HAPPY NEW YEAR

 New Year is the time at which a new calendar year begins and the calendar's year count is incremented. In many cultures, the event is celebrated in some manner.^[1] The New Year of the Gregorian calendar, today in worldwide use, falls on 1 January, as was the case with the Roman calendar. There are numerous calendars that remain in regional use that calculate the New Year differently.

The order of months in the Roman calendar was January to December since King Numa Pompilius in about 700 BC, according to Plutarch and Macrobius. According to Catholic tradition, 1 January is the day of the circumcision of Jesus (on the eighth day from his birth), when the name of Jesus was given to him (Luke 2:21).

It was only relatively recently that 1 January again became the first day of the year in Western culture. Until 1751 in England and Wales (and all British dominions) the new year started on 25 March – Lady Day, one of the four quarter days (the change to 1 January took place in 1600 in Scotland).^[2] Since then, 1 January has been the first day of the year. During the Middle Ages several other days were variously taken as the beginning of the calendar year (1 March, 25 March, Easter, 1 September, 25 December).^{[citation needed][where?]} In many countries, such as the Czech Republic, Italy and the UK, 1 January is a national holiday.

For information about the changeover from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar and the effect on the dating of historical events etc., see Old Style and New Style dates.

With the expansion of Western culture to many other places in the world during recent centuries, the Gregorian calendar has been adopted by many other countries as the official calendar, and the 1 January date of New Year has become global, even in countries with their own New Year celebrations on other days (such as China and India). In the culture of Latin America there are a variety of traditions and superstitions surrounding these dates^{[clarification needed]} as omens for the coming year. The most common modern dates of celebration are listed below, ordered and grouped by their appearance relative to the conventional Western calendar.

HAPPY CRISTMAS

LYRIS

The traditional lyrics are:

Jolly Old Saint Nicholas,
Lean your ear this way;
Don't you tell a single soul
What I'm going to say,

Christmas Eve is coming soon;
Now you dear old man,
Whisper what you'll bring to me;
Tell me if you can.

When the clock is striking twelve,
When I'm fast asleep,
Down the chimney broad and black
With your pack you'll creep;
All the stockings you will find
Hanging in a row;
Mine will be the shortest one;
You'll be sure to know. (Or, in some versions: "Mended at the toe.")

Johnny wants a pair of skates;
Susy wants a dolly;
Nellie wants a story book--
She thinks dolls are folly; (Or, in some versions: "She thinks they are jolly.")
As for me, my little brain
Isn't very bright;
Choose for me, old Santa Claus,
What you think is right.

The last verse has been changed in the 20th Century to:

Johnny wants a pair of skates,
Susie wants a sled;
Nelly wants a storybook –
one she hasn't read.
As for me, I hardly know,
so I'll go to rest.
Choose for me, dear Santa Claus,
What you think is best.

Another 20th C. variation:

Johnny wants a pair of skates;
Susie wants a sled;
Nelly wants a picture book –
Yellow, blue and red.
Now I think I'll leave to you
What to give the rest.
Choose for me, dear Santa Claus;
You will know the best.

             A FEW WORDS ABOUT CHRISTMAS

Christmas—or for the PC crowd, the celebration of the Frost Spirit—ushers in the season of neighborly good will and familial mirth. By the way, I didn’t make that bit up about the Frost Spirit. That new age nonsense was proffered by an HR rep at a previous employer. I digress. Christmas is a time for creating memories, connecting with family, lying to children, and fostering fantastic ideas of legendary figures emboldened by their altruistic natures. Of course, these figures take on mystical forms: impudent elvish serfs and the airborne beasts for whom they care. All of whom inhabit the uninhabitable: the most inhospitable of working environs. So we, as trusted parents—purveyors of wisdom and common sense to our young lads and lasses—perpetuate the myth of the elfin home invader. A seemingly benevolent soul, this bauble buccaneer and workplace despot steals into our homes in the dead of night bearing a bottomless bag of gifts and timeless Christmas memories. No insurance actuarial could even begin to calculate the damage to our shingles and chimneys that he and his hapless reindeer render cause when they crash land on our roofs and he wedges his ample self down the flu. The horror. So, it begs the question: are their motives nefarious? Who can say, but this modern day horror story that we proffer to young impressionable progeny no doubt leaves them questioning the once thought impervious stronghold they call home. So for this—this conjured story of gift-bearing little people and reindeer imbued with magical flying stealth—we sacrifice our credibility? Honestly, there must certainly be something wicked permeating the air during this winter of our communal discontent to compel us to ditch our foothold in reason and honor.

Merry Christmas!