The forecast has temperatures in the low 60s on Sunday, New Year’s Day, here in Waynesboro.
The wife and I are thinking we’ll be grilling burgers and hot dogs, just because.
You know, because the wind chills were below zero a few days ago.
Also because: another New Year’s, back in the ‘aughts, we grilled out burgers and hot dogs on an unusually warm New Year’s Day.
Back then, we lived in a trailer park just north of Waynesboro.
You know, back when we were still trying to get up and running with this Augusta Free Press thing.
Now we live in the country club neighborhood.
Literally just up the street, there’s a golf course.
We used to live on Rock Mountain Lane in Crimora.
This was back when AFP was in its infancy.
The views of the Blue Ridge were amazing.
Across the road from our $12,000 trailer home was a farm with donkeys and goats.
Our next-door neighbors were artists and a truck driver.
All great folks.
I used to bike back to the foot of the mountain range, and it got me in great shape.
Those were times that would humble anyone.
Not many people believed that what we were trying to do would work.
One guy, in particular, the editor of one of the local papers, put in print a prediction of our inevitable demise.
We’re still here. And that guy is long gone, now editing a dying print paper in a dying community in the middle of effing nowhere.
Forgive me for reveling in his fate, and ours.
Because we worked hard to get to where we are, wherever that is.
We were also fortunate, because being fortunate is the key to anyone’s success.
2022 was a banner year for us, and we know how lucky we are.
Anyone who is in a good place in life reading this should realize how lucky you are.
No doubt you’ve worked hard, but there but for the grace of god go all of us, right?
Count your blessings.
As we are.
And will be, as we grill burgers and hot dogs this New Year’s.
I don’t know that they will taste any better than they did back on Rock Mountain Lane…