For years I wondered why people celebrated the coming of a new year every Dec. 31. At first I didn't care. I was 16, and a party's a party.

Today I have an understanding. It's not the official word, and I didn't go to some book for it. It really came down from my father, whether he meant to pass it on or not.

So when I say, Have a Happy New Year, as I am doing now, please understand that I mean it. If you are the only reader who needs one in 2012, then I am wishing doubly for you.

As I came out of the party phase of my life, I started to wonder about celebrating the coming of a new year. One was as good as another, I thought.

Eventually I stopped celebrating. Sometimes I watched the Times Square ball drop on TV, simply because I was still awake.

Often I fell asleep before midnight and woke up in the new year. Then I started making the obligatory Happy New Year calls to family and friends. It all seemed shallow.

Then 1977 happened. In addition to this work, I did some small-scale farming with dad. I made a big mistake with a sweet corn crop and lost money, mostly dad's. And the asparagus crop was smaller than projected.

My self-worth tumbled. All I could see in the mirror was failure. I couldn't sleep at night, and I couldn't concentrate at my news desk.

Thankfully, dad caught me, late that summer, before I fell fully. I was out looking at that wormy, skimpy corn field when he drove up.

Dad noticed I didn't look well and asked why. When I said I couldn't sleep at night because of the loss, he said, "All of the money in the world isn't worth your health" and a few other kind words I never forget.

After a bit, dad said: "Go home, find a way to relax and go to sleep. Worry has never solved anything. Without a good sleep tonight, you can't solve your problems tomorrow."

I did. I found a way to relax. I slept, and I felt better the next day, ready to tackle life again. Still I didn't quite get over 1977 until that New Year's Eve.

Dad was president of the Mutualista Club, a civic organization in Granger that raised money for its charitable causes with Saturday night Mexican dances. The big dance was on Dec. 31, and he urged Pat and me to go.

"It will be good for you," he said.

I was reluctant, but Pat and I went. It was good.

Pat and I danced until midnight, and I really enjoyed the evening. When midnight came, friends and acquaintances, and some people I did not know, wished me a happy new year.

Whether they meant them or not, I felt as if they did. I took their words to heart and even shed a tear. I was extremely happy 1978 had arrived.

Believe me when I say I hope 2012 is filled with happiness, joy and prosperity for each and everyone of you