For many of us, New Year's Day is full of promise. We promise to diet, exercise, pay off credit cards, and to advance professionally in the year ahead. Some promises are kept, at least for a month or two. Then it's back to being ourselves and, as in the case of spending, we charge ahead.

Our year-end thoughts also transport us into the past as we become contemplative, and review both our accomplishments and shortfalls, and those of others whose lives we have touched. Like a class reunion seen through one-way glass I recently searched the Internet for friends I grew up with, particularly those with somewhat uncommon names, easier to track down. I wondered, was the grass that much greener on their side of the fence? Do I saunter in the right direction as years pass?

In grade school "David" was the teacher's pet, and deserved to be. He was likeable, athletic, polite, and turned his homework in on time, after helping others who struggled with theirs. As his father was a successful lawyer, I figured he too, would enter law, perhaps to represent the little guy, the have-nots, with his generous heart.

On the contrary, his law firm's website credits David with "successes in litigating on behalf of chemical companies in toxic exposure cases." It highlights a case David won on behalf of a large company sued by an employee, a carpenter, exposed to arsenic in the sawdust of their product that he claimed caused his neurological and liver damage. David...What a guy.

"Cynthia" liked to ride on the back of my mini-bike in sixth grade, which gave me, and other boys, the (false) impression that she liked me. She was cute and perky, but bossy, and always got her way. In her 20's, she bleached her hair, changed her name, and became a professional wrestler. At 48 years old it appears she still "competes." I viewed four of her matches on YouTube. While feisty as ever, she stands at just over 5-feet, and, according to the ring announcer, weighs in at a mere 108 pounds. Although an off-beat career choice, her battles seem less harmful than David's, especially if rehearsed.

And then there's "Russel." He was a hyper, competitive kid who loved attention, even if it meant throwing a rock through the grade school music room window to get it. Perhaps it was that incident that circuitously led him to becoming an award-winning oboe player on an easy-listening label, in Auckland, New Zealand.

A rich corporate lawyer, a diminutive wrestler, and a mellow musician. While I am none of these things, I am not envious either. There is the promise of a new year, and of the grass on my side of the fence getting greener still.

Steve Shay may be contacted at steves@robinsonnews.com.