I was finally coming to grips with the fact that I’m living in the 21st (!) century and now here we are in the previously inconceivable year of 2020. I mean seriously, doesn’t “2020” sound like a subtitle at the beginning of a sci-fi movie? Arguably, we are several years into a post-apocalyptic dystopia at this point, so it’s not like it totally came out of nowhere, but still, that number is nuts.
Or maybe it’s just an age thing. I wonder how my grandparents felt when the calendar rolled over to 1970, or 1980, considering they’d been around for the Great Depression and World War II? My Dad’s dad was born two years after the Wright Brothers’ first flight in Kittyhawk, and lived to see men land on the Moon. Surely towards the end of their lives, they thought the numbers were getting just as far-fetched as I find 2020.
The weird thing is, I remember being in the car on New Year’s Eve, 1969, on the way home from visiting relatives, and the announcer on the radio was wondering what surprises we had in store for us in 1970. That means that at this point, I’ve lived in parts of SIX decades. That’s pretty much the textbook definition of “sobering.”
Anyway, I drew a doodle on the fridge to kick the year off:
I seem to have a lot of trouble coming up with stuff to post here, while at the same time I’m always doodling something or other, so this year I hope to share my drawings, good and bad, warts and all, just so there’s some content for a change.