We rang in the new year. 2025 is upon us whether we want it or not. Out with the old and in with the new is an oft-heard statement, meaning a myriad of things. I guess the context matters.
The other day, I realized that the country of the United States of America is only 248 and one-half years old. Two and a half centuries seems a long time. Then I did a little mathmaticking—I guess I’ve always been somewhat nerdy. Apparently, I have lived 21.4% of that time.
That might have freaked me out a bit to be honest. I remember when I was five years old, and the country had turned a massive 200 years old. An ancient number. However, I am certain someone alive during those days had a birthday when the country was only 100 years old. My own paternal grandfather came into this world when the USA was only 121 years old.
What appears old may not be that old in the great scheme of things. I have two grandchildren and one cooking. I do not feel old in my fifties. Other than the slower recovery time after physical exertion. If I have already lived almost a quarter of the time the country has existed as an entity in the world, then Einstein was right. Time is relative to the observer.
I am 26 years older than my oldest child. My father was 26 years old when I came screaming into the world. What had he seen I had not? What had he experienced I thought ancient?
Disneyland opened in 1955. Did he want his parents to drive from Kentucky to Anaheim, California? Thirteen years after it opened, he would meet my mother there. He saw the launch of Sputnik. He saw Neil Armstrong take the first human step on the moon. He saw Elvis Presley on the Ed Sullivan Show. Maybe he heard the first broadcast announcing the assassination of President Kennedy. All these things were unimaginably long ago for me when I was a child. My father witnessed them all.
What have I seen that my daughter believes ancient history? I remember a black-and-white television talking about the Fall of Saigon. I wanted an Atari 2600 but never got one. I remember the boycott of the 1980 Summer Olympics. I watched the Miracle on Ice when the US hockey team defeated the Soviet Union in the 1980 Winter Olympics. I saw the footage of the assassination attempt on President Ronald Reagan. In freshman science class, my classmates and I all watched in horror as the space shuttle Challenger exploded. And I saw the fall of the Berlin Wall and the dissolution of the mighty Soviet Union. By the time any of these events happened in my life, I had yet to meet my wife, my daughter’s mother.
Each year passes by faster and faster. It took forever for my sixth birthday to roll around when I was five and three-quarters. When I turned 53, the only reason I remembered turning 52 was because I watched Chelsea play Arsenal at Stamford Bridge in London, England for my birthday present. Time is relative to the observer. A year feels like an eternity to a five-year-old when one 365-day period is 20% of their life already lived. Not so much to me when it is only 2%.
The new year should not be viewed as something to replace the old, but a time to continue moving on, to continue growing. Years build as do we. They are the foundation of our future, not something to be erased, neglected, or forgotten. It may not seem as impactful as 20%, but each 2% adds up…ofttimes too quickly.
Take care and happy reading.
