In case you’ve been stranded in an automobile or languishing in a food coma since Christmas (possibly both), if you were on your way to a potluck with a backseat full of casseroles and cakes when you skidded off the road trying to reach a piece of wayward krumkake, I would like to remind you that it is January.

January…the Dakotas are beautiful this time of year. The snow, the wind, and enough days of below the donut temps to dash a young man’s dreams of basketball stardom. I’ll give him credit the, “I’m quitting basketball because I can’t take another winter wearing thin dress pants on a cold bus” was as good as any. As a caring and thoughtful older brother, I will not name names.

Thin dress pants in January in the Dakotas has been the foe of many a young boy and friend of the fathers of many a young girls in the company of those young boys.

January is when we start a new chapter or a new book if you really want to shake things up, forget the past and look delusionally towards the future.

Delusion that can only be fueled by cheap champagne, huffing silly string, and watching singers you don’t recognize sing songs you don’t know until the ball drops. During the “Dick Clark New Year’s Something or Other” I consistently didn’t know any of the stars and big wigs they paraded in front of the camera and my children grew tired of me asking, “Who’s that…why are they important… where is Dick Clark…that Ryan Seacrest fellow has thick hair…”

It is not my doing, it is the natural order of things for a parent, specifically the father, to know nothing about the musicians, stars, and big wigs their children find entertaining. I find I do not find them entertaining and most of the music makes my eyes twitch and my ears feel like they’re being penetrated by ice picks. Dull annoying ice picks that don’t really do any permanent harm but make you appreciate the work of mimes and silent clowns.

There’s so much of my children’s world that I don’t understand. The music, the television shows, the pants hanging low enough to make a plumber blush, the straight billed crooked hats, the constant head twitching to keep their swirly hair properly swirled. Teenagers are not to be understood they are to be observed and photographed. Photographed often so you have proof of their ridiculousness to hand over to your grandchildren when their parents are giving them a hard time about their appearance and behavior.

Resolutions? I resolve to be more tolerant of teenagers for they know not what they do. None of us did at that age…some of us don’t at this age.

I resolve to stop shaking my head in annoyance at the 27 inches of underwear being displayed by my future doctor, lawyer, senator, or son-in-law…that last one made me cringe a little. Instead, I will ogle, wink slyly and let them know how much I enjoy looking at young men’s underpants.

If I evade arrest long enough, I will be hailed a hero for getting young men to hitch their drawers. Larry King will come out of retirement to interview me, there will be a national holiday in my honor and “Hitch Your Drawers Day” will get all of us out of work the second Wednesday of January each and every year.

My only hope is that we are able to keep the true meaning of the day thriving without “Hitch Your Drawers” mattress and car sales cheapening the day. We don’t need another excuse to get six months same as cash, we need another excuse to celebrate all that is right and good in this world.

Hitch Your Drawers and Happy New Year.