A year in rebuke.

For all the invincibility that people transfer to me, because I'm tall, blue-eyed, a nominally white and successful male, I cry a lot this time of year. 

I suppose I always have.

Or at least I have for the last 50 years or so.

Some of that is because my birthday is coming up. 

Some of that is because the end of the year is coming--a year has passed--and I've always reflected, and spent a lot of time reflecting on, my many faults, failures and shortcomings. 

All the ways I've fucked up.

All the stupid things I said.

All the ways I let my family and loved ones down.

All the ways I've failed clients.

Didn't grab the bull by the horns.

Turned left rather than right.

And didn't seize the carp.

Maybe that's specifically a Jewish thing. During the holiest day of Judaism, even non-believers like myself are made to reflect. The liturgy demands that we think about the year gone by. I'm not a learned man, but I'd go so far as to say, 6,000 years of tradition demands that we beat our breasts and punish ourselves for myriad reasons.

The Al Chet (which sounds like the name of a sportscaster covering local college football) is recited ten times during Yom Kippur. It's a crescendo to the year. But somehow they run it repeatedly, like ten Superbowl halftime shows. 

It goes like this. (I've edited Hayden, Wall and Simpson. Today I edit God.)

For the sin which we have committed before You under duress or willingly.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by hard-heartedness.

For the sin which we have committed before You inadvertently.

And for the sin which we have committed before You with an utterance of the lips.

For the sin which we have committed before You with immorality.

And for the sin which we have committed before You openly or secretly.

For the sin which we have committed before You with knowledge and with deceit.

And for the sin which we have committed before You through speech.

For the sin which we have committed before You by deceiving a fellow human.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by improper thoughts.

For the sin which we have committed before You by a gathering of lewdness.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by verbal [insincere] confession.

For the sin which we have committed before You by disrespect for parents and teachers.

And for the sin which we have committed before You intentionally or unintentionally.

For the sin which we have committed before You by using coercion.

For the sin which we have committed before You by impurity of  speech.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by foolish talk.

For the sin which we have committed before You with the evil inclination.

And for the sin which we have committed before You knowingly or unknowingly.

For the sin which we have committed before You by false denial and lying.

For the sin which we have committed before You by scoffing.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by evil talk  [about another].

For the sin which we have committed before You in business dealings. 

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a haughty demeanor. 

For the sin which we have committed before You by the prattle of our lips. 

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a glance of the eye.

For the sin which we have committed before You with proud looks.

And for the sin which we have committed before You with impudence.

And for the sin which we have committed before You in passing judgment.

For all these, God of pardon, pardon us, forgive us, atone for us. 

The Al Chet goes on and on.

I gave you the Miranda Rights version.

And so does my self-flagellation loop and loop.

My failures as a human.

My failures as a husband, father, friend, agency, boss.

My failures in all I've done.

My failures in making the money I wanted to make.

My failures in building my business as I wanted to.

My failures in taking clients who didn't deserve me because I wanted the money.

My failures in turning business down because I wasn't sure I could do it.

This is how I end my year.

With sweat, as always, but mixed heavily with tears.

I always cry at the end.

It's emotional.