by Phil Goldstein | North Forty News
I read somewhere that the most often made, then unmade New Year’s resolution is to improve one’s fitness. If you frequent a gym religiously but bemoan the excessively crowded conditions in January, you know what I mean: Promises by the masses for body improvement nirvana, reverting sheepishly only a month later to couch potato and potato chip status.
I also make an annual resolution, namely that I’ll suffer fools even less gladly than in the prior year. And unlike the would-be gym rats, I’ve kept my pledge because it’s served me well for subject matter in the many satirical columns about life’s frustrations and frustraters that I’ve written here in NFN over the last five years.
Knowing I was drafting this column, my wife Amy sarcastically noted that New Year’s resolutions were essentially promises to address one’s shortcomings. And since she presumed that I had no intention of fulfilling many of these ‘promises’, maybe I should just write a column about my many faults and save the insincerity.
Nevertheless, I’m not afraid to try and fail, so here are my other resolutions for the next 12 months. Time will tell if I succeed… or also settle for couch and chips.
I resolve never to wear sandals. I’m pretty sure Steve McQueen—a man’s man if there ever was one—never did.
I’ll absolutely never believe a $10 million-salaried college football coach who says, “I’m just in it for the kids.”
I resolve to be more careful about patronization, a common definition of which is ‘treat in a way that is apparently kind or helpful but that betrays a feeling of superiority.’ With that in mind, I’ll no longer suggest to anyone the reasons not to use a commissioned investment broker.
I fully intend to answer only, “Whatever you think, dear,” to all domestic inquiries.
I resolve not to buy an electric car until they’re no longer powered by fossil fuels and I can fill their ‘tank’ in no more than the five minutes it takes me now to fill my car’s tank at the gas station.
After two pickleball injury surgeries in 14 months and now facing another, I’m quitting the sport after nine years. Really. Maybe. We’ll see.
After bagging 14 of them, I’ve resolved not to tackle any more Colorado 14’ers. No injuries driving this decision… yet.
I resolve to remain the only person I know who’s not wearing an Apple watch. I mean, somebody’s got to remember how to set and wind a traditional timepiece, right?
I’m not by nature a procrastinator, but I resolve to find something around the house that needs doing… and put off doing it.
I resolve to make greater use of reverse psychology decision making. I found this especially helpful during the recent election time when I was uncertain how to vote on some issues. Fortunately, I knew people whose opinion I could ask, then I voted the opposite way, confident that I got it right.
Despite my 20-something drum instructor’s suggestion that I broaden my musical horizons beyond rock and country, I’ve informed the band I play in that I’ll never, ever play rap or hip hop. As the late Tom Petty said, “Rap is short for crap.”
And speaking of music, I’m more resolved than ever to continue sending my annual letter to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame asking why the late, great Meat Loaf hasn’t been inducted yet.
Happy New Year, be well, and please support North Forty News.
Phil Goldstein is in his fifth year writing Tales from Timnath for North Forty News. Phil is a 14-year Timnath resident who is finally using his West Virginia University journalism degree after getting sidetracked 52 years ago. The views expressed herein are Phil’s only. Contact him with comments on the column at [email protected].