T I D I N G S    O F   J O Y Folks, Yankee Pot Roast is calling it a year. In 2003, we had many good times and only a few bad. We made many new friends and some enemies, too. We thank all our readers, all our writers, all our grinchy critics. To all, friend and foe, we say May All Your Bah Humbugs Be Little Ones. Y.P.R. will return in 2004, bigger, better, stronger, wiser. In the meantime, while we're busy with latkes and egg nog, we leave you with "May You Always," a sappy little poem written by Harry Harrison, a disc jockey who spent over 40 years on New York's airwaves before retiring earlier this year: MAY YOU ALWAYS As holiday bells ring out the old year, and sweethearts kiss, And cold hands touch and warm each other against the year ahead May I wish you not the biggest and best of life, But the small pleasures that make living worthwhile. Sometime during the new year, to keep your heart in practice, May you do someone a secret good deed and not get caught at it May you find a little island of time to read that book and write that letter And to visit that lonely friend on the other side of town May your next do-it-yourself project not look like you did it yourself May the poor relatives you helped support remember you when they win the lottery May your best card tricks win admiring gasps and your worst puns. Admiring groans May all those who told you so, refrain from saying "I told you so." May all the predictions you've made for your first born's future come true May just half of those optimistic predictions that your high school annual      made for you come true In a time of sink or swim, may you find that you can walk to shore before      you call the lifeguard May you keep at least one ideal you can pass along to your kids. For a change, some rainy day, when you are a few minutes late May your train or bus be waiting for you May you accidentally overhear someone saying something nice about you If you run into an old school chum May you both remember each other's names for introductions If you order your steak medium rare, may it be so And if you're on a diet May someone tell you "You've lost a little weight," without knowing      you're on a diet. May that long and lonely night be brightened by the telephone call that       you've been waiting for When you reach into the coin slot, may you find the coin that you lost       on your last wrong number When you trip and fall, may there be no one watching to laugh at you       or feel sorry for you And sometime soon may you be waved to by a celebrity Wagged at by a puppy Run to by a happy child And counted on by someone you love More than this, no one can wish you. Why? What? Whoa.