October Is Breast Cancer Awareness Month
Female breast cancer incidence rates have been slowly increasing since the mid-2000s, largely driven by diagnoses of localized-stage and hormone receptor-positive disease.
Indiana has seen a lot of the weather that I like, mostly warm and sunny. It is not news to those who know me that I do not like winter. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I was recounting to someone my adventures in the winters of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where my hands and feet were frostbitten during my snow shoveling activities with my brother. I still remember my mother placing my frozen feet into a pan of cold water, and even today, when my hands get cold, blood does not circulate well in my fingers. I joke with my neighbors as I walk by in the heat of a day, saying that I will endure being hot, since I abhor being cold. And now, we are on the cusp of November, and the advent of winter.
I lived in California for 9 years before I moved to Indiana. I first lived in Southern Indiana, in New Albany, Clarksville and Jeffersonville. When I was living in Clarksville with my first bride and first daughter, my bride’s friend would visit with us, and we would chat about life. One year – it might have been 1979 – I heard that an enterprising group was building a ski resort at Paoli Peaks. The friend of the family got excited about that and invited me to go skiing with him.
“Doesn’t skiing need cold, snow and ice?” I asked him. “Yeah, of course,” he replied. I asked a sharp question of him: “Why would I do cold, snow and ice on purpose?” I pointed out to the man that there were places in Madera County California where the temperature got up to 120 degrees, and I did not mind one second of that. But he managed to convince me, and I learned to grab the crossbar that took skiers to the top of the rise, where I started on the bunny slope. It wasn’t long before my confidence outstripped my knowledge, and I almost plowed into the cabin. I was wet and cold – just as I predicted – and spent the rest of the evening in the lodge, drinking brandy.
November means winter, but it also means Veterans Day and Thanksgiving. I understand those celebrations, but I don’t get snow, cold and ice. I spent the better part of my young life walking to and from school – uphill both ways – and hoping that I did not fall while wearing my full-length leather coat. I imagined that the coat would act as a sled, and I would ski into oncoming traffic. But then: There’s turkey to be eaten in November. (I wonder if November bothers turkeys the way it bothers me?)
As I was quietly grumbling about November, I thought of all the songs about the more temperate months; “June Is Busting Out All over;” and “Born On The 4th Of July” There is “September;” by Earth, Wind & Fire, and there are songs about May from the bands Blue Oyster Cult, The Bee Gees and Arcade Fire. Of course, as I was lazily researching the songs about months, I found that GASP! There are at least 11 songs about my dreaded month of November. Thank you, Guns N’ Roses, Zach Bryan and SZA, Gorillaz, and Lila Drew. (Grumble.) Oh, well: Time marches on, and I cannot hold off the 11th month and its peek into the snow-covered days of winter.
Thanks for showing up, November.
cjon3acd@att.net