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Those New Year's Resolutions Are Easy To Make, Easy To Break

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By JERRY LOFSTROM

Columnist

Published: January 15, 2009

PLANT CITY - There are things that endure that are measured in hundreds of years.

Other things last long enough to be measured in decades.

Then there are concepts that can be measured in days, such as New Year's resolutions.

Now that we're two weeks into January, it's safe to admit that my New Year's resolutions have already fallen apart.

For many, the new year starts with a hug and a kiss from family and friends, leaving last year's stress and problems behind. We sing that song no one knows the words to and we greet the coming year with hope — a resolution — to be better to ourselves and to others.

But you'd think that after countless years of people making New Year's resolutions, the world would be a far better place. Doesn't it make sense that if people went through a yearly upgrade, the oldest among us would be pretty close to perfection by now, and the youngsters should be showing signs of improvement?

Yet, few things illustrate our fallen nature more than New Year's resolutions. Each year, with the best of intentions, we promise that this year we're really going to keep our promises. But sure enough, before long, some temptation comes along that's just too alluring and there goes another year of resolutions.

I know. I've been there.

That got me thinking that maybe the best suited to make our New Year's resolutions may not be us, but the person who knows us best, someone who may have a more realistic point of view on what we need to do to improve as a person.

Although we might resolve to help the wife with the laundry and keep the house clean, maybe our spouse might think our time would be better spent if we just did the dishes.

So instead of allowing ourselves to resolve to get that big promotion at work this year, maybe our fellow workers might resolve that we show up on time for a change.

We might resolve to buy a magnificent anniversary gift for our spouse, but our spouse might resolve that we show that consideration each day of the year.

This year, the Lofstrom family celebrated the new year in the frozen tundra of Minnesota, where we've seen resolutions come and go through the years.

The only person in the family more serious about New Year's resolutions than me is my sister Carolyn. We approach it differently, though. She writes hers down, and they're usually funny. I don't, and mine aren't.

On New Year's Eve, she'll haul out a long list of changes she resolves to make in order to lose weight. Every year, she'll resolve to change the same things. With a twinkle in her eye, she promises to improve next year.

I spend time preparing mine, too, but I don't write them down, that's too dangerous.

If you tell people you are going to lose weight, how can you ever feast on a meal with your friends?

"How's that weight-loss resolution going?" they'll ask as your fork melts into a creamy slice of cheesecake. Nobody wants that kind of embarrassment.

OK, I'll tell you what my 2009 resolutions were: First, no sweets or rich food until I've lost 20 pounds; second, no more beer; and third, be nicer to others.

Jan. 1 got off to a good start. For breakfast, I had whole-grain Raisin Bran with bananas and skim milk, plus vitamin supplements.

Later that day, we went to my sister's son and daughter-in-law's home. They're pretty health-conscious, so I figured keeping my resolutions would be a snap.

The table had a grand spread of carrots and baked zucchini sticks, with nonfat yogurt dip. The host approached me, asking what I'd like to drink.

"Have any juice?" I asked.

"No, it all went last night, would you like some red wine, beer or eggnog with rum?"

I took the beer. An ultra-light beer, though.

After my scrimpy breakfast, I was starved. Wandering over to the hors d'oeuvres, I began talking to my nephew about Minnesota Viking football, a passion of mine. Without thinking, I devoured four or five carrots and a few zucchini sticks dipped in yogurt.

Then, it dawned on me — those weren't carrots, they were cheddar cheese fingers! And the sticks weren't zucchini, they were fried mozzarella. The nonfat yogurt — onion dip made with sour cream.

My wife, Marti, came over, and there I was, encrusted in cheese and sour cream, the ghastly sight of fatty foods dripping down my chin and onion dip on my breath with a beer in my hand.

She laughed, "I thought you'd given up beer and rich foods?"

"Hush, don't you think I know that?" I snapped.

Oh no, I'd done it. Within one day of making them, I had broken three New Year's resolutions without even trying.

And that's why I don't write them down.

Correspondent Jerry Lofstrom can be reached at jdlmcl@aol.com.

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