The first day of 2025 I took a bike ride along the New River. The Deadheads were gone from in front of the Broward Center, but diners at the House on the River performed a modern imitation of Renoir’s “Luncheon of the Boating Party.” Then I entered the urban canyon, passing more flaneurs, all the way to the Stranahan House, where a small crowd waited for the water taxi. Boats, people, buildings, trees, bicycles, dogs all beautifully cast in soft winter sunlight.
One of the worst cliches in travel writing is “land of contrasts,” for it can be used to describe any number of places. But perhaps no place fits the description better than the United States. We have some of the world’s most overweight people and some of the world’s most health-conscious. We have terrible schools and great universities. For presidents, we’ve had Jimmy Carter and Donald Trump. Though it’s not clear if this last one is an example of our many national dichotomies or an indication of our national decline.
Jimmy Carter was the only president - or I should say "ex-president" - I ever met. (I think of the thousands of people who can say that; interesting that the most soft-spoken and unassuming president in my lifetime was also the most outgoing.) It was in 1984 or 85; I was a staff writer – the staff writer – for the Observer, the monthly publication of the American College of Physicians, and I was covering a conference on preventive medicine at the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. After the panels, various speakers, including President Carter, met individually with the media. I no longer remember what he said; all I remember is that he gave me, a writer from a small, little-known, organizational publication, the same amount of time and consideration that he gave all of the other reporters.
Everyone writes about the evils of social media, and yet this morning I read a post from a woman who wrote that every Christmas Eve morning her mother would light a bayberry candle on the kitchen table and let it burn all day until it extinguished itself. (This was supposed to bring good fortune in the coming year.) And I was reminded, for the first time in years, that my mother did the same thing.
An interesting interview with Rick Steves in yesterday’s New York Times magazine, particularly when he talked about the personal costs of travel (though they were similar to those experienced by many workaholics). And he somewhat downplayed the environmental costs. He claimed that, if suddenly rendered unable to travel, he would embrace the situation, taking as much joy in the pleasures of home as he did those of the road. It reminded me of Jonathan Raban’s acceptance of, and fascination with, the stroke that ended his traveling life (which he brilliantly chronicles in his memoir Father and Son). Good travelers possess an innate optimism, and curiosity about things, that serve them well wherever they are.
Early last month my “40s Junction” channel on Sirius XM was temporarily taken over by “Holiday Traditions.” It seemed a little early to me – I didn’t start listening till after Thanksgiving – but perhaps, I thought, they wanted to make sure they got in all of the great Christmas carols and songs.
A week before Christmas, I now realize they wanted to bombard us with a few select standards: “Jingle Bells,” “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” “Little Drummer Boy,” “Joy to the World.” Even carols I love, like “O Holy Night,” I’m getting a little tired of. I have not heard “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” (a beautiful Advent carol), let alone “In the Bleak Midwinter.”
I don’t know why I expected more. The situation is the same on the pop stations. Gordon Lightfoot, according to Sirius, wrote two songs: “Sundown” and “Carefree Highway” (in my opinion, two of his least interesting). OK, sometimes you hear “If You Could Read My Mind,” but never “Approaching Lavender.” With Simon & Garfunkel, you get a handful – “Sounds of Silence” and of course “Mrs. Robinson” ad infinitum – but never “Old Friends” or “April Come She Will.”
In a country, and a time, that’s all about diversity, we get very little of it on the radio. And don’t get me started on television.