{"id":172556,"date":"2026-01-01T09:00:15","date_gmt":"2026-01-01T14:00:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=172556"},"modified":"2026-01-07T17:22:21","modified_gmt":"2026-01-07T22:22:21","slug":"happy-new-year","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2026\/01\/01\/happy-new-year\/","title":{"rendered":"Happy New Year"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"

Fireworks in Eberhardzell, 2018. Photograph by Andreas Weith. Licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0, Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.<\/a><\/p><\/div>\n

When I met Richard, he said, \u201cI’m not a Cartesian. I feel no division between my body and my mind. I don’t even think my mind is confined to my brain. I think it’s everywhere in my body and even outside me.\u201d I said, \u201cMe too.\u201d That was nineteen years ago. He said, \u201cThe right hand can\u2019t give the left hand a gift.\u201d I thought it could, although maybe you would need to be an octopus. He said, \u201cYou can\u2019t jump into the same river once.\u201d That was obvious.<\/p>\n

On New Year\u2019s Eve, you look backward and forward at the same time. Time stops, and you are in the now. You make resolutions you can\u2019t keep\u2014on purpose. You promise to be reborn, but you like your funk. And it\u2019s so much easier to let yourself down than to let down another person. Richard says, \u201cEvery promise invites a change of heart,\u201d and when he says this I feel a wave of love for him rise up, or a wave of love for the human mind and the pleasure it takes in maintaining its shape.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m making Richard sound like the wooden fortune teller in the penny arcade, where you slip a coin into a slot and she spits out a fortune-cookie saying. This is a compliment to Richard. The fortune teller knew a thing or two. Every promise of course invites a change of heart. Last year, when we got married, we promised nothing.<\/p>\n

The thing you learn when you ski is you have to point your skis down the mountain. This is terrifying and true. On New Year\u2019s Eve, gravity is suspended, and you fall upward. Actually, you always fall upward. That\u2019s why you can float. When you ski, you\u00a0hear a click like a gear shifting into place, and you don\u2019t need to understand. All you have to do is aim the skis down. You have to unweight the downhill ski. There has to be a downhill ski, even if the skis appear to be parallel. One ski at a time, you shift your weight and edge slightly, but you have to flatten the skis for a moment before edging. You have to let the mountain take you to feel falling is flying.<\/p>\n

Often I think about Valentina Tereshkova, who on June 16, 1963, became the first woman to travel in space. The mission lasted nearly three days. She wasn\u2019t educated, but she was strong, and she liked jumping out of planes. We\u2019re not supposed to want to fall, but she found it thrilling not being attached to anything.<\/p>\n

I once visited the home of a famous novelist, who was the friend of a friend. I was thirty. My friend and the famous novelist were older. The famous novelist was making chicken soup when we arrived. She was a shy and contained sort of person. She thought she could make chicken soup with water and a chicken. I should have kept my mouth shut. The famous novelist asked how long to boil the chicken. My friend knew she didn\u2019t really want to know. I said, \u201cYou need stock. You can\u2019t make soup with water and vegetables and a chicken. At the very least, you need bullion and herbs.\u201d The famous novelist stared back at me and didn’t say anything. I\u2019m glad I didn\u2019t mention the thing about roasting the bones. My friend was sorry she had brought me. Our friendship was falling apart, anyway. I want to tell you I never again offered cooking advice that wasn’t welcome, but I can’t tell you that. You know how resolutions work. I think about this story often. I know you\u2019re not surprised.<\/p>\n

When, at eight, I learned to do a back dive, I thought I could learn to do anything. It doesn\u2019t matter I was wrong. On New Year\u2019s Eve, when the clock disappears, you remember when you learned to float. It was the first sip of a margarita. It was that amusement park ride, where you spun around so fast you lost the outline of yourself. A chalk outline that could easily be erased.\u00a0We are desperately hoping for change. We want to believe the recent past never happened, even though it is still happening.\u00a0Do you remember the breakfast trays left outside the door in the little hotels in Paris where you stayed? What exactly is the float? The suspension of comparisons.<\/p>\n

From time to time, the idea of moving to England comes up. Richard lived there until he was thirty-four. When he left, he knew it was the wrong body for his accent. If the place you are in is not a place where you can stay, you will become any age and small enough to fit in a paper boat and sail away.<\/p>\n

