If 2021 is another carnival ride, let it be a gentle one

When I was a little kid, and before I had enough sense to avoid carnivals, I eagerly boarded a ride one year at the Roosevelt County Fair.

I don’t remember the name of the ride, but I do remember that four or five of us were seated in a pod. Those pods hung precariously on ends of long arms that hurtled us in circles as the ride spun. They also twisted independently, flinging us from side to side.

It took only seconds to realize that stepping foot into that pod had been a terrible decision. I spent almost the entire time screaming for the operator to stop the ride and let me get off but, of course, he did not.

That, my friends, is the best description I can offer of 2020.

As it finally winds down — and in the interest of covering every good luck base that I can — I will be eating two black-eyed pea dishes on New Year’s Day, or possibly three.

I have a head of cabbage waiting in the crisper drawer.

Cornbread is on the menu, along with collard greens.

Fish and pork are considered lucky for New Year’s, because legend has it that fish only swim forward, and pigs root in a forward direction.

I’m no ichthyologist (an expert in fish) or porcus peritum (Latin for pig expert and probably not a thing but work with me here), and I’m skeptical. But I have no desire to go any direction but forward and I am taking no chances. Bacon and salmon, here I come.

Popular lore holds that round foods symbolize coins, and circular shapes in general represent a year coming full circle.

I’m not sure if that is why my mother’s family always ate olives on New Year’s Eve, but yes, I also have a jar of those salty green treats for midnight munching.

If 2021 is another carnival ride, then please let it be a beautiful old-fashioned carousel, one that turns slowly with sweet music, and one that has brass rings for us all.

Betty Williamson has high apple pie in the sky hopes for 2021 (because apples are round and who doesn’t love pie?). Reach her at:

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