Retrospective on the Year Ahead
Atlanta, GA
January 1, 2022
We awoke today to another in a series of damp, unseasonably warm mornings. A layer of fog hugs the ground, like mist engulfing Baskerville Hall.
That’s appropriate. The path ahead is rarely clear. But on this New Year’s Day, where we’ve been seems as enigmatic as what’s to come.
For now, we’re in a holding pattern…waiting for the fog to lift, and the stupor to subside. During the week between Christmas and the New Year, dates and days run together. Time rarely matters, and seems to stand still.
We have few obligations, time to rest, and moments to reflect. There’s also opportunity to look ahead.
Mark Twain said it’s difficult to make predictions…especially about the future. That makes sense. After all, there are an infinite number of potential futures, but only one actual one. So the chances of us picking the right one are pretty slim.
Guessing the future is a fool’s errand…which is to say a human one, in which everyone engages. So instead, let’s try to predict the past. Let’s leap forward so we can look back.
On the first day of January next year, what will we think of what we accomplished, suffered, endured, and enjoyed during this one?
Let’s jump ahead and find out, starting with external events, and working our way toward what was under our control…
The financial world pushed me out on a limb. As the year began, US stock markets had floated to unprecedented heights on an endless flood of fake money. On that basis, I swam upstream of consensus, and assumed they must either sink, rise further, or tread water. And I was spot on.
I also assumed the money printing would persist, debt would continue to mount, government boondoggles would perpetuate, prices would increase, and that the mid-term elections a couple months ago would do nothing to stop any of it.
Again…clairvoyant.
Culturally and socially, things were trickier. “Culture”, as Selma Lagerlof said, “is all that is left when you’ve forgotten all you set out to learn.” But what if everything is forgotten, nothing is learned, and even less is left?
From the start of this century (with a brief re-suture right after 9/11), the seams of American society slowly severed. But after 2019, when we thought we’d reached peak nuttiness, we realized we were only in the foothills. During the first two years of this decade, medical tyranny, ”woke” weirdness, urban destruction, and memory-holed heroes brought on the altitude sickness.
For twenty-two months, the world was on edge. Opposing perspectives divided families and ended friendships. Eggshells were strewn across the landscape like land mines along the western front. Messages went unanswered, topics were avoided, and conversations dodged.
Like living among divided factions during the American Revolution, we tip-toed thru or around the uncertainty of who was a loyalist, and who a patriot.
But last year we realized that those who dismissed us because of our opinions were unworthy of hearing them. When our confidence waned or our perspectives drew grief, we recalled Stephen Hawkings’s adage that smart people seem like crazy people to dumb people. And then we wondered which we were.
After the acrimony and angst of the preceding couple years, we learned in 2022 who our real friends were, and treasured the recognition (or the reminder). Our social circle’s circumference may have shrunk, but its center grew.
Professionally, things also needed to change. I needed a new line of work, or at least a new place to do it. I’d been doing similar things for twenty-five years. It was time for something different, even if I didn’t know what it was.
Only by lifting myself from the rut could I explore terrain beyond the trench. So last year, I climbed out.
I’ve always enjoyed economics, and still do. Because the minutiae of customer deals, contracts, and non-stop negotiations bored me, I looked for other ways to apply my interest.
I bolstered my writing, continued selling options, explored contractor opportunities, and delved into real estate. For years we’ve considered a second property in a quiet place with amenities we like. Last year, we finally found one, and I am writing from it today. Among my more overdue accomplishments was finally learning the rudiments of shooting a gun, growing our own food, and becoming handy around the house.
Nothing reminds us how quickly sand drops thru the hourglass like reflecting on our children. Among the most rewarding aspects of the year just ended, is how much of it I spent with mine.
Our 18 year-old son is one semester from starting college, and our 21 year-old is two semesters from finishing. He’s considering career opportunities and graduate options, which he needs to narrow in the coming months.
We reminded ourselves a couple years ago how few days we have. We tried to use the last 365 of them to seek what mattered, and shed what didn’t. Time, people, and experiences took priority. And we are happier for it.
When 2022 started, I was cautiously pessimistic. As it ends, I realize the caution was warranted, but the pessimism was misplaced.
That’s probably true of most things.
JD