Happy New Year!

I hate New Year’s Eve, because it is the precursor to the end of Christmas celebration and the beginning of the two sorriest months of the next year. True, my birthday is in February. Need I say more? However, somehow, a few good friends finagled a party at my house and it really went pretty well. Jack was very happy until the next day when he realized that he and our friend Ray, with not quite as much help from friend Mike, had consumed an entire bottle of Sake chased with beer and champagne. Luckily, it was the finest of Sake, sent to him from his co-worker in Japan, but even the best of something that potent can kill you the next day. (And it almost did according to Jack who hardly drinks at all, so certainly shouldn’t overdo with that hardcore choice.)

Anyway, friend Jill decided to make some Brandy Alexanders, the equivalent of a milkshake with alcohol, which probably saved the women a bit because it prepared our stomach linings for the wine, and so on that we consumed later. She wanted a certain size of glass so I opened up my cabinets to reveal the results of a very strange story – at least 35 to 40 leaded crystal bar glasses of various sizes along with our other assorted glassware. She knew the story but when she first saw them had asked, “Why do you have so many glasses?” Even then she said, “I still can’t believe that story.”

Here it is. A few years ago, before the country drive perpendicular to our residence wasn’t a suicide mission for pedestrians, Jack and I walked along its grassy pathway every few days in an attempt to be “healthy.” One day, I spotted one of these glasses in the grass, picked it up and said, “Wow, that’s a nice glass for someone to throw out of a car.” Jack agreed and, pack rat that he is, told me that a dishwasher would sanitize it. I wasn’t convinced, but he brought it home.

Next weekend, we found its mate, and because it was a bit strange to have done so, Jack brought it home too. The next week, we found four of the unblemished and high quality glasses. Jack put them in his coat pockets. We showed our son that we had found half a dozen of the set and he replied, “What are we, hobos?!” Now we competed to spot one of the treasures and we were also mystery solvers. For example, we surmised that it must be a bartender who hated his/her boss, took a highball when leaving work (sometimes with friends) then threw the glass (or glasses) out on the way home. We had all sorts of theories. By the end of the summer, we owned a collection of about four dozen really nice bar glasses. I painted golden Christmas trees on a set of four for each of my family members, and labeled them “Roadware” from Jack & Gail.

The glassware disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. We never figured it out, but Jill decided that they were the perfect size for her Brandy Alexanders. Just goes to show you that the smallest of incidences can carry good memories--something for even us curmudgeons to keep in mind.

Happy New Year to all!