You’ll notice a couple of places in this issue where I’ve been named responsible for the “New Year, New You” cover story. That dang editor is at it again! The truth is, the Flyer has done some form of this theme for as long as I can remember for its first issue at the turn of a new year. It had its place on the publication calendar long before I took the helm, so, objectively, for this edition at least, we’re still the same ol’ Flyer despite annually rallying for a “new you.” (Former editor and longtime “New Year, New You” “responsible party” Bruce VanWyngarden finally let the intrusive thoughts win this round; see “New Year, New Ewe.”)
Anyhow, we like you exactly as you are! And you get bonus cool points just for being here. But if you’re thinking of reinventing yourself, exploring new activities, or (not-so) simply putting the phone down for a change, our writers have some thoughts for you.
If, like me, resolutions aren’t your thing, maybe you’ll take a lesson in something I’ve learned from my dad: zip-a-dee-doo-dah. Let me explain. My 60-something-year-old father is the primary caretaker for my paraplegic brother, a commitment he fulfills with love and grace. He’s the family’s black sheep — outspoken, a country boy through and through, perhaps a bit wild — if you believe the stories (hint* they’re true). By most accounts, his life hasn’t been easy. Through the back-to-back deaths of my grandparents, my brother’s health challenges, nearly two years of sibling squabbles over estate matters, (minor outbursts aside) my dad remains as calm and cool as can be. “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah,” he says as he tells me my brother threw a fit to be discharged from the hospital. “It’s another wonderful day!” he responds when I call stressed out over … any of the many things that stress me out. “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah,” he replies when I swear everything is falling apart (it’s not).
Before I go any further, I’m aware of controversy over the 1946 Disney film from which the line “zip-a-dee-doo-dah” was pulled. What I’m writing here has nothing to do with that. Please don’t hang me out to dry! Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, for my dad anyway, is a way of life, a motto by which to live. It’s closely akin to “hakuna matata” — which, thanks to The Lion King, we all know means “no worries.” Maybe I should have used that as the title of this piece instead. No one has anything bad to say about The Lion King. (Who am I kidding? You name it, someone’s got a gripe.) Oh well. The idea is to stop taking things so seriously. This has been a longtime battle for my overthinking, overanalyzing brain: Everything is serious! Something could go wrong at any time, and what do we do then? Let’s ponder every possible, surely horrible outcome!
So that is what we won’t do this year, okay? We won’t be guided by fear. We won’t expect the worst. We won’t agonize over things that haven’t happened yet. Instead, we will let go of what we can’t control, or the need for control. We’ll smile through the hard stuff. When life starts life-ing a little too hard, we will say to ourselves, quietly (or loudly to really drive it home), “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah!” And you’ll know when it’s time. A flat tire? Zip-a-dee-doo-dah. Water heater went out? Zip-a-dee-doo-dah. Editor asks you to write another “New Year, New You” blurb? Zip-a-dee-doo-dah! Much like “hakuna matata,” it’s a “problem-free philosophy.”
We’ll still run into problems, of course. But maybe we’ll look at them as opportunities. Maybe we’ll start with small steps to address the ones we want to fix. But we certainly won’t worry. There’s just no sense in that. We’re going to go with the flow. We’re going to let that sh*t go. My dad says so, and that’s that.