A new year is about to dawn. Many of us will resolve to do better in the coming year than we’ve done in the year that’s about to fade away forever.

We’ll resolve to eat better, to exercise more, to be kinder, to enjoy life, to quit smoking/chewing/vaping or anything else that harms our body, lose weight, get a better job … sheesh!

I long ago made a new year’s resolution of a different sort. I resolved to make no such resolution.

Over the years I’ve made my share of them. I cannot recall ever fulfilling a single resolution. They all fell short. It’s my fault. I lack the discipline to see a resolution through to completion. Except that by declining to make a resolution to usher in the new year I can guarantee a certain level of success. I know that’s perverse, but it’s the truth.

Don’t misunderstand me. I am light years away from perfect. I am packing too much weight. I don’t get enough sleep each night. I get a bit grouchy at times. Some readers of this blog think I am misguided politically.

I celebrated a landmark birthday the other day. I turned 70 years of age. I find it strange in the extreme to think about my age. Dad didn’t live to see 60; Mom died at 61. They never got old. I’m already there, although I am blessed with good — if not great — health.

Therein lies what might constitute something of a resolution, which is to resolve to keep doing the things that have given me 70 years of good health.

The rest of it should take care of itself … I hope.