The History of New Year's Celebrations Part 2

Here is Part 2 of the article that appeared in the Lorain Journal around the end of December, 1969. It's an interesting look at the history of the New Year's holiday.

****

New Year's Eve: It's Mankind's Oldest Holiday - Part 2

By M. J. Wilson

(Newsweek Feature Service)

One of the first customs to be observed in the young United States was the New Year's tradition of calling on friends. George and Martha Washington held an open house every year that the capital was in Philadelphia, and one of the first social affairs in the White House was John and Abigail Adams's New Year reception in 1800.

Almost the only traditions still observed are noise-making and drinking, but the Danes have added a curious fillip to the celebrations. They "blow" the new year in, or, more appropriately, smash it in.

The cool thing to do is save up all of your old broken pottery and dishware. Then, on the stroke of 12, you run around to all your friends' houses and pelt the front doors with crockery.

Except for highway accidents and occasional eye injuries caused by popping corks, New Year's has never been particularly dangerous. The most common affliction is the hangover, for which – though mankind has been tippling for thousands of years – no one has yet devised a remedy.

There are nearly as many putative cures, however, as there are people who drink. The Japanese walk around wearing gauze surgical masks soaked in sake. Haitians take revenge on demon rum itself, by sticking 12 black-headed pins into the cork in the bottle.

THE ONLY PROVEN method is that old favorite, the "hair of the dog" – another drink. Or two. Or three, possibly leading to another good toot and even worse hangover.

But it's all part of the New Year's game, as is another – peculiarly American – custom devised by the capitalistic economy to mesmerize the bleary-eyed on the morning and afternoon after. 

Future social historians will record that on New Year's Day in 20th-century America, no one visited anyone. No one felt compelled even to speak. They rolled out of bed, turned on their television sets and paid silent obeisance to a ritual of 22 armored giants chasing each other around a football field.