At midnight tonight (actually at 11:00 p.m., Central Time), a large glistening ball will descend into Times Square in New York. A hundred thousand people will be there, probably blue from the cold, but they won’t be in pain because they will have been sedating themselves with hot toddies from their thermoses for hours before the ball drops. They may not even notice it’s midnight.

When the ball reaches the ground, everyone will scream and shout, then start dancing, hugging, and congratulating each other.

But for what? For having survived the year 2013? That’s not an achievement calling for congratulations. If some reveler accomplished a notable feat during the year, congratulations would have been called for at the time, but that was a while back. Why will everyone celebrate and congratulate each other tonight? It beats me.

Apart from the new calendar on the wall and the incidence of dull headaches tomorrow morning, the world will likely be much the same tomorrow as it is today.

About those dull headaches. I don’t drink nowadays, though I drank enough during the first half of my life to count for a whole lifetime. Back then, I thought I was having such a good time that a headache the next day would be worth it. But it never was. Why did I keep doing that for so many years?

Even during my drinking days, though, I couldn’t see the point of New Year’s Eve and especially of New Year’s Eve parties. If I wanted to drink, I drank. I didn’t need a party to give me a reason.

New Year’s Eve parties were always boring. For one thing, I was expected to stay up until midnight, which was past my bedtime. Even sober, I felt draggy long before the clock struck 12. Then there was the food. Several hours of talking nonsense with other drunks while stuffing myself with heavy hors d’oeuvres left me feeling like a sick walrus. And of course there was the headache to look forward to the next day. So, long before I got sober, I stopped accepting invitations to New Year’s Eve parties.

And why begin the year on Jan. 1, anyway? It’s an artificial date. It has something to do with the winter equinox, I think, when the days begin growing longer again. But that actually happens on December 21, so if the equinox is the key thing, we begin our year 11 days late.

Other people start their year at other times. The Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, occurs in early fall. The date varies a bit since it depends on the lunar calendar rather than the solar calendar. Next year it will be on Sept. 24.

The Chinese New Year is on Jan. 31. The Aztecs began their year on March 12.

And then there are the Muslims. Theirs is a truly challenging calendar. The Muslim New Year begins two weeks earlier every year. In 2013, it began on Nov. 5; in 2014, it will begin on Oct. 25. How they keep track of time that way beats me, but it apparently works for them.

If it were up to me, I’d start the year on the Opening Day of the baseball season.

Then there are those New Year’s resolutions. People usually resolve to do purposefully and resolutely something they should have been doing all along. Like eat a healthier diet. Or drink less. Or exercise every day. Or stop smoking. But if those things are worth doing, why wait until Jan. 1 to start doing them? Why not start today?

In every culture I know of, a new year is a time of hope. And maybe that’s the point of it. Yes, the date is arbitrary, but there’s something good about saying, “Let’s let bygones be bygones. Let’s put the past behind and turn a new leaf. We can do better, and we resolve to do it!”

That part of New Year could be a good thing, but New Year’s Eve parties? Good Lord, deliver me!

Richard H. Schmidt is a retired Episcopal priest, editor and author who lives in Fairhope. He can be reached at courier@gulfcoastnewspapers.com.