goodbye 1921, hello 1922 (or is it goodbye 2021, hello 2022?)

 


Buffalo Times, December 31, 1921.

Warning: this post will mix historical material with working out some thoughts about the present. 

After the roller coaster of 2021, this cartoon feels equally at home now as it did a century ago. 


Brantford Expositor, December 31, 1921. 

After digging through some of the New Year's sentiments and sketches from that era, it's stunning how many only require minor adjustments to reflect present-day concerns and feelings - in many cases, you can replace the continuing repercussions of the First World War with COVID-related issues. 

Regarding this front page cartoon, we're still dealing with housing insecurity, while you could swap labour disputes for the changes brought on (hopefully for the better in the long run) by the pandemic within the current labour force, and business depression into the insecurities surrounding operations under ever-changing conditions.


Buffalo Times, January 1, 1922.

In short, don't lose your head when predicting how the new year will turn out. 

One of my objectives for 2022 is to try and maintain a sense of hope and cautious optimism, working past the overwhelming gloom that is taking a toll on our collective mental health. 


The Globe, January 2, 1922.

Some methods are working, such as increasing my use of the mute function on Twitter on those days where I don't need to hear doomsayers on repeat. I'm not hiding my head in the sand, but it's probably better to limit your intake during rough times. If the right opportunity presents itself, I'd like to make some sort of difference, however minor it is, to society rather than sit back, criticize, and do nothing. 


New York Evening World, December 31, 1921.

Pandemic permitting, I want to live more in the outside world in 2022, and less bound to the virtual one. This doesn't mean abandoning blogs and social media, more being more careful and thoughtful in my time spent on online stuff instead of slowly becoming one with my office chair or phone.


New York Evening World, December 31, 1921. 

This line really struck a nerve:

Most of these hopes have been deferred by the cross-purposes of Governments and the devil of human selfishness and distrust.

So relevant when it comes to both COVID and the divisiveness of our current political culture. I fear that I've grown more misanthropic as the pandemic has progressed, with that nagging feeling that no matter how well I and the majority of people try to adhere to protocols and protect each other, there are days it feels like those filled with selfishness and unreasonable distrust are being catered to out of fear of alienating a political base. Like we're being punished for doing right.

There are days where all I can say is "I hate the rest of humanity."

It's not a feeling I enjoy. My wife constantly reminds me I'm not the only person feeling this way, and that we all have our moments of hopelessness as a coping mechanism. 

I want fewer of these moments in 2022. Maybe I start a handwritten journal to sort out my feelings instead of trapping them in my head, unleashing them on family, or grousing on social media. Maybe I try to counteract negatives with more constructive thoughts. 


Or maybe I craft more goofy photo essays with the porcupines. 

(For those of you not familiar with Qwilly and Qwillamina, they are two little friends I take on adventures, as a way to keep in touch with my sense of wonder with the world and not lose the joy found in everyday things.)

Anything to try avoid turning into a grumpy, miserable wretch 24/7. 


New York Telegram, December 31, 1921.

New Year's might not be a carnival in Toronto this year, but someday it will be again. 

I've got a few ideas in mind to make this a happy year, including, thanks to the encouragement of a friend and colleague, finally taking time to work on a book proposal, based on ideas swimming in nmy head for years that could turn into a true labour of love if everything works out. Professionally, I haven't felt this good in years, with new clients and projects on the horizon over the winter (and I'm always interested in more!).

Perhaps, in the midst of everything that's happening, I can emerge with my professional confidence renewed and less prone to perpetual freelance anxiety?

Stay tuned to find out...


Evening Standard, December 31, 1921.

Across the Atlantic, some of the planned celebrations in London, with a callout to Hogmanay. A reminder of the sense of celebration and festivity we will enjoy again in the future, or hold smaller, quieter, intimate, perhaps even more important versions of in our homes this year.

Good tidings to all, and best wishes to everyone in 2022.

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