Deborah Coddington: Swings high and low in a year of much drama

For the first time, we columnists have a holiday next Sunday so this is my last column for the year. And what a dramatic year it has been - swinging wildly from the terrible disaster of the Christchurch earthquakes to the excitement of winning the Rugby World Cup.

First, let me counter some misconceptions from last week's column. I'm no liberal nor libertarian, so won't be involved in any ersatz Act Party. I'd pass laws to throw people in jail who text as they walk in the street and slurp from water bottles. I'd ban fascinators, maxi dresses and women who shriek. Jail would be mandatory for retailers who ignore elderly customers, anyone who treats superannuitants like morons or doesn't stand when they enter the room.

In fact, I'm thinking of starting a Respect Party. Members must dress smartly, remember their manners (including at the table), speak clearly and respect opposing points of view. Twisted bloggers need not apply.

Jesting aside, 2011 has been gruelling. On February 22, Christchurch city was hit by a 6.3-magnitude earthquake, and 181 people died. Ten months on, the community is still battling to rebuild and, on Christmas Day, 181 faces won't be there to celebrate with their families.

But out of that horror emerged heroic stories - the young man who shielded his aunt, the Farmy Army, the Student Army and journalist Jane Bowron's humorous diary of "Old Bucky".

New Zealanders demonstrated how generously they could give, even in difficult financial times.

A couple of us in Martinborough organised a mini-market, with baking, flowers, preserves, fresh produce and recycled clothing. This population of 1200, in one Saturday morning, raised $7000 for Christchurch Red Cross.

Nonetheless, the deep grief undoubtedly continues for those left behind.

So what have I learned this year? Personally, I've had to come to terms with the hardest sadness I've ever faced, so I've learned to swallow my grief.

I've also watched Mother, made in 1921, sink into dementia.

Instead of taking a little grandchild around my garden, I lead my shuffling mama by the hand, feed her my strawberries and show her my roses.

And working alone from home, I've learned to enjoy Facebook. It enables me to connect with an extraordinarily eclectic bunch of people (a close friend unkindly accused me of picking up all the strays).

Initially, I checked out everyone who asked to be my friend, but now I just accept everyone who asks, since I'm neither rich (if wannabe friends are thinking of hacking my bank accounts) nor famous (if they're seeking access to glitzy events they'll be disappointed - I turn down all invitations).

The beauty of Facebook, to me, is it's one place I can have an argument or discussion about politics or social issues with someone I've never met, and we can vehemently disagree, but it doesn't turn personal or nasty.

So what's on my Santa list?

One, that Justice Minister Judith Collins urgently pass the Financial Markets Bill which increases the maximum jail term for white-collar criminals to 10 years. John Banks moaned about unemployed South Auckland Maori and Pasifika youth robbing the good citizens of Epsom, but he should look at some of his own constituents, sitting in jail or on home detention for ripping millions of dollars off investors.

Nonetheless, the penalties are not yet tough enough.

And please, Santa, I've been very good this year so can we keep the television programme Backbenchers? It's the only political show where we see politicians in a relaxed and rowdy atmosphere, virtually unrehearsed, and the host, Wallace Chapman, is one of the sharpest knives in the political canteen of cutlery. I know money's tight, but can't we lose one of those wretched cooking shows? I'm tired of being ordered to buy expensive organic stuff from markets and beat the crap out of paua.

Still, it's better than bashing children, something this country has proved, in 2011, it's still great at. Sadly, Santa can't fix that and though I love Christmas, every year I always think of those children for whom the festive season is anything but.

On that note, remember who was born and have a Merry Christmas.