Early this morning I was walking with my dog downtown Prescott, AZ, when I saw the tall crane hauling up the famous Prescott cowboy boot. In 3 days that giant boot would be dropped at midnight to signal the end of 2022 and the start of 2023.
… When a good (or bad) time
period nears its end, it seems like “turning a page” or “letting it go out” is
the basic human reaction to that end. The wishes and hopes for what is coming
next are always for the better, even if that time period was a good one.
But when it comes to
cultures celebrating the completion of one calendar year and the arrival of a
new one on New Year’s Eve, there are rather surprising ceremonies around the
globe.
Of course, dropping a
huge ball on Times Square of New York City at midnight on New Year’s Eve has
become popular given the anticipation and advertising. But my favorite
ceremonials are those from Germany and Romania, just because they do not fit
into that “turning the page” anticipated behavior.
“Hope that a heat shapes up” my friend said
years ago when I was in Germany “that means love for next year.”
Of course that sounds a sweet wish, but the context is important – in Germany, it is customary to pour melted lead into a bucket of icy cold water and whatever shape is formed in the water is interpreted as a symbol of what to expect the next year. Called bleigiessen, this lead pouring is among the most unusual New Year’s Eve ceremonies I know. Although, it reminds me of haruspicy in ancient Rome, when the haruspex read the entrails, especially the livers of sacrificed sheep and poultry, to learn about the future.
But wait; forget the
hugging–kissing-whiskey routine: how about starting the new year in a farm
talking with donkeys and sheep as they do in Romania? Even more unexpected,
some Romanian farmers believe that their animals acquire the power of speech on
New Year’s Eve, and hence they spend the evening waiting to hear what a sheep,
a donkey or a horse have to say about the affairs of the world.
… So, dropping a cowboy
boot from the tallest building in the cowboy town of Prescott seems quite
predictable and appropriate compared to what folks do around the world.
My only wish is that one
of those years some engineer would figure out how to make the boot kick as it is
coming down at midnight: what can be more of a universal gesture than to kick what
we do not want anymore out with a cowboy boot!
December 27, 2022
© Vahé A. Kazandjian,
2022
PS/ And, my early morning walk with my dog on January 1, 2023 was a cold, rainy and foggy one. The boot had dropped last night as the number "2023" is seen on the right of the photo.
Now it was resting back atop the building, in the fog.
