Maggie Beamguard
Editor, Seven Lakes Insider
2026. There it is. A new year. Six years since the pandemic. Twenty-six since Y2K. Two hundred and fifty since the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
That feels like a lot of history to drag into January. But here we are. I can’t help but wonder what this year might bring.
Every January, I convince myself that, with just enough grit and the right planner, I will emerge the following December as a more organized and hydrated version of myself.
We know how this goes. I have an embarrassingly tall stack of half-filled planners, abandoned at intervals ranging from week three to month four.
While recently cleaning out my home office, I found one such casualty of my good intentions. The cover of the planner confidently states: “2020 | A Year of Possibilities.” All I can say about that is, it wasn’t wrong.
Still, every year I fall for the idea that turning a calendar page will magically infuse me with enough individual drive to pull off that “new year, new you” challenge.
I’m wondering if the part I’m getting wrong about my approach is how much pressure I put on myself to be a main character pushing forward the plot. Maybe I’m not the lead. Maybe I embrace my role in the ensemble.
I’m pondering this after seeing a social media reel posted by @susiesecondhand that gave me a chuckle. Susie’s family throws an annual Love Actually themed holiday party.
For the uninitiated, the movie is a 2003 ensemble romantic comedy filled with famous British actors and plotlines that haven’t aged well. It is also whimsically entertaining, just don’t watch it with your children.
Back to the party. Instead of dressing as the stars of the film, guests came as minor characters and extras. One person arrived as “man in a pink scarf,” a character who crosses the frame of Alan Rickman multiple times when he is shopping.
When “man in pink scarf’s” moment arrived on the screen, the party guest reenacted the inconsequential role, pink scarf and all. It was good fun.
This reel landed with me because most of us are not Hugh Grant dancing through the halls of 10 Downing Street. We are the pink scarf guy.
My days are held together by people who don’t have headline roles, people without whom life would grind to a halt: The pharmacy tech who fills a prescription correctly; Mike, who knows my order when I walk into the 7 Lakes Pizza Kitchen; the stranger at the Shell station who points out a low tire; the vet at Pinehills who knows my pup by name; the voice on the other end of the line who graciously untangles the appointment mix-ups I definitely caused; the postal worker who delivers everything from my nephew’s wedding invitation to my daughter’s 18th birthday gift.
Then there are my coworkers who keep things moving. By the time this column reaches you, it will have been polished by my editor, a copy editor and a page designer — all who make me appear smarter than I actually am. The printer will churn out the copies, and a truck driver will deliver them.
I’m better off for each of them. My life is improved by each person who wanders into my frame. The part I tend to forget is that I’m that person in someone else’s frame.
Every day I have the chance to be the stranger opening the door, the person who keeps things light in a long line, or the background character who says one small line that lands big.
I have finally arrived at my resolution for 2026. I’m going for less independence and more connection. Now, where did I leave my pink scarf?
Contact Maggie Beamguard at maggie@thepilot.com.
