Another year gone by (almost – I decided to be the first kid on the block to send out my, now traditional, as in two years in a row, missive, with the anticipation that nothing worth mentioning will happen in the next month, just like in the previous eleven).

For a change, I didn’t need to get an MRI. Instead, I opted for a healthy dose of radiation from a CT scan. I highly recommend the mocha-flavored barium milk shake. (Over 50 years ago I had a summer job in a hospital x-ray department that gave me the opportunity to prepare barium enemas. Those were the days.)

Also back in the 70s, before CT scans became all the rage, I had a precursor EMI scan of my head, which, to quote Dizzy Dean when he had an x-ray of his head in 1934 after getting struck by a thrown ball, “revealed nothing.”

As a protest to the LIV Golf tour, this was my first year not striking a golf ball since before Saudi Arabia even had golf courses (they have 10 now).

I don’t miss it at all, and not having to clean my clubs has left me with more time to not clean other things as well, though I have made some upgrades to my humble abode, including increasing the number of remote controls to seven, that I’m aware of.

I replaced my piano with one that has functional pedals, one of which I’ve actually learned to use. I’m fairly certain that no one uses the middle sostenuto pedal, but the rule of three demands its presence.

I wrote the 6th edition of my arcane book (put your wallet away, it’s not yet on the market), which I believe is no worse than last all time in its category in regard to sales and which is now only 1299 print editions (and perhaps 200 million or so copies sold) behind A Tale of Two Cities, according to the WorldCat network of library content and services.

But, according to a friend of the author, Dickens’s music master gave up teaching him the piano, declaring: “He had no aptitude for music, and it was robbing his parents to continue giving him lessons.” So there!