Happy New Year!

From the cozy warmth and comfort of our family room in the Midwest, my wife, daughters, and I vicariously celebrated the arrival of 2012 with no less than Dick Clark, Justin Bieber, Lady Gaga, and a million or so hale-and-hearty occupiers of New York City’s iconic Times Square.

While the nearly six ton Waterford Crystal Ball majestically dropped 77 feet during the final minute of 2011, the girls and I joined the choir of unison voices for the raucous countdown: 3-2-1! Happy New Year!

Time worked its magic. One second it’s 2011, and then in a blink, we were stepping across the threshold into a brand new year.

As the frenzy in Manhattan was mounting, I couldn’t help but feel a familiar stir of emotion. I’d been part of a Times Square New Year’s Eve crowd a couple of times when I was a much younger man.

I have experienced the excitement and the chaos of being crammed together on the street with friends and strangers impatiently waiting for the ball to drop. I know all-too-well the horrible parking, the sardine-packed subways, the no port-a-potties within eyeshot, and the usually cold, sometimes wet and messy NYC weather of late December and early January.

But you know what? I had a fantastic time anyway! Here I was, a kid from nowhere, in the middle of this massive, world-renowned party, smack dab in the heart of the Big Apple. At precisely midnight, mass revelry erupted, confetti filled the skies, and I had the license, and the sworn duty, to plant a big one on that year’s girl of my dreams - if I didn’t lose her in the teeming crowd!

This New Year’s celebration was no less thrilling for me, but for different reasons. Having lived with multiple myeloma for three years, I pay greater attention to the milestone moments that come my way. I don’t take them for granted anymore.

I don’t need a crystal ball to remind me that the invincibility of my youth has yielded to the sobering truth that time on this earth is not promised to me forever. My faith dictates to me that there is more after we depart these surrounds, but sooner or later, this party on terra firma will come to an end. We all know this intellectually, it’s grasping it emotionally that seems to give us fits. I’m rooting for later, by the way!

My fellow myeloma patients understand the power and the poignancy of just such an epiphany. We are dramatically reminded, through the up-and-down reality of our curious disease, that time is, indeed, one of the most precious gifts we have.

Of course, this truth holds for everyone; time waits for no man, as they say. We myeloma patients are just ultra sensitive to the clock ticking.

Leafing through my 2011 calendar the other day helped me to put into perspective just how I spent my time last year. It allowed me to reflect upon the special dates and events that marked the previous twelve months and to see the timeline of those tough episodes in my myeloma battle. But mostly it helped me to put 2011 to bed. It’s over. It’s done. There’s no going back. It’s time to look forward.

My pristine 2012 calendar is a symbol of a new beginning for me. It’s an opportunity to get a fresh start. I delude myself into thinking that until I start filling in the boxes, my days are proverbially unclaimed; wide open; anything can happen. For a fleeting moment, I can disconnect myself from the overwhelming commitments of life.

And then I begin the exercise of starting to pencil in the kids’ basketball games, ballet recitals, speaking engagements, production deadlines, recording sessions, school concerts, the church services, the countless meetings, and all of the other stuff that will commandeer my time and attention through the coming year.

Then, of course, I have to add the blood tests, the every Wednesday chemotherapy treatments, the trips back to Arkansas for check-ups, and all of the other things I have to do to keep my myeloma in check. That’s when I start to hear my clock ticking like Big Ben!

You all know the drill. Your calendars and appointment books fill up as fast as mine does.

Do I wish that I could have penciled in New Year’s Eve in New York at the end of last year’s calendar? Why not? Not sure that my weakened bones could survive the mad crush, but I’d love to give it a shot. There are lots of places I ‘d like to visit and lots of things I’d still like to do, but any sadness that I feel for not being able to do those things right now, is tempered by one important fact:

Today I am alive. And for this I am profoundly grateful.

As the band broke into Auld Lang Syne this New Year’s Eve, I was reminded that not all of my old myeloma acquaintances were afforded an opportunity to greet 2012. I will carry their memories, their friendships, and their resolve forward with me. And just as they have shown me, I will choose to live boldly, with joy and with laughter in the time that remains for me.

I am grateful for the Herculean efforts of the legions of people around the world who have dedicated their talents, their resources, and, yes, their time, to the fight the good fight against multiple myeloma.

Happy New Year! May 2012 be a banner year for all of us!

And don’t be surprised if you see me in Times Square at the next New Year’s Eve, planting a big one on the girl of my dreams!