As the world sixteen years ago anticipated the end of the 1900s and the coming of 2000, novelist John Updike wrote a story about two young couples who planned a memorable evening to welcome the new decade, the new century, and the new millennium.
One of the husbands had made reservations at an upscale restaurant, guaranteeing their table with his credit card. They got together at one of their houses in the suburbs for drinks and reminiscences before beginning the quest to “ring out the old, ring in the new.”
After several rounds of drinks, with both wives and one husband feeling dizzy headed, they agreed they made a wise move when the other husband had agreed to be the designated driver.
Light traffic on the freeway. They should easily get to the restaurant by nine. Have time for a leisurely meal. Perhaps a little dancing and more drinks before the floor show begins.
Looking forward to ending the old year in fine fashion, they went down the exit ramp and onto the surface streets. They saw few cars on first few blocks, but when they turned onto a major four-lane street, traffic moved at the proverbial snail’s pace.
Not to worry. Plenty of time. Only a couple more miles to the restaurant. Table’s reserved. Paid for. But then:
Traffic slowed to a crawl. Then stopped all together. A multi-car accident blocked the entire road. Ambulances. Fire Trucks. Police.
Minutes turned to hours. They were so close, they actually could see their restaurant across the median. Just a couple of blocks away.
Midnight came and went. 1999 left them. They welcomed the first ninety minutes of the new decade, the new century, the new millennium in the car, irate, swearing, sweaty, tipsy.
Updike was a faithful Christian and churchman and successful novelist and poet whose stories often quietly offer morals. They don’t hit you in the face with preaching. He leaves it to the reader to ferret them out.
Beyond Bobby Burns’s obvious “The best-laid schemes of mice and men gang aft a-gley,” we can look deeper:
Some might say, “If they hadn’t stayed around the house getting drunk, they probably would have been ahead of the wreck.” And that may be true.
On a still deeper level, even sober and clear-headed, the foursome probably loaded more weight on that one evening than most evenings could bear — even this “night of nights” as one decade, one century, and one millennium pass with the striking of midnight. The new day, week, month, year, decade, century, and millennium likely will look strangely like the ones they left behind.
As we sing “Auld Lang Syne,” toast to our friends, and make high-flung resolutions, we may benefit from the reminder of the writer of Psalm 90:
The years of our life are threescore and ten,
or even by reason of strength fourscore;
yet their span is but toil and trouble;
they are soon gone, and we fly away. . . .
So teach us to number our days
that we may get a heart of wisdom.
1 comment:
Very meaningful!!!!
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