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Bringing in the new year isn't what it used to be. This time around, I was perfectly content to celebrate the changing of the calendar by sharing a single bottle of champagne with my wife, Julie. This, after a movie and a late dinner, brought about an interesting result -- I actually felt good on the first day of 1998.

Julie and I brought in the new year quietly and privately this year. A few years ago I'd have thought it boring, but now I just don't need all of that noise and hoopla.

We went to a local theater to see the new Mr. Magoo movie, which Disney released amidst strong opposition from the National Federation of the Blind (NFB). I thought it was done tastefully and was funny.

After the movie came the high-point of the evening. We made reservations at Mino's Cucina Italiana. Over the past couple of years Julie and I have had several extraordinary dining experiences there -- and this was no exception. Every time we've been there, we've been lucky enough to get the same waitress, Marcie. Always cheerful, courteous, and never pretentious, she has never failed to leave us in good spirits. Each time we went there, many months apart, she remembered us and she again greeted us like old friends. They had a special on the surf and turf, which consisted of lobster and a black angus tenderloin smothered in gorgonzola cheese -- a sublime meal! If you ever get the chance, I recommend it highly.

Some may say that I'm getting old, but I prefer to think that I'm maturing. Last year I would have wanted to party till dawn but work got in the way and instead I came home ready to go to bed shortly after the clock struck twelve. Okay, so I guess I felt pretty good on the first day of 1997 too, but it wasn't by choice. This year, however, I had no desire to drown myself in alcohol and suffer through the first day of the year with a hangover, despite the fact that I didn't have to worry about work. Besides, I had enough of that last week when I visited my parents and siblings in Phelps, for a late Christmas celebration.

New Year's Eve, in Wisconsin, is the only night of the year when the taverns can legally stay open all night long. Ever since I turned 18 (that was the drinking age then), I seized the chance to drink until the sun came up. It was a test of ones stamina and a great source of pride to do so. Even before I came of age, I took the opportunity to raid the liquor cabinet while my parents were out testing their stamina. I was reminded of that last week when my dad brought out the box of spirits that were packed away when we moved from Cudahy to Phelps in 1979. It was while sampling from those 20-year-old bottles that I reminisced of New Year's Eves past. And the next day, recollections of New Year's Days past pounded in my head.

New Year's Eve parties, with their glittery hats, horns, noise-makers, confetti, and a whole lot of yelling and screaming at midnight, was the last thing I wanted this year. Perhaps I am just getting old, but I enjoyed this year's moderated festivities as much as any New Year's Eve past -- that I remember anyway.

I don't know what 1998 holds in store for me. All I know for sure is that it is certain to be different than last year. That, and I won't be sampling any more of Dad's 20-year-old bottles.