Hello Downriver,
I didn’t expect this.
As I write, I’m sitting in a hospital room next to my loved one, literally watching a wall clock count down to the end of another year.
It’s not midnight for another hour and change, which gives me ample time to do some thinking beyond the typical look back at the year ending and forward to a year beginning.
So I find myself doing something usually found in a movie, a clichéd moment in the script that calls for a character’s life to flash before his eyes.
In my case, I’m periodically looking over to the hospital bed next to me, the blankets rising and falling quietly in the midst of a silent night outside the window.
And remembering how the two of us — and a handful of others — started some 47 year ago as friends and colleagues who worked in the news, sports and lifestyles departments at the old Mellus in Lincoln Park.
You may not remember them, but we always have; fortunately, some are still with us, but others have left us over the years.
Too many.
Jim Pegg, Curt Smith, Anita Crone, K. Michael Ransom, Pat Henegar, Al DuHadway, Lois Crawford, Jim O’Toole, Orrin Wright, Eric Gearns…
There are still a handful of us left from the “original team” all those years ago: Ann Knisely, Patti Stoll, Evelyn Cairns, Joan Mattson, Sue McMahon, Mavis McKinney — and me.
Since then, even more names were added to the list of friends and colleagues, but because I’m mentioning names, I run the obvious risk of leaving someone out; so please accept my sincere apologies.
I just don’t have the mousetrap memory — and the lint trap mind — I had 47 years ago.
Instead, that’s how memories work for me now: fleeting images, snippets of faces, muddled names — all fighting with each other to make sense.
In fact, I’ve spent the last hour trying to remember all these names.
And just wished my love a Happy New Year… mostly asleep in the hospital bed next to me.
Which puts things in sharp perspective for me — and for anyone who’s having a life challenge right now: how do you “celebrate” when things are pulling you in a different direction?
Well, you don’t.
You don’t celebrate, you ponder and you make small connections between what was, what is and what may be.
With an emphasis on “may.”
So instead of a toast, let me send you this simple New Year’s wish: May 2026 bring what you hope, not what you fear.
And may your powers give you the ability to face whatever trials life may hand you with kindness, compassion and grace.
To read ALL my essays, check out Substack.com and look for me at “Farrandipity.” It’s free (and please share with like-minded individuals — and even those who aren’t.) Craig Farrand is a former managing editor of The News-Herald who can be reached at craig.substack@gmail.com.