When we consider moving, I suggest Edinburgh, because neither of us has ever lived there and in a TV series set there it looks cool. He says, \u201cIn the winter, Edinburgh will be cold and dark. I think we should go to Dorset.\u201d<\/p>\n

One summer we visited Dorset. We were hiking above a giant cliff, and Richard had a low blood sugar. While he was recovering, we stretched out in the grass and made a little tent with our umbrellas. At the beaches in Dorset, everyone was finding fossils. We found nothing. It was as if we were cursed. I said about Dorset, \u201cWe can always look for fossils again.\u201d Richard said, \u201cIt\u2019s better to find a fossil than become a fossil.\u201d No argument there.<\/p>\n

I like the smell of perfume on a neck. How do birds know there are seeds in a frozen feeder? Last year, I spoke on the phone with my former shrink. I had been reading my notebooks from the seventies and eighties, and I felt a surge of love for her rise up. I told her she had helped me. I think she knew that. Knowing me was a job for her, and she had been paid to stick it out with me. I wish I\u2019d been able to pay other people I\u2019d known at the time.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

A few weeks ago, Richard\u2019s brother died. He had been ill, but the death was swift, and Richard couldn\u2019t get to England in time. A week later, on the day of the cremation, Richard flew into a rage that was easier to feel than grief. Grief for the end of another pint in a pub, another memory of riding donkeys on a freezing beach in Blackpool.<\/p>\n

In a recent piece Richard wrote called \u201cPianos<\/a>,\u201d he recalls a Christmas morning when he was twelve and Roy was fifteen, and his dad gave them both record albums. Roy was given\u00a0Moon Beams<\/em>\u00a0by Bill Evans. The family was visiting Richard\u2019s granddad\u2019s pub in Lancashire, a place where old pianos from pubs were being stored. Richard was stopped in his tracks by the music. He writes,<\/p>\n

I find it hard to say how it affected me. I know I forgot about the Beatles, forgot about the jazz version of\u00a0My Fair Lady<\/em>\u00a0I\u2019d been given. I was simply amazed by what Bill Evans was doing with chords, or undoing, or redoing with them. For years later, I would have dreams of being in that giant space with eleven pianos. In the dreams, I play a run down the keys like Bill Evans, but my fingers stiffen, and I can\u2019t complete it, although it\u2019s in my head if not my hands. The other day, at my brother\u2019s memorial, the guests entered to a track from Moon Beams<\/em>. It was the first track on the album with the title \u201cRe: Person I Knew.\u201d In 1990, I bought an electric piano I have lugged around ever since. It\u2019s upstairs now, and I am promising myself, again, to learn how to play it.<\/p>\n

Guess what? He\u2019s doing it. He\u2019s up and down the stairs practicing the first bars of \u201cOde to Joy\u201d and picking out \u201cFr\u00e8re Jacques.\u201d It turns out you can resolve to change your life, even though resolutions are a type of magical thinking. Like a promise or a vow\u2014the idea that if I say it, it shall be done. Why is this possible sometimes? Richard doesn\u2019t want to die before living as much as he can. Also, learning to play the piano is a good workout for his brain.<\/p>\n

Most of the things that have happened in my life I didn\u2019t plan. \u201cText me when you get there,\u201d everyone says. I love this quote from an interview Sarah Bernhardt gave shortly before her death in 1923, at age seventy-eight. I read it one day on Facebook, posted by Charles Busch: “Life is short, even for those of us who live a long time, and we must live for the few who know and appreciate us, who judge and absolve us, and for whom we have the same affection and indulgence. We ought to hate very rarely, as it is too fatiguing, remain indifferent a great deal, forgive often, and never forget.\u201d\u00a0If I could, I would text everyone I have ever known: \u201cWe made it home.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laurie Stone is the author of six books, most recently<\/em> Streaming Now: Postcards from the Thing That Is Happening, which was long-listed for the PEN America Diamonstein-Spielvogel Award for the Art of the Essay. She writes frequently for<\/em> The Paris Review online<\/em>,<\/em> and her Substack is<\/em> Everything Is Personal<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cOn New Year\u2019s Eve, you look backward and forward at the same time. Time stops, and you are in the now. You make resolutions you can\u2019t keep\u2014on purpose.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2320,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4393],"tags":[67827],"class_list":["post-172556","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-first-person","tag-featured"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nHappy New Year by Laurie Stone<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"January 1, 2026 \u2013 \u201cOn New Year\u2019s Eve, you look backward and forward at the same time. Time stops, and you are in the now. 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