My family didn't celebrate New Year's Eve with much enthusiasm or flash. No parties or dances or hoopla. We watched the Orange Bowl Parade on television, and if we were motivated, we stayed up until midnight. Usually we didn't make it that far!
When I spent my junior year of college at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland, I discovered how amazing New Year's Eve could be.
I didn't have money to fly home for the Christmas vacation, so I stayed in the UK and my parents sent my sister across to spend Christmas with me (as her high school graduation present). She returned to the US before New Year's, and then I went to stay with a good friend in Bridge of Weir, near Glasgow. Two other friends joined me there, and another friend from St. Andrews lived in the same town, so we had a nice group to celebrate with.
The evening began with a lovely meal at my friend's house. After that, we walked over to her schoolmate's house to spend the hours remaining until midnight. We received a warm welcome there, and the family treated us to a little concert of chamber music which they performed for us! Yes, there I sat, entranced to be included in such a wonderful musical moment. One of the boys had arranged the music for his family, and each person played a different string instrument, and I thought that this was a brilliant way to celebrate the new year. (I also promised myself that if I ever had children, they would learn how to play musical instruments and then we could have musical evenings like that!)
As it turned out, the evening was only getting started. We adjourned into the front hall of the house (which was a good-sized house and had an ample entryway) and commenced Scottish country dancing. I was delighted. By this time in my stay at St. Andrews, I had developed a great interest in and fondness for Scottish country dancing, and took every opportunity to attend ceilidhs (social evenings featuring the dancing). To be dancing in a friend's front hall at midnight on New Year's Eve seemed an unimaginable present.
Then the doorbell rang.
Some of you may have heard of the Scottish tradition of first-footing at the new year. Scots believe that the first person to cross your threshold after midnight influences your fortune in the coming year. If this person is a woman, or a redhead of either sex, your new year isn't going to be very lucky. If, however, your first footer is a tall, dark man, things could go very well for you in the months ahead. My friend's father opened the door and in stepped a fine, tall, dark-haired young man, so the new year was secure. We resumed dancing.
At this point, I thought a Scottish new year's celebration was pretty darn good. It even had a name, Hogmanay. My friends and I were having a grand time, and it was already nearly 1 AM. This was heady stuff for me.
Suddenly, the dancing ended and we bundled ourselves up in our coats and headed out the door. Once we walked out to the street, I could hear bagpipes playing nearby. Sure enough, up the street came a piper, followed by a small crowd of people. Oh, goody, a parade, thought I. We fell in behind the piper and walked along the street. Soon we stopped at a house, and the piper led us inside. Clearly there was a party here, too. I remember meeting quite a few of my friend's neighbors and quaffing some nice whisky (Scotch) and nibbling some tasty tidbits. After a short while, the piper gathered us up and led us out to the street again.
To the best of my recollection (which is dimmed by the number of years that have passed and not the amount of Scotch consumed that night), we stopped at three other homes during the course of our 'first-footing parade'. We never stayed too long at any one house, and we had lovely breaks of fresh air between visits as we marched along. We might have even been singing some traditional Scottish songs at various points as well.
It was all quite magical and full of fun and good spirits. No fireworks that I recall. No incapacitating or obnoxious drunkenness. No huge masses of people making streets impassable. Just a small town's first-footing parties, with a piper to lead the way. Who wouldn't be charmed by such an evening?
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