According to my calendar, the last week of the year begins on Christmas Day, the seventh-to-last day of the year.
Our Christmas Day has evolved into a very quiet one, having celebrated the prior afternoon and evening with our brood. At some point on the 25th, the TV comes on. We have been one of those tag-alongs on Netflix, utilizing our youngest son’s subscription. Netflix has been working to crack down on such miscreants as us and they finally pulled our particular plug. Merry Christmas, indeed.
No big deal; it had been expected at some point.
The next morning, I got another not-altogether-unexpected technology-related Christmas present. My desktop at the office would not fire up.
This particular computer has always had a start-up problem. Even when first purchased, it just took longer than normal to boot up, open the Mail program and get started. Always seemed to need a bit more caffeine in the mornings. It had some other quirks that other Macs in the office did not, and as it aged — it’s about 12 or 13 years old I think, pretty ancient for a computer — those seemed to become more pronounced. Not unlike me, I guess. But I digress.
It had begun to act up more than normal as December progressed so I did back up some things. But not enough. After repeated attempts of resuscitation in consultation with this computer’s primary care physician, it was officially pronounced dead at 3:16 p.m., Dec. 26, 2024. Right in the middle of one of the remaining projects I’ve held onto in my version of retirement.
Not that I panicked, but the last week of the year was not spent in any degree of reflection. I did manage to pump out my portion of the annual top stories effort; the “property tax saga” came in sixth. The rest of the time was reconstructing and getting back to where I was on my project. Way too much like real work.
Time is traditionally spent during that inbetweenholidays week on normal year-end issues — like Webster’s “word of the year” and Lake Superior State University’s annual “Banished Words List.” I had been ruminating, with the help of a friend, on some sort of a more localized word-of-the-year or words we’d like to banish. He suggested the Wells County word-of-the-year might be “taxes.” Fair enough. His suggestion of words to be banned was “digress.” Probably also fair enough. He does have a sense of humor.
Webster’s word-of-the-year, by the way, is “authentic,” and topping the banished list was “hack.” It is no coincidence they are both tech-related. This thing called artificial intelligence makes “authentic” a pretty important issue. And we all fear this four-letter word that constantly threatens to upend our computers and thus, our lives.
I was filling up my gas tank Thursday morning when a friend pulled up nearby. My usual response to his greeting — “How ya doin’?” — is “Wouldn’t dare complain.” I genuinely feel that on balance, I have absolutely nothing to complain about. But I still do of course. Often in this Saturday space, as I have been reminded. But if you would have asked me how I am doing during that in-between week, I probably would have complained.
But I shouldn’t have. Balance.
That Christmas Eve gathering with our family was the first one with full attendance since 2019. The sniffles or a fever or the weather had kept someone away the last three years. It was so wonderful to look down our elongated dinner table and see the 16 most important people in my life in one place at one time.
One week later, at the same table, the “Ball State Gang” as we call ourselves, was together for our 52nd consecutive New Years gathering. We got through the Covid years without breaking that streak.
There really is no puzzle here. Technology creates much of our angst, but authentic friends and family easily overcome the hacks and crashes of life. The best way to end a year.
miller@news-banner.com
