Auld Lang Syne

The dim lights of a still decorated Christmas tree cast a subtle grow as my little family of three retreated from our positions on the couch to huddle in the middle of the living room to watch the waning moments of 2025 tick away.

The countdown paced through its final seconds, 5-4-3-2-1, before a sea of confetti filled the air in New York City while the Constellation Ball, illuminated in a beautiful array of Red-White-and-Blue to celebrate our nation’s 250th birthday, completed its expertly timed journey. The television announcers proclaimed, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” as Auld Lang Syne, the perennial anthem for New Years celebrations the world over, played in the background.

I kissed my wife, my forever New Years date (whom I met at a New Years party I was reluctant to attend in 2009), and we hugged as a family to celebrate the onset of 2026, but there’s something about that old Scottish melody that turns this gruff, cussin’, gun-slingin’, whiskey chuggin’ railroader into a sentimental mess, and those first few moments of the new year always feel more like a somber remembrance than a celebration of something new.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I love a good quote that helps place things into perspective; mostly because I recognize that there are people who are far cleverer than I am, and I embrace the collective knowledge and thinking that exists outside of my own head.

A great friend of mine sent me a quote the other day, and it said: “When we understand that each day isn’t one more day, but one less, we will start giving more value to the things that truly matter.”

The reality is that we’ve all experienced loss- A grandparent, a parent, a friend, a coworker, and with each loss we learn to live our lives in a new way as we establish a new normal without those people we’ve lost gracing the pages of our story any longer. Eventually, I think this guides us all towards the realization that everyone has an expiration date, and very few of us will ever know when our own story is coming to a close; nor do I believe we’d want to.

For me, as I’ve pored over the seemingly insurmountable piles of information my grandmother and mother have amassed surrounding my family’s genealogy, I began to wonder about my ancestors’ stories. Although I’ve been able to help add context to many of their Ancestry.com entries by virtue of military records, adding branch of service, rank, unit, or famous battles they’d participated in, I still can’t help but be curious. What were they like? What was important to them? What did they do for fun?

As we step into a new year, I don’t really think about it in terms of one more year- I think about it as one less year, and as we get older, the adage of “The days are long, but the years are short” begins to feel more and more real as the doldrums of day-to-day life, filled with anxiety and depression, tend to mute the beautiful moments that should grossly overshadow them.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m blessed to have a wonderful family, amazing friends, and a career that I’m passionate about, but after experiencing loss, and grief, I can’t help but feel terrified that my own story could come to a close long before I’m ready to be done writing it.

The sad reality is that many people will live their lives, only serving to leave their marks upon one another and their passing will see their stories fade into obscurity as people no longer speak their names, or share their stories. They’ll become just another name etched into stone, with two dates separated by a dash, and the best anyone can hope for is that they’ve made the most of that little dash.

I think British Comedian Jimmy Carr said it brilliantly, “Anxiety is worrying about the future, and depression is worrying about the past, so make sure at least a few times a day your head is where your feet are.”

For me, that’s my New Years Resolution- Not some overreaching New Year, New Me promise to lose a ton of weight, or be able to bench press 300 pounds (although both would be excellent goals), but just to keep my head where my feet are. To leave the past in the past and let the future come as it may. To strive, each day, to be slightly better than I was the day before, and to allow those beautiful moments to eclipse the mundane routines.

…because the days aren’t quite as long as I sometimes wish they were, but the years certainly are shorter than I remember, so let’s take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

Happy New Year, everybody, make sure to try to keep your head where your feet are.

Those Lazy Millennials & Zoomers!

I recently saw a post asking, “Is Gen-Z lazy for not wanting to work 40-hours a week?”

While I’m willing to bet that your first thoughts are either “Hell yes!” or “Ok, boomer…” I believe the answer is more complex, but I can empathize with both sides.

The fact of the matter is, as we came out of the COVID-19 pandemic, many people began to realize that we only have a finite number of days on this planet, and fewer and fewer people want to spend those days toiling away for the vast majority of employers that view them as expendable to begin with…

In my lifetime, I’ve been employee 039818, 16, 52, 161361 and 353, but ultimately nobody’s epitaph reads “dedicated employee,” they read things like “devoted father,” “caring mother,” or “beloved brother/sister,” so what’s the value in feeling prideful about working an excessive number of hours unless you’re doing something you absolutely love?

