Ashes and Soot
No one is going to cast back fondly on 2021. It was a year, like 1933 or 1942, to survive, not relish. Forget about sugar plums dancing in our heads—to raid Moore’s famous poem, 2021 was, like Santa Claus’s clothes, “all tarnished with ashes and soot.”
We are resilient, however, and winter holidays were so often celebrated to recognize the fellowship of friends and family that allow us to survive hard times. Bad years come, inevitably, but we endure with a little help from our friends. I hope you can take joy in those connections.
I had the wonderful opportunity to travel and experience my own connections this year with so many of you. After 18 months of isolation, the simple act of sharing a beer became a precious thing. Thanks so much to everyone who reached out and joined me—I certainly felt those connections myself.
With Omicron bearing down on us, it feels like we’ll never exit this purgatory, but things change. Let’s hope 2022 brings a more lasting and less lethal return to normal, and a lot more sharing of that fellowship. Happy holidays, everyone!