Living Wright: New Year's Eve rituals an early start on making 2013 great
BY JASON ASHLEY WRIGHT World Scene Writer
Thursday, December 27, 2012
12/27/12 at 5:15 AM
Go to Jason Ashley Wright's BlogOriginal Print Headline: Lucky '13
Twenty-twelve, if you'll please pardon how I put it, sucked.
So I'm quite excited for the new year - "Lucky '13," as I've been dubbing it since late summer.
Not that I'm overly superstitious, save for some voodoo dolls I have under my bed (kidding - they're not so much "voodoo" as "sock puppets with people's names scrawled on the back").
But I'm wondering if '12 tanked because I didn't fill up on lucky food last New Year's Day: black-eyed peas for luck, cabbage or collard greens for money, and corn bread because, I don't know, it just tastes good with the other stuff. And butter - butter because you can't have corn bread without it. Amen.
Such a menu was one of the few constants in my life when it came to New Year's celebrations, as my Dec. 31 activities frequently vary.
Like New Year's Eve 1999, when I was told to go to a local church to meet midnight - and, perhaps, my maker, in case the Y2K bug caused planes to fall out of the sky or computers to transform into attack robots and slaughter us all. It was a beautiful service, and I was rather relieved midnight came and went without any carnage. But I was also a bit miffed I missed out on some fun parties because of global paranoia.
Whatever - I made up for it the following New Year's Eve, when I wore leather pants and a big blue faux fur coat out and about with my former roommate and some mutual friends. I've never sweat that much on a winter night in my life.
Following years were wonderfully less raucous, such as game nights at my friend Woosley's apartment. In fact, those New Year's Eves were probably my all-time favorites - co-workers and friends, and whomever we were dating at the time, laughing hysterically over games like Scattergories and Taboo.
A few childhood New Year's Eves involved fireworks. On one tragic occasion, it involved fireworks and a large ant hill. I was bit repeatedly - hello, karma.
As a kid, New Year's Day always meant the Tournament of Roses Parade on TV, followed by football, with Dad gently correcting me whenever I'd refer to the University of Nebraska as the Cornshuckers.
This year, no football, probably no Taboo, and I should probably toss the two and a half sticks of butter left in my fridge so I won't be tempted to make any corn bread - a couple thousand fewer calories to lose starting Jan. 2.
But you better believe I'm going to have my black-eyed peas and cabbage to prevent a repeat of 2012. Actually, in case they all work in conjunction with one another, I better go ahead and make the corn bread with just a pat or three of butter. I'll toss the sock puppets instead.
Black-eyed peas mean good luck. Tulsa World file