New Year’s Resolutions and Other Things We Swear By

By Mark Morgan

Every New Year, folks get real serious right about midnight — when the fireworks fade, the snacks run low, and somebody’s already fixing’ to regret something. That’s when the resolutions show up, polished up like new wagon wheels… right before they hit the first stump and wobble clear into February.

Some people look for fireworks at midnight. We just looked for trouble, and nine times outta ten, trouble had already found us — usually yonder near where somebody said, “Watch this.”

Every year it’s the same promises.“I’m gonna quit smoking.”“I’m gonna stop cussin’.”“I’m gonna go to church more.”

All good intentions — just a little optimistic for folks who once promised they wouldn’t touch the electric fence again.

We meant it, too.

But by about January 3rd, half the town’s back to doing what they always did, standing around saying, “Well, I reckon I’ll start Monday,” which is the biggest lie ever told by sivilized man.

Back then, we didn’t write resolutions down. You just hoped to do better and trusted folks not to mention it when you didn’t. A spilled drink wasn’t a mess — it was a deluge. A small argument wasn’t a disagreement — it was “the biggest fuss this town’s seen since ’82.” And a broken resolution wasn’t failure — it was just another Tuesday.

Old folks explained life real simple.“You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”“Slow and steady wins the race — unless you’re chasing a greased pig.”

Both were true, and neither one ever stopped anybody from trying anyway.

Human nature’s been the same since critters learned how to sneak under fences. We aim high, trip low, and act surprised every time. We want to eat better, but biscuits exist. We want to save money, but yonder sits something shiny calling our name.

And yet, every year, we try again.

So here’s the moral, plain as day:

If you make it past January without breaking a resolution, you’re either lying, missing out on living, or ain’t from around here.