Countdown to New Year's

Driving in South Dakota in the winter is always a gamble.

Lisa thought about that as she walked across the apartment parking lot to her garage. She planned to beat the grocery crowd by getting to the store before 8:30 in the morning.

On that morning the apartment parking lot was free from ice. Grains of sand dotted the main entry steps and the lot itself. But whatever snow and ice the sand had been intended to eliminate was gone. The pavement was dry.

Lisa’s hometown had already suffered through a couple of December snowstorms but now all traces of snow and ice were gone. December 30 offered spring-like temperatures … at least, in Midwestern terms. 36 degrees. 40 degrees. Snow-melting temperatures.

Lisa left her muffler, mittens, and snow boots behind. She strode to the garage with a sure step instead of her wintertime penguin shuffle. The penguin shuffle … a maneuver she had learned from her mother, designed to avoid falls on icy sidewalks and parking lots. The shuffle meant short steps and a side-to-side sway with arms slightly outstretched.

As she drove up Minnesota Avenue, one of her town’s main thoroughfares, Lisa thought about the irony of the day. At the moment the pavement was dry, the sun was shining. Who could be a pessimist on a day like this?

Actually, Lisa was able to be pessimistic on a day like this. She could not shake the ominous weather forecast.

Local television channels had warned of an impending winter storm. Rain first, then sleet, then snow. On-air weather forecasters solemnly warned of icy conditions and from four to 12 inches of snow. Or not.

Weather in South Dakota is up to … well, the weather. Storms that have been forecast may or may not materialize.

Lisa had decided not to gamble and headed out for an early morning shopping trip … packaged meals, wine, eggs, milk, and Cheetos.

Driving to the store in light morning traffic, Lisa continued her philosophical ruminations. “At this moment, the sky is clear. But a cloud hangs on the horizon. Soon we may be in a winter crisis, no-travel mode. Just like my life.”

Heavy thoughts for a simple shopping trip. But at her age Lisa had seen it all. Happy marriage, divorce. Adoption of child, death of child. Promising career, downsizing. New relationship, end of relationship. Her view of life had skewed toward the negative.

On her drive to the grocery store, Lisa saw parallels between South Dakota weather and life. A promising, dry, sunny street with an unpleasant weather forecast looming overhead. Good times in life always shadowed by possibilities of sadness and sorrow.

Lisa dropped her introspective mood once she got into the grocery store. She ambled up and down the aisles, dropping easy meal solutions and junk food into her cart. She steered to the liquor section to buy enough white wine to last four days. Workers in that section were hauling boxes and stocking shelves.

“Busy day?” she commented to one young worker. “Oh, yeah,” he answered. “Between the storm and New Year’s Eve, we have a lot to do!”

“Good luck!” she said, steering her cart through cartons toward the checkout lanes.

At her time of day, Lisa found few people in line. She positioned the little separator bar between her groceries and the selections of the woman ahead of her. While she waited, she studied the checkout selection of magazines … mostly speculations about England’s royal family—rifts, pregnancies, divorces, scandals. No need to purchase.

The young lady at the checkout was still perky having been on duty for only 45 minutes. She would be surly and dragging later in the day.

Lisa stacked her groceries on the conveyor belt and moved to the electronic payment reader.

“Big plans for New Year’s?” asked the clerk while she scanned frozen meals and pre-cut apple slices.

“No,” said Lisa. “Hoping to stay safe and warm.”

Lisa made three trips hauling grocery sacks from her detached garage to her second-floor apartment. But, once inside, she felt safe and satisfied. While she was stacking the last can of chicken noodle soup on her cupboard shelf, the phone rang.

Dina, she saw in the electronic ID.

“Hi!” she answered, hoping to sound bright and untroubled.

“Hey!” said Dina. “Do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“Not yet,” answered Lisa, hoping not to be asked to bring an appetizer or dessert or dip.

“We are meeting at the Alpine,” Dina said. “About 8:30 or 9:00 so we can get a booth. They have half-price drinks, New Year’s favors, and karaoke! I am calling all of our friends!”

Dina was such a happy extrovert. Dina was the warm, sunny December day. Lisa was the blizzard on the horizon.

“I will be there,” she said. “Depending on the weather.”

“Oh, sure,” Dina said. “We’ll keep an eye on the forecast.”

Lisa was sure that Dina would not, would never, check the forecast. When the sun was shining in Dina’s world, there were no clouds on the horizon. Lisa longed to be more like Dina, but genetics and upbringing meant that Lisa would always see the world in a negative, trouble-brewing light.

December 31 dawned gray and cloudy but without rain, snow, or sleet. Lisa checked the hourly weather forecast hoping to be with her friends but doubting that fate would bestow that favor.

By 7:00 no snow was falling. The wind was not blowing. Lisa showered, dressed, and headed for the Alpine Lodge, a local bar designed to look like a ski lodge minus the fireplace and outdoor hot tub.

Eight women squeezed into a booth designed for six. They had been friends for 30 years or more, supporting each other through family crises, career changes, and health scares. Wedged against the wall with a cheeseburger and hot buttered rum at her place, Lisa was ready to shed her sense of doom.

A three-piece band played on a makeshift stage in the corner with the spokesman making jokes and announcing songs.

Sure, thought Lisa, as she listened and sipped the warm and cheerful rum. Sure, her life and her home state always had that cloud of disaster on the horizon, but this would be a new year. This would be the year when all would be well. This would be the year she flourished. This would be her year to shine.

This would be the year to beat weather forecasts and unhappy outcomes.

As she settled into something akin to optimism, a group of young people crowded through the entrance, brushing snow from their coats and stamping it from their shoes.

“Oh, boy!” one of them shouted to no one in particular. “It’s coming down now!”

Chuckling at the intrusion, the man at the mic said, “And here comes the new year! Everybody ready? Ten … nine … eight …”