By Andrew Caulfield
Although I don't consider myself unduly superstitious, I will admit to feeling uneasy as the clock strikes midnight on New Year's Eve. In my defense, I grew up in an area where it was considered essential, for some unfathomable reason, that the first person through the door after midnight should be a tall, dark-haired man carrying a lump of coal. I am therefore not immune to wondering whether each New Year is going to be better or worse than its predecessor.
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