Year's End

by Sheila Connolly

As usual, I still haven't sent out my holiday cards. Note that I don't specify which holiday I mean. Maybe I'll try for St. Brigid's Day (Imbolc or Imbolg), or St Brigid’s Day, Irish Lá Fhéile Bríde,) an Irish festival, most commonly celebrated on 1 or 2 February. Brigid is the female equivalent of St. Patrick in Ireland. Her day celebrates the beginning of spring, when the ewes are about to give birth. (You may recognize St. Brigid's cross, which is placed at the entrance of a home to ward off evil.)

I can get these done in the next month, can't I? I like to send (real, physical) cards, complete with an annual newsletter, even though I know the latter is the butt of many jokes. "Yes, Jake is looking forward to his release from prison, while Janie has found a cure for cancer, which she has been testing on our (late) gerbils." I've been on the receiving end of my share.

But I think it's still a good thing to try to boil down what you think was important from the year that's ending. Admittedly that that may not be the same as what you believe other people (dear or distant) will want to know about you and your loved ones. Sure, we all try to clean up our image for the general public, but a lot of the people I still send cards to go back years, even decades (at least one high school pal, and several from college), and they've been through thick and thin with me. They deserve an honest summary.

So, 2011 … Well, I didn't see the broken ankle coming, and I might have chosen to skip that, except that in a true writerly manner I milked the experience for all I could, and, yes, there will be a broken bone in the Irish book that's a-coming in a year or so. I was also obscurely pleased to find that the hospital where I spent a few days is also the site of the Cork County morgue, which is where autopsies are performed. Useful to know.

Fractures aside, Ireland of course was lovely, as always. It's always a pleasure to see it free of tourists (hey, I'm not a tourist!), and people are happy to talk to you. We were there during the last Irish Parliamentary elections, and it was fascinating to see how different they were from the U.S. version (of those, the less said, the better). I even collected pictures of campaign posters in Dublin.

I was thrilled when my publisher renewed not one but both of my ongoing series (which surprised even my agent). I now have a schedule that extends out for years, assuming the publishing industry survives in some form. But I think it will, despite the upheavals and growing pains going on at the moment. People still want the words, whatever form they take. Let us all hope that authors gain a little more control over their own works, and publishers recognize the fairness of that.

We older folks (my husband and I) are more and more subject to the creeping ailments of ageing—aches and pains, petty afflictions that can drive you nuts, like dry eye and fungus in the ear (what, you haven't had that yet? Just wait!). I now understand what all those cheesy commercials are about (well, except for the ones with the two bathtubs...).

Our lovely daughter, with an honors degree from an excellent college, still doesn't know what she wants to do with her life, although she's pretty sure it doesn't involve retail sales. She's currently planning to take some time off and indulge in a Wanderjahr, visiting friends and seeing the sights. She's been good about saving money, so she can afford it. I have to admit I have no words of wisdom for what a bright young person should do in today's economy—it seems like all the rules we grew up with no longer apply. So I can't exactly disapprove of her taking off and having some fun, while she's still young and unencumbered. Go forth and build some happy memories!

I could write this holiday letter to include nothing but complaints, but I'm definitely a glass half-full type of person, so I celebrate the good parts—and channel the bad parts into my writing!

MAY THE NEW YEAR BRING YOU ALL THAT YOU DESIRE!

What is this thing and why am I keeping it?

Most of us have them. Some of us have entire drawers or closet shelves filled with them. Those funny-looking little parts that came off something or other (can't recall what, exactly), those keys that must fit a lock somewhere (we can't recall where, exactly), those odds and ends that we're afraid to throw away because the day might come when we'll have an urgent need that only they can fill. What does the stuff we save say about us?

You decide. Today Poe's Deadly Daughters open their junk drawers and closets and expose a few of the items lurking there.

Elizabeth Zelvin:

I decided to take the macro route in answering this question. I had only to open the nearest closet and take a gander at the top shelves, which hold three sleeping bags and a tent from the pre-pop-up era. My husband has adamantly refused to go camping since we last used these things in 1982 in Bar Harbor, ME. My son was at camp in the area, and I drove us and my mother’s car into a ten-foot ditch to avoid a pile-up when a driver five cars ahead suddenly decided to make a left turn on two-lane US 1. Also on the shelf: a crumpled black cap and gown that I initially thought must date from my master’s degree in social work from Columbia University in 1985. But on second thoughts, I think my son wore them at his graduation from Stuyvesant High School in 1988. He’ll turn 40 this year. But you never know. Somebody in the family might need them. Peeping out from behind the mortarboard is a foam neck brace. We got whiplash back in 1982, and my husband is currently getting over a herniated disc in his neck. If we’d only held on to the old neck brace, we wouldn’t have had to go out and buy a new one.

Lonnie Cruse:

Okay, I'll cop to owning the aforementioned multitude of odd keys that no one in our family claims. Strangely enough, we went through those keys just last week, tried them in every door in the house, and discovered three or four that should have been on my key ring (dead bolt for front door, keys to back door, and why weren't those on my key ring where they belonged to begin with?). We found the keys we give to guests staying with us and promptly put them in the proverbial "safe place." Now I just have to remember where that is. Beyond that, we still have a handful of odd keys (pictured right) and we have no idea what they open. Sigh.

