I’m not sure I know how to “do” the morning of January 1st without watching the Tournament of Roses Parade. It’s left me in a bit of a state. I did not know there is a “never on a Sunday” rule.
From what I could discover, back in the 19th century, organizers were very concerned the parade would spook the horses waiting outside churches for their owners. Who knows if that is actually the case, but it made me wonder how many churches dotted the streets of late-19th century Pasadena. A lot, apparently, given the organizer’s concern. Not that the city of Pasadena was all that big in the 1890s, nor the parade, for that matter. But, since all things are relative, to the organizers of the time, it obviously was a significant issue.
The reason for the not-on-Sunday rule no longer holds in the modern age of 24/7 and the automobile, but the rule remains. Sort of like why school lets out for summer so that children can help with the harvest, or the original thinking behind Daylight Savings. Makes little sense now, but that’s the way it’s been done, so the rule remains.
In years that the 1st lands on a Sunday, the parade is held on Monday, January 2nd, when most of the world is molting the jolly holiday season and returning to life as usual. It will be strange and anti-climatic to watch the parade on Monday, for it will have to wait until I’m home from work, and while I box up my decorations and haul the tree to the curb for pick-up. Strange, but, somehow a perfect way to cap off the weird and off-kilter year 2016 turned out to be.
Anyway, I wish for all a very happy new year ahead. May all the benefit-of-the-doubters and this-too-shall-passers prevail over the prognosticators that Brexit and DJT’s election are the seventh sign of the apocalypse.