While I consider myself fortunate to have found a great work / life balance doing something I enjoy, I previously spent 12 years working for one of North America’s largest railroads, and although the money was absolutely fantastic ($160,000/yr for a job that requires only a high-school education), I got to hear about my daughter’s first steps, first words, and a myriad of other “firsts” through telephone conversations with my wife from a dingy hotel room. Those are missed memories that I’ll never get back, and for what? So I could buy a nice car? Have the newest cell phone? Go out to eat more than was necessary?

Thinking back further, I can still recall a younger version of myself that bragged about working 28 days in a December while I was at Guitar Center. I wore it like a badge of honor, but you know what I wasn’t doing? Spending time with my friends, and actually enjoying my life. I wore that wasted time (at minimum wage) as a badge of honor. Factoring in that that 1 of those 3 days off was Christmas, I now find it all a bit embarrassing that I had so sorely misplaced my priorities.

Ultimately, I believe we’re so brainwashed into believing that success is measured by earning potential, or material possessions that we lose sight of the fact that tomorrow isn’t promised.

We only view those that are fighting for a less-than-40-hour-workweek as being “lazy” because we’re comparing them to our own experiences- what we’ve had to endure, or the jobs and/or careers we’ve chosen, but life doesn’t have to be difficult for someone else just because it was for us, and shame on us for believing it should.

I’d like to believe that those following in our footsteps can have a better road because of us, and as far as I’m concerned, laziness is a measure of the effort you put in while you’re at work, not the number of hours you work.

Grind all you want to, and chase that paper, but don’t chastise someone else for having different priorities than you. ♥- DMFF

Dear Harley

Bloganuary writing prompt

If you could make your pet understand one thing, what would it be?

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Dear Harley,

When I married your mom, I wasn’t a dog person, but she was a package deal, and with her, I became the caregiver for her hound dog, Jake. He was a squirrely rescue that had all the signs of having been abused as he was timid and untrusting of males until you earned it. Unfortunately for us, at the age of six, Jake began defecating and urinating within the home, and what we believed were behavioral issues resulted in the veterinarian diagnosing him with acute liver failure.

Although his mannerisms towards me made him, at times, difficult to deal with, his jaundiced eyes belied the youthful exuberance that existed in a body that had failed him far too soon, and even I, the lover of cats, and someone that claimed not to be a dog person, was heartbroken.

I held him until he passed, and cried as I gasped for air. It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do, and I struggled to come to terms with it for weeks.

Then came a newspaper article about a litter of German Shepradors about 30 miles away, and your mom was adamant that we “check it out.”

“Grab money,” I told her, “I know me, and if I fall in love with one, I’m going to want to bring it home.”

When we arrived, there were two dogs left; You, and your brother. In retrospect, one of the greatest regrets in my life is that I didn’t adopt both of you that day, but I went with my gut instincts, and you have become the greatest dog I’ll ever have.

Although it felt much too soon after Jake’s passing to bring home another dog, I couldn’t believe how you were able to heal our broken hearts in a way that I’ve learned only a dog can.

Eventually came your sister, the tiny human, and eventually your chocolate lab brother, the lovable idiot that we tend to think you still believe is a practical joke, although you’ve embraced him, even if you obviously find him annoying.

Through career changes, familial evolutions, accomplishments, a global pandemic, ($12,000 in surgeries for your cranial c and countless losses, you’ve been our faithful companion, loyal provider of kisses, and occupier of foot-space on the bed, resulting in us sleeping with our knees in our chest, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now that you’re 11, not a day goes by that I don’t think about the inevitable day that sees you leave this world, and no matter how much I may know that, when that day comes, it’s time for you to go, I’ll never be ok with it. You’ve been here for so many chapters in our lives, that it’s hard to imagine writing any without you.

Someday, we’ll have plenty of leg room, our wood floors won’t feature muddy paw prints, nor will they be littered with tufts of white hair that we affectionally refer to as “Harley Glitter” or “Tumble Harleys,” but I’d much rather have all of those small mementos than lose you.

So just know, that with every treat, and every belly rub, and every moment I spend with you, you’re often one of the best parts of my days, and although someday you will be gone from my life, you will live forever in my heart, and in my memories.

Until then, let’s enjoy each and every moment we have together… I love you, buddy.