I Grew Up Brown County

Celebrating the New Year.

We watch I Love Lucy reruns from 10pm to midnight, sitting on Nana’s lap in the recliner. My brother on one side, me on the other. Papaw went to sleep ages ago. Mom and Dad are out celebrating at a party for grownups. All of the lights are off and it’s cozy and I barely make it until midnight. I am snuggled up in bed by 12:03 am.

An Elvis Presley marathon started at noon and lasts through the New Year. I watch Elvis sing in a convertible, wear leis and play a ukulele, blush awkwardly as a shy country boy asking out the prettiest girl in town. I stay up well past midnight. Everyone is in bed. I vow then and there to watch every single Elvis movie ever. A resolution, I guess.

Mom makes cheese and veggie trays. We fondue and dip bread and crackers in the chocolate. We string “Happy New Year!” banners across the living room and turn up Dick Clark as loud as we dare. Whistles, blowers, and streamers. Shiny gold and silver top hats are swapped and traded with the  shimmery paper tiaras that say “1999” or “2003.” Everyone gathers around the tv when we get within a few minutes of the new year. The ball finally starts to drop in Times Square and everyone is kissing and streamers are going everywhere. We blow our whistles and toot our horns and fight for the bathroom because all of the cheese and chocolate is leaving us in quite a bind.

The interesting thing about ringing in the New Year with the television set is watching them clean up afterwards. They show Times Square at 12:33am and it is barren. Trash is everywhere. Some lonely street sweeper is out there with a broom and a bag, cleaning up everyone’s mess. I hope he gets a big bonus on this night each year.

Finally old enough to go out for New Year’s! Four of us head out in the big, huge, gigantic city of Indianapolis. We pay $20 just to get in. I am simultaneously appalled and intrigued. We toast our “free” champagne at midnight. It is terrible. We see a man physically restraining and nearly abusing his girlfriend on the dance floor. Someone grabs my butt. We are done here.

My friend is hosting a New Year’s party in his penthouse overlooking The Circle in downtown Indianapolis. I ride the elevator all the way up. There are people everywhere. We pop bottles of champagne on the balcony and toast at midnight. My love is here. Champagne and a kiss at midnight? This is what I’ve waited for my whole life. It is just as magical as I ever expected.

My family keeps having chocolate and cheese and crackers. They call me when the ball drops. They post pictures of everyone wearing those silly, shiny hats and blowing the blowers. Nana and Papaw look exhausted by 10:30pm. Kids are passing out on the couch in the background.

I miss that.