I almost always celebrate New Year’s Eve somehow.
As a child, it was staying up late with my cousins to watch Dick Clark and the ball drop in Times Square. Our parents usually all went out, and my older cousins got stuck watching us younger ones.
As a teen, my city had a festival with fireworks downtown at midnight that was family friendly. Sometimes my friends and I went to that, and sometimes we stayed home and watched the ball drop.
Once I turned 21, (legal drinking age in the USA), I was most often found in bars at their parties for the evening. Usually the ball drop was on a tv in a corner somewhere with the dj for the night doing the countdown.
In the last few years, I’ve returned to that festival (it’s far too cold this year), and I’ve spent it with my parents. My parents used to have this Extravagant buffet of appetizers and snacks for the evening and into the next day, but we don’t really do that so much anymore.
Really, I’ve returned back to celebrating New Year’s Eve back to the days of my childhood. Sometimes with a cousin, sometimes not, watching the ball drop on tv. Just nowadays it’s Ryan Seacrest and we all look a little older.
Image from Pixabay