By James Brigham

The last dance is always a slow dance. The band delivers those notes ever so slowly and holds them long. Standing eye to eye, hand clasped in hand, shoes shuffle slowly across the floor. A slow dance is almost prayer-like, memories of the past mix with hopes of the future, a swell of feelings that all is good, all of what we are, all of what we do, is right.

Tonight we’ll ring out the old year while wishing each other the happiest of a New Year.

Lately, these days, these days of a slack economy, these days feel like a slow dance. So slowly that music plays, producing a slow-motion movie out of our real lives. In high definition, we’ve watched every job lost, one by one, two by two, till they added up to 8 million, each loss has its own sad story.

Early on in this, those stories existed only in the newspapers or the six o’clock news; now they’ve entered our neighbor’s house or are playing in prime time in our own living rooms.

The entire year has been rough; paying bills on time has turned to be a challenge. We’re better off than some. Two homes have foreclosed on our street, one family disappeared in the night, the other I last saw in a U-Haul, heading north on College. I wonder where you go, when you have lost everything. I have a new respect for people in that world. I pray for the families that when this is over they are still a family.

By the end of the month, I pretty much have what you have: a mortgage payment, phone, gas and light bills, a car that needs repair, a yard that needs attention. I don’t believe we are all that different. At this point, I feel safe to say that we are all a bit nervous.

The stresses it puts on our every decision – is that toothpaste cheaper than the other? Can we really afford to take time off to go visit mom?

This economy is making us more similar, more like each other and teaching us a

few things along the way.

It’s taught me a few things: how to do with less, how to pinch that penny. My most important lesson learned from this is the love and understanding of my spouse, family and friends. I thank this slack economy for that, for opening my eyes to what’s really important in life. That love, her love, is my most precious possession. The things we used to depend on no longer can support us. But that love gets me through each day and gives me great hope for tomorrow.

So if you’ve been dancing that same slow dance, when you’re dancing the last dance tonight, whether in your living room or a ballroom, hold her tight, eye to eye, hand in hand. Think of all that is truly important and thank her for dancing this dance of your life.

My hope is that we are on the way out of these sorry days and that I am starting this new year stronger, with this newfound wealth. I hope the same for you.

Happy New Year.

James Brigham lives in High Point.