Living the stories written

What was it? 1582 or thereabouts, one October 4th some Pope named Gregory decides we need a different calendar. Poof! The next day becomes October the 15th (I remember my dad would have missed his October 10th birthday that year - though I’m not sure they were celebrated much then), and the New Year seems like it ought to start January 1st since January - funnily enough - is named after the Roman God Janus of beginnings and transitions and the like. Much neater than the old April 1st - though I’m not sure if that became a joke before or after - or March 25th or just spring-ish or whatever suited people of various regions. Everybody eventually landing on the same page. I like going back and looking at the beginnings of things and marveling at how they grow and solidify into habit barely thought of. The group of dudes getting together to decide which direction the Bible would steer the masses. The faceless men I grumble at every Spring Forward to daylight savings time. The humble tentative beginnings of so many of our holiday traditions, favorite recipes, mindless acts we carry out throughout every day of our lives as we flip switches and turn keys and press buttons. It all started somewhere, sometimes with a dream, sometimes a blunder, I doubt ever with an understanding of just how firmly it would shape a future world. I hardly ever retain every detail, but I never fail to end my investigations with a sense of perspective. A lightening of the grip of weighty importance to things simply contrived one day for some reason or other long forgotten. We take ourselves too seriously and apply “necessity” too generously.