On Play and Possibility: Part I
Buying New Year’s Fireworks in Hilo, HI - Going Be Like Christmas, Only Loudah
[Editor’s Note: To finish up 2020, JDK is doing a two-part final My Sunday Post for the year. Part II will be posted midweek, just in time to send this year packing]
December 27, 2020
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When I was a young kid, on one night of the year I got to stay up as long as I wanted. One night a year, I ran amuck largely unsupervised all night. One night a year, I ate and drank whatever and whenever I wanted. One night a year, I was allowed to set off explosives to my heart’s content.
All on the same night. New Year’s Eve.
This wasn’t the annual run-of-the-mill “Auld Lang Syne” NYE party, or a small in-home party where everyone drank too much, watched Dick Clark from six time zones away, or wondered in silent dread if they’d have anyone to kiss at midnight. No…
This was a NYE party in Hawaii.
And NO ONE does New Year’s parties better than they do in Hawaii.
I’m not talking about parties in posh resorts or in downtown Honolulu – I’m talking about those in normal neighborhoods among everyday people, starting in family homes that often spill out into entire neighborhoods once things really get going.
Ones that start New Year’s Eve morning and continue deep into the evening on New Year’s Day. Ones that involve as much talking and visiting and connecting among its participants as they do drinking and eating and reveling. Though there is plenty of all of that - once it starts, it doesn’t stop for two days.
And Ones that once you experience them, they become a part of you. They become the Gold Standard.
This isn’t just because the entire celebration takes the energy scale of one to ten up to Eleven, but because its power is driven by what’s underneath; New Year’s in Hawaii inspires. It excites. It activates mind, soul, and senses unlike any other holiday celebration I’ve ever been a part of, all while reinforcing the importance of Play and Possibility in our everyday lives.
Let me give you a better sense of it.
New Year’s is the center of the Hawaiian party calendar. People plan and save for it all year - the location, what they will put on the tables and in the plastic cups, and who will attend. The invite list is always pretty loose, always open for more to join anytime. It’s casual dress, as it always is in Hawaii. People bring food and drink to share, too, so from when the party starts on New Year’s Eve morning, the tables fill up all day with food from more and more cultures - a veritable world market of foods from Hawaii (tons of dishes with Spam), Japan (sashimi and teriyaki / sukiyaki anything), China (buckets of Lo Mein and Kung Pao), Korea (Kalbi short ribs), the Philippines (adobos and manapua), all regions of the United States, and more.
And, without fail, someone brings a bucket of KFC chicken. Original Recipe. Always.
Total party cop out, by the way.
Whoever’s house is the party’s home base gets a full makeover before and after - tents go up outside, long tables and metal chairs get set up everywhere, lined garbage cans for trash and empty beer cans (Primo, Olympia, and Miller Lite were favs in Hawaii then) in every corner, and inside all the furniture gets moved around to accommodate the most people and to leave space for lots of mingling and stumbling. Most importantly, areas of the yard and driveway and street get cleared to be the safety zones for blasting fireworks all day and night.
Because, oh, the fireworks. It’s insane.
Unlike most American states today where you can’t buy them at all anymore, fireworks in Hawaii are available everywhere leading up to New Year’s - stands set up in parking lots, endcaps in drug stores, and even in restaurants. From the snaps that pop when they’re thrown on the ground to Roman candles and giant explosive rockets, you can find any firework imaginable in Hawaii. People bring them to the party to share, along with food and drink, and the result is….pandemonium, really.
I mean it. Take the most raucous Fourth of July celebration in any given American neighborhood that still allows fireworks and multiply it by about fifty – it’s that intense, that loud, that chaotic, and that FUN. By the end of New Year’s Day, yards and streets and driveways are covered in the multicolored char of exploded fireworks wrappers, interspersed with blasted stains of soot and burn marks from those explosions that were particularly good or went particularly awry.
Or both.
As a kid, I got swept up in the excitement for New Year’s more than just about any other holiday - including Christmas. I didn’t understand why then - at least not beyond the I Get To Do Whatever I Want For A Night - but I do now. And, I only figured this out a few days ago.
