17-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:
Tuesday, December 31, 1912: Poor old year, how sad that you must die tonight and vanish forever into the gloomy past. Otherwise this day was the same as others. As I think of the approaching tomorrow, I wonder what that year will bring to me. I leave no deep regrets for this dying year, and though I have done things I ought not to have done, I hope they will not occur again to mar the beauty of the year 1913.
Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:
Does age affect how we think about the past? I don’t think of the past as gloomy—though it gets murkier as time goes by.
New Year’s Eve is a good time for self-reflection. I love Grandma’s cautious optimism—and am keeping my fingers crossed that nothing marred 1913, and that it proved to be a beautiful year.