We're hoping that a couple of them belong to our grown kids. (They did trust us with keys to their houses a long while back. Perhaps that trust was misplaced? Hmmm.) I've got them in an envelope and plan to try them at the kid's houses sometime soon, to see if we need to keep them.

Beyond that, we still had another handful of keys that opened absolutely nothing we now own. Not the garage. Not the shed. Not the house. Not a P. O. Box, nor a safe deposit box. They aren't car keys. Who knows what they are or where they belong? We tossed them. Which means that whatever they did/do belong to will suddenly and most urgently have to be unlocked sometime next week, something that hasn't needed to be unlocked in decades. And we won't have the key(s) anymore. Anyone know a good locksmith? Sigh.

Julia Buckley:

There are two items that I always grab at the store when I see them: tealights and tiny bows. Therefore many a drawer in my house will contain random bows like these. The advantage of tiny bows? They work on little presents, big presents, even envelopes that need a special flair. If I could put bows on verbal sentiments, I would. :)

Other things that you might see, a la I SPY, in this picture, are the legs of a Sherlock Holmes greeting card that I never sent (I suspect I bought it for myself); a Borders gift card that I just received for Christmas; paper, scissors, marker, tape, some blank DVDs. And the only reason that this drawer seems so light on junk is that we just bought the desk about a month ago. :) The TRUE junk drawers were just too intimidating to take apart--although one of them held every school i.d. I was ever issued. I wonder why I saved those? To prove that I existed in the 80s? To prove that I once weighed far less than I do now? Who knows. The mysteries of our junk drawers may never be solved--but they're fun to examine, nonetheless.

Sandra Parshall:

Like Lonnie, I have old keys that fit no lock I can identify, as well as a couple that might still get me into a house we sold 15 years ago. Like Liz, I’m giving closet space to things I’m unlikely to use again. For some reason, I’ve saved the zip-out linings of coats but not the coats themselves. I also have countless left-hand garden gloves, mateless because the right-hand gloves wear out
first.

Book bags acquired at mystery conferences have multiplied much faster than they should have, considering how few conferences I attend, and I really should be using them. But what do I carry stuff in when I go to the library? My National Gallery of Art bag.

I didn’t realize until Christmas, when I received a desperately needed new wallet as a gift, that I’ve been carrying a certain amount of detritus everywhere I go. While cleaning out all the slots and hidden compartments of my old wallet, I removed an expired driver’s license (tucked behind the current one), an expired insurance card, a bookstore discount card I haven’t used in years, a scribbled address that doesn’t look familiar (intriguing), a couple of raffle tickets (For what? Who knows?), and two DC Metro farecards so ancient they don’t even have Tai Shan’s picture on them. My new wallet is starting fresh, but it won’t be long...

Sharon Wildwind:



















I regret to admit that in 2009 I came down with a case of chronic ephemera; that dreaded mixed-media art malady, which says everything, no matter how small or odd, should be saved because it might one day be useful to make art. It’s the writers’ equivalent of saving snips of dialog and descriptions because one day they might make a story. The difference is that all of the writing treasures can be saved in a small journal, while chronic ephemera tends to take up more space each year. So far, I’ve managed to confine my addiction to one medium-sized box, containing several plastic trays, like the one above. And no, I'm not looking for more stuff, so forget about sending me your spare keys, mismatched buttons, and collection of springs . . . well, unless it's something really unique, then I might be interested. Oh, heck, send photos, we'll negotiate.

I came upon this quote today, and it hit the nail on the head about how I feel about the coming year. Peace and a Happy New Year to everyone.

"We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives...not looking for flaws, but for potential."
~Ellen Goodman, Pulitzer prize winning columnist, author, speaker, and commentator
----
Now it’s your turn. What’s in your junk drawer or stuffed in the back of your hall closet? What useless items do you feel compelled to keep forever?

New Year's Greetings

--I wish all of you the comfort of good stories, both in books and in your lives. Hugs. Stay warm everyone, Sharon

--I wish everyone a wonderful year of great reading and getting totally lost in the stories. So grab a good book, a cup of something warm and comforting to sip on, a blankie, and snuggle into your best chair. Lonnie/planning on doing same

--May you find piles of entertaining books during 2009 and time to enjoy them. Thanks for stopping by Poe's Deadly Daughters this past year. Darlene

--I wish all you mystery readers (and that includes me) a mile-high To Be Read pile, enough free time to read 'em all, and no disappointments. I wish the writers among us the perfect agent, advantageous contracts, and multitudes of readers--but above all, moments when that mysterious creative force we call inspiration is flowing straight through you and out onto the page or screen. Liz

--I wish all of you the kind of rewarding friendships I've been fortunate enough to find in the mystery community among both writers and readers. We love mayhem on the page, but with each other mystery folk are kind, forgiving and generous -- and just plain fun to be around! Sandy

--I shall share the words of one of my favorite wags, Mark Twain: "Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual."

But if that one is a bit too sassy, here is a beautiful thought from T.S. Eliot:

"For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning." (from Little Gidding).

May we all find our voices in the New Year, and we hope you'll share your voices here.

Best wishes of the season, Julia