It’s because on New Year’s, all I did was Play.
Unfettered, uncontained, and unapologetic. I Played. And yes, I use the capital P for a reason. We all should - because Play should be fundamental to our Life. And it wasn’t in mine for far too long.
As anyone who has followed this site or my podcast knows, I was quite the sensitive and serious kid. I had a tough time in school with bullies, was very careful with whom I built friendships, and could often have a hard time just relaxing and having fun. Being a pastor’s kid had some weight to it as well - just part of the how it can feel to be one, really. Holidays like Christmas and Easter held differing levels of excitement for me, yet there was always a busyness to them in my house because they were big work days for my dad and mom.
But New Year’s wasn’t a religious holiday like those, so for me it was just a day of fun. And for my parents, too.
A day to Play.
And I did so with gusto, leaving everything behind for one day and night: expectations, fears, competitions and responsibilities. My best friend growing up, Matt, usually had the New Year’s party at his house and that meant his dad and mom would go all out on fireworks, food, and hospitality. Which meant that Matt and I, his brother, Bo, and our mutual friend, Sean, would be allowed to run around like crazy all night, throwing firecrackers at each other (not wise) and drinking one soda after another which meant far more caffeine and sugar than we were usually allowed to consume in a month (always wise). The four of us came unglued that night, laughing the entire time and making memories that we still talk about to this day (we just reminisced about it on a Zoom call not too long ago).
[Editor’s Note: We should take a moment here to bow down and give thanks to whoever runs Zoom for keeping us upright in 2020. If it wasn’t for them, we’d all be in the New Dark Ages by now. Kudos to you, Zoom, for saving what’s left of civilization as we know it.]
And our parents just let us cut loose. Pretty much the only rule was No Making Anyone Bleed.
And off we went, into a night of adventures and fun lit up by fireworks and laughter and good food. It’s about as perfect as Play gets for a kid. It also helped cement friendships that have lasted into adulthood, still providing me with joy in the present and in connection to the past.
Play - especially that kind - fills up the proverbial “piggy bank” of our most important relationships with “funds” to draw upon in more difficult times. Depositing funds via Play Pal thus helps sustain and strengthen the relationship further when those tough moments have to be worked through, and it leaves some funds left over. Other things can fill that bank, too: Love, Affection, Service, etc., but Play brings down walls and shows others our true selves more naturally - or at least more easily - than most other sources. Play fills up the bank faster. It’s honestly that simple.
But I didn’t really understand that until, as I said earlier, a few days ago after a conversation with my therapist. It was a breakthrough that came about after months of work around other topics that ended up being more about Play than I think she or I had realized.
Namely, that I struggled with initiating Play as a kid and hence continued to do so as an adult, especially in my most important relationships. And this, to put it frankly, had hurt those relationships significantly.
It kicked off a series of “a-ha” moments that were equal parts liberating and sobering. As I checked in these realizations with friends, I heard similar things over and over: “Yeah, you always seem to need to be ‘on’ all the time,” one said. Another commented that the closer I get to people, the more serious and anxious I seem to become. Yet another said that Play seemed to happen with me “by accident,” and that I didn’t take time to intentionally seek it out. And one even told me that this had been a major sticking point between the two of us for years - that I simply did not know how to Play, to lighten up, to relax and enjoy. It had left this person holding a Burden of Me far too often, and it had significantly affected and limited us.
It was tough to hear. But it’s all true.
Even though there have been many times I’ve Played in my life, they almost always have been initiated by other people - not by me. It was true with my aforementioned Hawaii friends, and has far too often been the case with friends since - including the Goofsome Foursome of me, Seth, Evan, and O’tee (RIP, my brother. I miss you - and your laughter -so much) from my camp / college and Ever Since years. Same thing with my graduate school friends, some of the best people and Play Masters I know.
I’m still actively processing this and certainly finding an exception here and there, but they are ones that prove the rule. So, it’s a glass both half-empty and half-full - I know how to Play, just not how to initiate it very well.
