It's the End of the World as We Know It...

New Year's Eve, 1998, the clock is striking midnight and I've arrived at the Eastover Resort in Lenox, Massachusetts with my good friend, Laurie.

We waited in line at the dining room on our first night, and suddenly these two guys appeared and introduced themselves, saying they’re from Boston. They were really fun and flirty. Laurie and I noticed that they were dragging a rope behind them with something attached to it. This turned out to be a cooler. They opened it and inside that cooler were bottles and bottles of wine and beer. These guys became our instant friends and proceeded to escort us around for the entire weekend.

In fact, after dinner, they gave us a tour of the place. Eastover was originally a grand mansion built in 1909, and by 1998, the place was a bit long in the tooth, but there was a huge heated swimming pool, a ski lift, lots of trails, a toboggan chute and a bowling alley.  

And so came the night of New Year's Eve, 1998. There's a big dance party for the guests who are there to usher in 1999. We're all dressed up and the dance hall is decorated with silver streamers and balloons. Honestly, I felt as if I was re-living my high school prom.  R.E.M. is singing on the loud speaker: It's the End of the World as We Know It and we are laughing and dancing and leaping and waving our arms, singing along It's the end of the world and I feel fine! It's the 1920's all over again. We're flappers! We're the bees knees! The cat's pajamas. Prohibition be damned! Let's dance, because the end is coming and the stock market will crash and the Great Depression and after that--war and destruction and chaos.

Y2K and the end of the world is upon us.

However, the end of the world didn't arrive.

Creative Friends, as we say farewell to 2023, I would like you to take some time to document the fragile fragments of your past year--not the big stories--let CNN take care of the top ten list--the crazy mash-up of Barbie and the Maui Fires, Leonard Bernstein, earthquakes and Taylor Swift. Trump and mass shootings and war, war, war. Rather, I would like you to dig deep into the fragments of your own precious life, the delicate memories of these past 365 days on Planet Earth. This is your treasure trove, friends. This is your personal map to creativity.

No, it is not the end of the world as we know it. And even if it is, why not go out making art.

Love,

Jamie