Is it wrong to be hopeful?

Not gonna lie, but I like years that end in even numbers

On New Year’s Eve, I watched Paul Anka sing an updated version of “My Way” (which became “Our Way”) and felt a little bit moved.

For one, 82-year old PAUL ANKA IS STILL ALIVE and for two, his new lyrics included “our way” and “you matter.” It was, and I mean this in the best sense of the word, a “woke” song from an entertainment icon.

It put a nice spin to the evening, which earlier had included family, and baked stuffed shrimp — two of my favorite things.

I always feel a little goofy getting hopeful about a new year, but then, I wake up every morning thinking something awesome is going to happen, and imagine my surprise when I tuck myself in that night and it didn’t. I don’t buy lottery tickets because I assume I will win and will not be able to handle my fortune, and if you think I’m just a cock-eyed optimist, I once went to an Amazing Kreskin show and HE SINGLED ME OUT FROM THE STAGE. Audience members were asked to write answers to questions the performer asked from the stage, and then turn in those papers and Mr. Kreskin would intuit what they’d written and why. He picked my little paper and had me stand and I became, for about three minutes and from way in the back, a part of his act.

Was it a trick? Who cares? I felt special.

I also won a drawing at the Atlas family picnic in 1965. The prize was a bowling bag. A year later, I won a drawing that netted me a pink stuffed dog, whom I named Dog-Dog and kept forever. In fact, if I went hunting, I could probably find Dog-Dog, looking worse for the wear but then, so do I. In the interim, I’ve won more drawings than you can count, so excuse me if I think this year will be better, stronger, cleaner, and more honest than the last one. We could use a win and a little bit of hope never hurt any one — provided we’re following that hope up with some action.

Onward. Into the breach.