Vin Brocki: Blogging

Every year likes to pretend it’s just a collection of days. 2025 made it clear it also had opinions, many of them outrageous. It often spoke loudly, and with no interest in being fact-checked.

The political climate felt less like a functioning democracy and more like a reality show fueled by anger, greed, and unlimited hits on social media. The noise never stopped and the volume knob snapped off sometime around March. By then, truth and falsehood were sharing the same wardrobe.

Meanwhile, on a more personal channel, December arrived with a reminder that the heart is not just a metaphor. Mine decided it deserved its own subplot—complete with surgery, fluorescent lighting, and a team of professionals who spoke calmly about working on internal parts I’d been using unsupervised for decades.

There’s a special clarity that comes with heart surgery. Your world narrows to breathing, healing, and the unsettling mystery of hospital food. Everything else—the constant noise, the outrage, the online arguments nobody wins—fades into the background, where it belongs.

Which brings me back to the state of things out there.

If 2025 taught us anything politically, it’s that chaos does not require permission. It will arrive early, overstay its welcome, and demand to be taken seriously. Yet, somehow, life continues. People walk dogs. Coffee still tastes like coffee. And in the middle of all that noise, there were quiet acts of decency that didn’t trend—but mattered greatly.

Hope, it turns out, doesn’t make grand entrances. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t wear merch. Hope shows up quietly, like a nurse checking on a heart monitor at 3 a.m., or a friend checking in without asking for details. It’s subtle. Unflashy. Stubborn.

As I look toward the year ahead, I’m not wishing for perfection. I’m aiming lower. Fewer headlines that spike my blood pressure. More moments that slow it down. Less arguing with algorithms. More listening to people who respect the human condition.

If the past year proved anything, it’s that we are far more fragile—and far more resilient—than we give ourselves credit for. Hearts heal. Laughter sneaks in. And even after a year that felt like it ran on emergency power, the lights are still on.

So here’s to the year ahead: may it be calmer, kinder, and just boring enough to feel like a gift.

Vin Brocki, Erie, PA, USA

December 27, 2025