Nothing says “Happy New Year” like a misshapen potato playing at dandyism with boots, hat, and umbrella, am I right? His trailing roots add a special festive touch. I also found a pickle man, but couldn’t capture the image for you (so sorry). I just showed this to my husband because it’s the weirdest one I found, and he said, “It seems like in the not-too-distant past, vegetables had more active social lives.” (So you can see why I married him).
And speaking of anthropomorphism…
Okay, that is almost as cute as it is weird. Like, getting so drunk that you drop your glass and kiss the whiskey when you’re clearly Chianti. Does that seem like you’re thinking of Glad Memories and Future Hopes? Or are you just trying to blot out a terrible year with some cross-spirits over-indulging? Either way, these tipsy bottles send New Year Greetings to one and all.
There’s nothing anthropomorphized here. Just a giant wasp, its barbed tail curled and ready to strike, determined to wish you a “Joyous New Year” by stinging these innocent tots in their middy blouses and sailor suits.
I’m looking for deeper symbolic meaning here, like, the wasp is the old year, chasing away the new year as symbolized by these children? And there’s another umbrella for whatever reasons (the potato man is also holding an umbrella). Does the umbrella mean anything? So many mysteries, lost to Time’s unending march…
This is German. I’d know that even if I didn’t recognize the phrase, which translates as Happy New Year, but looks like I’m being wished a Frolicsome new year, which sounds more fun.
It’s the roasted pig on foot that gets me. He’s already roasted, so wouldn’t this be a New Year’s Pig Zombie? Right? There’s an old ad for sausage where the pig is slicing its own middle into perfectly round slices of sausage. This Neujahr Greeting reminds me of that, as if the pig is willingly participating in his own slaughter by running along with carving tools in his back. So weird, so German.
If the pig must be running, I prefer this:
“Happy driving in the New Year.” Can’t you just hear the song that goes with this? Dashing through the snow / in a four pig open sleigh / mushroom by my side, and hey…why is that crow wearing pants? I’m not sure, but those piggies look as focused as sled dogs, really giving their all to the Swine Iditarod, or whatever this is. Clearly, pigs have skills.
“Feliz Ano Nuevo.” This one is in Spanish, I can tell that even without Google’s help. This is one fierce pig, just look at the intense focus in his wee piggy eyes. He’s been trained by a chimp, and we all know how smart chimps are. But again, my friend April, the vegetarian, is always telling me how smart pigs are, and how sweet, and how pigs have surprising skills.
I just reply, “Bacon.” But anyway…
I think this next card is taking it too far. I don’t know what language this “Boldog Ujevet” greeting is in, and if I weren’t so lazy I’d Google it (okay I Googled it and it’s Hungarian), but this is a dark, dark story, here.
That man clearly has designs on the piggy in the ruffled apron and fetching pink shoes. He appears to be a chimney sweep, what with the ladder and broom. So he’s going to clean the chimney, get her drunk and do something bestial before roasting her in the newly cleaned fireplace.
And then I thought, no, this is an even darker story of survival at all costs. A subversive effort on the part of the pig. She (or possibly he, it might be a male pig disguising himself as a sow because desperate times call for desperate measures) is going to use its porcine wiles so as to avoid being dinner. Get that sweep drunk and shove him and his Boldog Ujevet right up his own damn chimney. Start a fire and say, “Oh heavens no, I didn’t know he was up there!”
I’m cheering on this pig. Like I said, pigs have skills.
Unless they’re drunk.
It’s a Piggy Party! This one is pretty funny, especially when you see the boy holding the switch gazing lovingly at the drunken pigs. Why is he so happy? He came out there to beat them into their sty (see: switch), and there they are drunk out of their little piggy brains. It’s a happy story! No pigs will die! He’s too charmed to even beat them! Oh, those silly pigs!
A drunken pig must be a sign of good fortune in the year to come. Why else would so many of us transform ourselves into drunken pigs on NYE? (Not me, we will be lucky to make it to ten PM, I’m a sleepy pig).
This grinning frog and I wish you a Happy New Year full of many symbols of good fortune, including keys and mushrooms and four-leaf shamrocks and horseshoes, and of course (if you drink it), champagne. It’s been a difficult year for too many people I care about, which means it’s been difficult for me, but only because I care. My husband and I are fortunate enough to end this year healthy and happy and surrounded by family and friends. For that, I’m incredibly grateful.
Here’s to 2024!
Four siblings celebrating Christmas Eve in 1980 with our buttons. My brothers and I were really into big pin-on buttons, and my sister liked the small ones with ironic sayings, preferably regarding rock and roll. One of those is possibly hiding on the lapel of her velvet blazer.
Even if I didn’t give you the dates, you should be able to place this as the late 70s/early 80s by the frames of those magnificent glasses. This was taken at my parents’ home in Portland, a split-entry Capp Home they somehow put together from piles of lumber dumped at a muddy lot. We were all briefly jammed in there at this point, a situation that really couldn’t last.
I was 20, which would make my younger brother 9, my sister 23 by a single day, and my older brother 26. Babies, all of us. I believe I was still legally married to my first husband at this point, and I would have my first date with my second husband that coming New Year’s Eve. My third husband is probably reading this, and he dislikes reading about any men in my past. Honey, you know I love you best and always.
The kitty was Casey Jones of the golden yellow eyes and the rip-snorty purr.
Me and my mom, Christmas morning of 1979. This year, my mother, sister and I had matching robes (Cat’s was green). We celebrated in Eugene, where my sister lived with her first husband. I was nineteen, still married, still living in Montana, and profoundly unhappy. I would make my big break that next year, and head to Portland to reinvent myself. I would also cut off my hair.
I was twelve here, and my sister was fifteen. We were living on Pine Street in Booneville, Arkansas. Our mom was in the hospital for this Christmas, so it was a low-key affair, and of course it was probably seventy-five degrees because Arkansas didn’t have a winter as far as we could tell. This was quite different for us, as we’d grown up in South Dakota and Minnesota. We loved wearing summer clothes on Christmas Day.
A friend of mine said once that we looked like we were tying bows with our prehensile toes, which made me giggle and still makes me smile when I look at our bare feet.
My sister and me at our grandparents’ farm house in 1966 or 1967, I’m not sure. I think 66. You can’t see it, but I’m wearing my favorite hair barrette in this photo..a pink dog, sort of reclining, with google eyes. My mother made the dress I’m wearing, and my sister’s dress is store-bought. The next year, I’d wear that pretty plaid number for the holidays, but a few years later I’d catch up and no longer wear her hand-me-downs.
My grandparents had an artificial tree trimmed with gold glass beads, gold satin balls, red velvet bows and spun cotton birds with real feathers. I found it unspeakably elegant. For this photo, we were instructed to hold our favorite presents. I selected my smallest gift, because I always loved miniature things. We opened presents on Christmas Eve following an all-white Norwegian dinner. I found Christmas Eve to be the longest day of the year.
I’m going to see the whole troop, since all my kids and their kids live in the Portland area again. The trees are trimmed and the presents are wrapped. The menu is planned but not provisioned, but I have days left to get that done.
I hope you all have a wonderful, magical, rambunctious and/or peaceful holiday. I’m hoping for all of the above.