2010. How many colossal failures and disappointments does it take for a person to come to the end of cynicism and begin to hope and believe again? How many teeny tiny glimpses of light does it take to start to believe that this life isn’t just a huge waste of time? Can one swift act of paying it forward , a man in a grocery store covering the bill of an elderly couple, an old man bringing two carts to the front of the store, a little girl singing her guts out in adoration of her parent, can any of these be the impetus for a whole change of perspective and worldview, or even a change of luck and destiny? The last year was one of the worst on record for me. So many terrible, unmentionable things happened throughout 2010 that it made even 2009 look okay. Which is wasn’t. I started two weeks ago, looking back over the year for the good things, the things that made it worth living. I see flashes of kids in the back of the Tahoe, singing, pouting, hitting each other. Driving for miles and sitting on a stage in a casino. I see Halle bouncing off walls of a dark and cold cave, waiting for the perfect opportunity to spring from behind a stalagmite and terrify her sisters. I see ridiculous themed snowmen. I see the arms of my Avett friends and family wrapped around me, singing from our souls the words we know and love together. I see my family, rallied for one of the worst and dark times we have faced, but watch my youngest brother suddenly become a man. An uncle, a brother, a soldier. I am curious to hear from the years to come whether it was basic training with the navy or Emily’s wreck in 2010 that changed him most of all. I see wee morning hours leaning on the bar of the Whitebird, long closed, with my sweet sweet friend. I see miles and miles of sun soaked highway stretching out before my Tahoe, my arm flying in the wind out of my window, the mountains all around me, and the music feeding my soul. I see people fall in love. Grow to love more deeply, and realize the importance of the love they share. I see people smile in the face of my cynicism and run headlong into the unpredictable arms of affection and marriage. I see nets spread out underneath me like a blossoming flower just the minute that I lose my grip on the last thread of stability. One job ends, another catches me on my fall down. Insurmountable deficits in my bank account magically disappear and are replaced by a lazy float down the Deschutes river, tied to 4 floating and fighting girls, some are shivering and some are trying intently to pretend they have no association with the bobbing island of hot pink and bungy cords. I see beer of every glistening shade and color, frosting up big pint glasses and little tasters. New friends that are like old siblings, teasing and sharing and relentlessly egging each other on to bigger and better adventures. I see my dog, sleeping, always. But like a big wrinkly sun bear just waiting to be annoyed. For all of the terrible things that happened this year, I have only two regrets: as ridiculous as it sounds, they are that I didn’t go to Merlefest when I was supposed to and took a $400 loss on the ticket, and worse yet, an immeasurable loss on the experience; and that I didn’t go to Pickathon, again, an immense loss. But these regrets steel my resolve to make sure that the things that make the year glow in my memory are priorities. That they take precedence over looking good in someone’s eyes, or being “financially prudent” in a world that has no remedy for the financial woes I face. Money comes and goes, but experiences stay with us and make us the rich and interesting people that we are. If I teach my girls anything, I hope they learn this. Would we be any worse off now financially if I had gone to the shows I missed, on the trips I cancelled? Heck no. We’d still be scraping by. I have made countless poor decisions in recent years. I will continue to do so. To the person who doesn’t: god bless your simple and regretless life. I don’t really envy you. I plan to go ahead into 2011 expecting love. Expecting the joy that staying one step ahead of survival brings. Expecting good things. Sure the bad things will come and beat me down, just like in 2009 and 2010, but the man in the grocery store has reminded me that it doesn’t matter. For all the bad, there is some good still. I hope that when I find myself with $45 in my bank account I will gladly put it toward the bill of someone who simply can’t pay. Lord knows I have been that person many times, putting things back on the shelf from the cart, rationing drops of gas. Paying for milk with nickels and pennies. Which I stole from my 7 year old. I know desperation. Maybe desperation makes us better people. More empathetic. More sympathetic. I have wondered often how I can work so frigging hard and still be desperate. It seems so unfair. I blame the kids, or god, or my ex or my parents, but really, it’s life. Life is to blame for the injustice. Life is unfair. The beauty of life is that the injustice swings both ways. From time to time we get unfairly blessed. Where you were born, or to whom, or where in the birth order you lie; the opportunities presented to you and the courage you have to accept them: these are all numbers in the roulette wheel we call life. Having the wit and the tenacity to tag the right numbers is only part of the game. But it’s a big part. I intend to keep playing. At least for now.