I don’t like New Year’s Eve. But I do like ritual. So I manage to get through the former by indulging in the latter. Each Dec. 31, I write down all the “resentments” that I would like to shed and toss them into the fire before midnight, hoping that their turning to ash will prevent them from coming with me into the new year. (Once, in Paris, with no easy access to a fireplace, I ripped my list into confetti and scattered it over the dark waters of the Seine.) Over the years, my list has evolved to include more things I dislike about myself than quibbles about others. But there are some regulars who always find themselves in the fire: mostly people who use politics or religion or corporate power (or all three) to advance selfish and unjust agendas. You know who you are. Another ritual I love comes from my friend Nick and his family: I jump off the couch at midnight into the new year, leaving the old one, well, on the couch, I guess.