“I’m so glad that I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn’t it?” — L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables.
Inexorably, the months march around and around through our lives. As one ages, instead of slowing down as one might wish, time speeds up. Surely Easter was only a couple of months ago, and they’re already pushing Christmas before Halloween. I see that the Kroger store already has snowman and Santa items. “Cluck, cluck, cluck!” quoth the old hen. Don’t they realize that this early commercialism dulls the excitement of anticipation?
Oh dear, I’ve strayed from my topic. The thing is, the brains of elders are so crammed with memory and experience that one thought leads to another.
Bonnie, one of the Knightstown Keeslings, wrote many years ago, “I enjoy your columns because they help us remember.” Figuring that my readers don’t remember my words from year to year any better than I do, I’m going to repeat some of the things I’ve written before.
I am you, and you are me. The emotional and physical geography of the towns where we grew up has a big impact on us. I rarely go to Knightstown, but memories of the town, its people and events are bound up together like a skein of soft, fuzzy yarn that is wrapped around my heart to keep it warm during the winter of my years.
From the time I was a child, October has been the best month of my years, next to December . . . Oh! Oh! Oh! I must stop and watch the sunrise. October has the best sunrises and sunsets. Yesterday’s sunrise encompassed 360 degrees. That master painter, the sun, tinted the eastern clouds tangerine, then pink, then gold. The clouds to the West, North, and South were lavender. Such beauty for the price of merely looking out the window! How rich we are!
From the window above my desk, I can see the yellow leaves of our tulip tree in the back yard. Out front, the leaves of our splendid oak are turning, and the gum tree is clad in glorious gold.
The leaves of autumn trigger many memories. When Wanda Frazier and I were about nine and seven we gathered “bouquets” of the prettiest leaves on our way to school to give to our teachers. After school we’d rake leaves into piles along Carey St., jump in them and then set them on fire. (Yes, our mothers let us use matches!) The town fathers sponsored a costume party in the gym. High school brought hayrides and wiener roasts.
Fast forward to the happiest day of my life: Bill and I were married on October 25. Our destination honeymoon of four days was at the King’s Crown Inn in Kokomo, the wedding gift of his brother and sister-in-law. Then along came Vicki. Next to Christmas, Halloween was her favorite time because of the horde of candy she collected and the prize money that she won at the Irvington Halloween Festival. Fast forward again, and the grandboys went to the festival and returned with fake spiders to hide in the cabinet drawers . . . so long ago, long ago . . .
Ah, the peace of a simple day: A few years ago, we drove to the Shades on our anniversary. It was a perfect October day in the October time of our life. We toasted each other with cheap Chianti and sat companionably, munching our picnic lunch. During a walk, I rested on a stump. Fifty feet above me, the three o’clock sun gleamed on the autumn leaves of a virgin tree so that it looked as if a net of golden lace had been tossed across its topmost boughs.
Bill went on ahead, but at trail’s end he was waiting for me as he always has. wclarke@comcast.net