By Jay Jamison At the beginning of a new year, we’re supposed to turn a new leaf, start with a clean slate, and begin afresh. This is supposed to be our chance to make a clean start on making a better world for ourselves and for everyone else. Of course, we could do all those noble things at any time of the year, but some choose the celebration of the new year to make these resolutions. Some new year’s resolutions are benchmarks for our own self-improvement. I’m going to lose weight, exercise more, swear less, eat more green leafy vegetables, eat less red meat, drink less, be less condescending, learn to play the piano, tell fewer bad jokes, and in general begin the moral uplift that we’re all expected to pursue when given that second chance that a new year provides … Nah. Many, if not most, of us of a certain age know that the majority of these noble goals are unlikely to be attained in the new year. I just turned 69 years old. I know that there is a zero chance that I’ll learn how to play the piano in the time I have left, let alone in the condensed period in 2025. Many of us are creatures of habit. The vices listed above are, to a greater or lesser extent, habits that I have acquired over a lifetime. If I have made any moderations along the way, I assure you those changes had nothing to do with new year’s resolutions. If my doctor suggests that continuing a certain habit will very likely bring about my immanent premature demise, that may be sufficient for me to make a change. That’s a clinical assessment, not some quasi-moralizing packed into a new year’s resolution. One problem I have with new year’s resolutions is that some people seem compelled to make them as public announcements. For example, please don’t tell me that you’ve resolved to eat more kale in 2025. I won’t hector you with my imagined virtue, if you don’t bother me with yours. Since my belief that kale is probably the main dish served in hell, eating it is no signal of virtue to me. I suspect that persistent kale virtue signalers will probably be getting their fair share in the afterlife. OK, OK. I don’t really wish harm on anyone. If you want to begin eating kale, or some other imagined act of self-improvement, that’s fine with me. Just leave me off the announcement list. Wishing people a happy new year, offering someone your best wishes for the coming new year is different than announcing how you’re turning a new leaf of self-improvement. I don’t mind those who quietly wish others well. Unlike virtue signaling, which I view as mostly signaling — look at me! What a good boy am I — accompanied by a thin veneer of virtue; wishing someone well is not self-regarding. Expressing good wishes for someone else seems to me of a higher order of value than the puffed-up appraisals of what we may wish for ourselves. Happy New Year.
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