“Roll back the rug everybody, move all the tables and chairs, we’re going to have us a party…”
Luther Vandross sang it, gave us the perfect picture of a household—our household, all of us in a way—where joy is welcome, and you know exactly how the grown folks move: a table in the corner holding that last domino: "6-4 never..." was heard loud and stern, someone yelling about a card game foul: "She reneged!", and maybe a little haze of smoke in the corner from the “unofficial” smokers’ section. The faces may change, but the vibe is always the same. It’s tradition. We can almost see those uncles and aunties, cousins, and best friends, ahem, family. And every time the calendar resets, we lean into these comforts once again. New Year’s? Resolutions? The well wishes arrive in droves—same words, new spin, half the time. And I'm not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s just the way we rock.
I’m reminded of a conversation with my Uncle Sonny, may he rest in peace. He said, “Mack Rod, you just gotta keep on living until you don’t.” Simple enough, but to me it’s exactly what drives us to gather. We keep on living by embracing joy, blasting Vandross, and re-creating these little home traditions. We fill the space with well-worn resolutions, hearty laughs, and lots of “how you been, baby?” And yet, it all ends up feeling a bit too routine sometimes. Kinda like we’re on autopilot, cycling through the same old greetings and the same old toasts.
That’s why I wanted to offer something different this time around. Maybe we can break from the usual script of “happy new year,” “new year, new me,” and all that other. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking positivity, not in the least. But let’s try on a slightly deeper conversation: discernment.
See, discernment is knowing what’s for you and what isn’t—quickly, confidently, and without second-guessing. It’s more than identifying what fits your life; it’s acting on it, making choices that align with what you truly need. Doesn’t harm anybody else. It just means you’re finally putting yourself in position to benefit first, so you can offer more to everyone else.
Think about the plane-oxygen analogy: (Read: what the stewardess is telling while you're being prepped for flight): if you don’t slip your own mask on first, you’re no help to others, not even your child.
That’s how I see discernment. It’s not selfish—it’s strategic, sensible. It says, “I see what’s going on. I know what’s calling my name, and I know what’s not. And I’m going to do what’s best for me and mine.” The moment you shift into that mode, everything else—every tradition, every party, every well-worn phrase about new beginnings—gains real meaning.
Of course, traditions matter. They remind us that we belong somewhere. Rolling up the rug and dancing with cousins, trading the same jokes, the same spades hands—those are the cultural stitches that keep us together. But the next time you raise a glass at that New Year’s “get-together,” maybe pass on the surface-level toast and share something like, “Here’s to recognizing what’s ours—and acting on it.” That’s not just a resolution or a rote greeting. That’s a promise to live with purpose.
Indeed, keep the Lutha within reach, shuffle cards that can skip you, skip you, skip you, skip you, draw four, or somehow find themselves in "Boston!", and post in the kitchen for the food, the A.RO.Ma, but also because you know it's where the real conversations are. Soul Food twice and leftovers if you want them. Keep that tradition strong. But while you’re at it, sprinkle in some discernment about what you really want to carry with you into this next season—who you want around and why, what you’re determined to build, and when you need to walk away for your own peace.
“You just gotta keep on living until you don’t.” I hear you, Unc, loud a clear and in your voice. Let me add something, that something being discernment. I hope this for you as I do for myself because I understand that if you live with discernment, you’ll find yourself leaning into more honest joy, deeper connections, and fewer regrets. Traditions aren’t going anywhere, and neither is folk’s way of doing things. The difference is, now you’re a bit more intentional about how you show up in those moments, whose hands you’re slapping, and whose domino call you’re cheering on. Um, who made the potato salad?
Tradition plus discernment equals living well on purpose. Pass the cards, turn up Lufa, and celebrate like you mean it. Feel me? One Love
-Smirk
