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 Time
passes, December comes, and we turn to the last page of our calendars.
Then it's time to think about the next big turning point, which is a whole
new calendar. There are so many options to choose from. Calendar selection
is influenced by practical factors such as overall dimensions, readability
and space for writing notes in the squares. My primary consideration,
however, tends to be whether I like the pictures.
I
seldom buy calendars, though the stores offer choices to suit a variety of
interests. There are calendars featuring dogs, cats, songbirds,
butterflies, eagles, horses, tigers, flowers, sunsets, angels, recipes,
cartoons, singers, actors, cars, motorcycles and world records, but I
usually don't see anything that particularly appeals to me for a year’s
use. Some of the collections have too much the same mood throughout, and
the themes are often too narrow for my liking. I'd get tired of looking at
a dolphin or a teddy bear for a whole month, every month.
 Besides,
when December came this year, I already had half a dozen free calendars
for 2001, and I've been given a couple more since then. I’m sure that
will be enough, although family Christmas gatherings sometimes include
mutual attempts to give away our extras.
Even
with plans to dispose of some, I realized I had enough for a different
calendar in every room. Until then I hadn't thought of putting one in the
bathroom. Usually when I wash my face and brush my teeth I'm more
concerned with minutes than with days.
 My
habit has been to keep daily records, such as appointments, on a primary
calendar and save those from year to year. A few auxiliary calendars serve
as household artwork and for reference.
Any
other sets of months lying around on shelves or in drawers are probably
there because I wasn't ready to part with some of the pictures yet. For
example, I found a Sierra Club calendar with a few pages missing. One
month of looking at those must have been enough, but the other pages,
especially the fall leaves on the ground at Funk's Grove and the
photograph of the Platte River in Nebraska, are a more permanent part of
my collection.
I've
used calendars from a variety of sources, such as businesses and
charitable organizations. The themes reflect the activities of family and
friends as much as my own interests. For example, my eclectic collection
represents the Grundy County Soil and Water Conservation District (when my
parents lived there), a greeting card company, the National Arbor Day
Foundation, Caterpillar, and my orthodontist (no, the calendar didn't have
pictures of teeth).
 One
year recently I had a calendar with an unusual layout for the days and
weeks. Instead of extending horizontally across the page, each week was in
a vertical column. I guess I got used to it by the end of the year, but
the next calendar from that company went back to the traditional pattern.
It
didn't take long this year to decide which donated calendars to keep. One
fits a kitchen wall space, and the daily squares are convenient to write
in, so that takes care of my practical calendar. When I first paged
through, I wasn't too excited about the pictures, but I liked them better
from August on, and September is a winner, with trees at sunrise. I think
the others will grow on me, and it may take the entire month of June to
figure out what that picture is all about.
To
avoid having an excess of time squares, I’ll probably say goodbye to the
calendar with a monkey frog for August and to the lilies of the valley for
May. The dozen or so waterfalls will need to find a different home as
well.
 I
did select a calendar for outdoor scenery by my desk. Looking ahead, there
will be special treats for my eyes in June, July, September, October and
November.
I
often like the photos for the fall months the best. If I'm annoyed with
any of the artistic choices, it's usually when there's a tropical scene in
the middle of winter or when there’s a photo that just looks like —
well, a calendar picture.
Whatever
adds color and imagery to my calendar, I want to be able to look at it for
a month and still feel a little reluctant to turn the page. Twelve of
those make a good set, no matter what year it is.
[Mary
Krallmann]
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