Summit Wellness: Five More Minutes... a New Years Wish

By Summit FM Contributor Marc Lee Shannon

A few years ago, I wrote a column for the Devil Strip, a monthly local arts and community magazine, about the New Year, which was right around the corner. I pondered what to write about and chose "New Year, New Frames." Little did I know that the next year would have so much dynamic and dramatic change. It was December 2019.  

Fast-forward to today, December 17, 2024. I am looking at the preview of another year through the new calendar pages in the shiny, glossy end-of-year "Thanks for your Business!" calendar that my insurance company sent me. So, as I stand on the threshold of 2025, a pivotal question echoes in my mind: what do I want?  

What. Do. I. Want? 

Let's have a look back at the highlights of my year: 

I released another LP recording of songs with a group of guys called My Other Brothers, and it's a good record. Still, like most locally produced independent records, it was well received but quickly forgotten to make room for someone else's local independent record, and then the next, and the next, and so on.  

Sigh.  

I got married, and my wife and I, Kimina, found a later-in-life love that has a warm, special glow. Just when I thought I would be happy spending the rest of my days in my tiny house in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, the universe or God or whatever is driving this blue and green orb-shaped bus surprised us with a kind of happiness that we thought was beyond reach. This unexpected love story is a testament to the fact that it's never too late to find happiness. Whenever I see her walk in the door, I am tempted to say: "Are you sure you have the right house?" She's tall, blonde, and definitely Italian. She laughs uniquely and frequently, smiling and shaking her head at me with her arms akimbo. I love her so much.  

It was also a year of loss. Some friendships moved on (and some were rocky but salvaged). My wife lost both of her senior dogs in quick succession. The house we live in seems too quiet some days, even with three adults in a tiny late 50 Heslop home intended for a post-war mom and dad with 2.5 kids as a starter home.  

My mom finally and mercifully was released from the grips of dementia two months after my older sister Marta fell asleep on her easy chair and did not wake up. The cancer in her lungs was no match for this tough ex-Youngstown native, and she fought a brave and good fight. It hurts, and I miss them both.  

Some days, I catch myself wishing for those five more minutes when we all want to say the things and ask the questions we remember when it's too late.  

Looking back on '24, other things were sudden and surprising. I broke the fourth Metacarpal bone in my left hand, a disaster for a right-handed guitar player, and had surgery. Not playing or working out, swinging a 60-lb kettlebell for two months, made me an entertaining guy to be around—just ask my wife. 

Still, I feel lucky after all the loss, injury, and ups and downs. I am, for the most part, able-bodied. I can walk when and where I want, see clearly, breathe deeply, and do what I please. It's not lost on me that these simple things are unavailable to some who would remind me to be grateful. I am mostly solvent, and like most semi-successful working artists these days, I made a little bit of money on a lot of different things. I got by just fine.  

I have food to eat, a car to get around, clean clothes to wear, and a warm house in the chill of the Ohio winter. I have friends to call when I need help. After celebrating 10 years of recovery from alcohol use disorder, I am now more able to say, "Please, help me."  I have the life I always wanted.  

So, what do I want for the new year of 2025? Well, this time of year, when we are drawn to traditions and memories of holidays in the past, I am filled with the memories of kitchen smells, holiday twinkle sights, and whispers and sounds of the people who are no longer walking this earth. Humans I loved and cherished. So, it's straightforward for me. What I want more than anything in the new year is: 

I want the people I love to stay.  

Stay with me on this earth; stay with me for another moment, month, or year so that I can wrap my arms around what matters more than anything this material world can offer: love, family, and friends.  

Just stay a little longer, please—five more minutes. I promise to remember to say how I feel and ask that question I might forget. 

Happy New Year to one and all.  Stay Standing and Steady On.