The good news though, is that now I know that. And I started applying the lessons right away.
Even though Covid made this Christmas Eve a solo one for me, it might have been the best I’ve ever had because I intentionally made it so.
I Played - three types of sugary cereals to start off the day; a viewing of my favorite holiday movie of all time, The Empire Strikes Back (just go with me here, okay? It starts on a snow planet. Leave me alone); a triathlon training ride and a run through my lovely neighborhood on a beautiful day, with everyone giving best wishes along the route; a final scouting mission for Eggnog that took four store visits to complete victoriously; collecting all my favorite “I Don’t Dare Eat This Crap The Rest Of The Year” foods; a really fun Zoom call with my family, then followed it up with phone conversations with some of the most important members of my Family of Choice (these were the friends who gave me feedback, and I started to plan Play with them - things to do in the new year once it is safe. They were thrilled, and so was I); I prayed and meditated in candlelight, listened to the carols that mean the most to me, took a long bath that left me smelling like roses (way too potent Bath Bomb), then capped off the night with a Wendy’s Frosty as I built a small Lego set in my pajamas with Elf on in the background.
Boom. That was Play. And I did it all on purpose. It might be the best gift I’ve given myself in years. I didn’t do all that to COPE with the holiday, but to make it FUN and meaningful on my own terms. The only difference was my attitude and motivation behind it. And, significantly, the emotional result.
I not only had more fun, but I felt more connected with everyone I talked with that night than I had in a long time. And more connected to myself.
There’s a larger meaning in that for me, and for any of us, as we head into a new year that we all pray will be far better than the one we are leaving behind.
Call it the “Power of Play” (not Power Play - that’s hockey. [Editor’s Note: Go Kraken!]).
Play is a powerful tonic against the Power of Overscheduling. And the Power of Workaholism. And the Power of Avoidance. And the Power of Overthinking. And the Power of Self-Sabotage. And the Power of Overreaction. And the Power of Pessimism. And the Power of Intellectual Straightjackets. And the Power of Religiosity. And the Power of Addiction. And the Power of Worry About the Future. And the Power of Self-Loathing and Self-Harm. And….
I bet you can add more to that list.
Play has been proven to be powerful beyond measure, especially for kids. Intentional Play that is as unstructured and free as can be. It’s where kids figure out socialization amidst creativity, learn to embrace their unique gifts, and their likes and dislikes. It’s where they learn to speak up for, and discover, themselves. It’s where they begin to become distinct human beings, and where - significantly - their parents don’t really need to be too involved.
You know - like on New Year’s in Hawaii. The only rule is No Making Anyone Bleed.
(See what I did there?)
Good food, good drink, good company, and good fireworks. All amongst people we know and trust and love. Putting vital funds into so many piggy banks.
That’s “Good Fun” as they say in Hawaii.
Sounds like “Good Life” to me.
A Life that opens up so much Possibility - the other Power that defeats so many Others.
I’ll pick up Possibility in Part II. In the meantime, let’s start planning Good Fun for 2021. My list is already getting long….so book your time with me soon.
I’m Playing. I’ll call you.
Chins Up, Everyone.
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Thanks for reading My Sunday Post. Here are important updates on some other parts of my week:
Soul Book of the Week: The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
Book On My Nightstand: The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen
Best Show / Movie I Watched: Mr. Jones
Best Meal I Cooked: Prime Rib with Red Wine Sauce, Au Gratin Potatoes, and Garlic Wilted Spinach
Strongest Ear Worm Song: As Tragic by John Craigie
Best Gift I Got for Christmas: A full-size Baby Yoda (thanks, Mom and Dad!). Yes, I Am Seven.
Longest Run / Ride of the Week: 6.5 mile run and 27 mile ride (Thursday)
Winner of Crunch Berries vs. Apple Jacks vs. Fruity Pebbles Cereal Contest: Fruity Pebbles
Most Memorable Holiday Food: Swedish Meatballs - my grandfather’s recipe. I cannot stop myself.
Best Generosity Moment Witnessed: A family paying for an elderly man’s groceries. He cried.
