The news is grim, sometimes painful. No longer is it relaxing to plop into an easy chair with the newspaper on our lap.
Television news feasts on tragedies, bringing apocalyptic events unwanted to our home screen daily. Our world is a messy place.
I wrote as a catharsis for all of us. I hope it helps brighten our worldly perspective, at least for a little while
Autumn
Who remembers Jack Frost? Our autumnal hero is depicted as a bright, pixyish little boy wearing coveralls with a white painter’s hat adorning his blond Dutch-boy hairdo.
Every autumn, Jack carries his magical pot of paint and his special paint brush from which all colors emerge with a single swipe. His job is painting leaves every a
utumn. It is the annual kaleidoscope of his handiwork that makes me appreciate this time of year. The brown leaf of the mighty aak tree, the reds of the maple and the yellow of the ash all blend with the shimmering gold of the poplars and mountain aspens to create a tapestry of delight reflected on the hillsides of our town. Eye candy, for sure.
The air feels cooler. Distant horizons, formally opaque by summer’s humidity are viewed in sharp relief reminding me “I can see clearly now.”
There is no better time of the year than “Indian summer,” those halcyon days of brilliant sunshine and cool evenings.
“Brisk” re-enters our vocabulary. We sleep better. We cheer football rivalries, and we shuffle our shoes through leaf-laden trails through the woods.
Relieved parents see their little darlings “demons?” riding the schools bus again. On the day preceding All Saints Day, children disguised as ghosts prowl the land demanding trick or treat.
I remember way back in my beloved Bronx of the ‘40s, when my sister Barbara demanded a trick or treat. The man behind the apartment door squirted her with a Clarabel seltzer bottle through the peak-hole and yelled “Trick!”
Black cats and witches and goblins roam the evening beneath the yellow hunter’s moon. And Jack o’Lanterns glow fiercely in the dark.
Black and gold, black and gold, nothing in between
When the world turns black and gold, we know it’s Halloween.
We recall the Pilgrims’ arrival on the Mayflower and the hardship of their fledgling colony in the New World. We count our blessings and share our table with family and friends.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. We savor the scent of roasting chestnuts that emanates from those ubiquitous carts with the yellow-and-blue umbrellas in Midtown.
Central Park becomes the setting for the annual iconic parade supplied by Mr. Macy. Each year, thousands rise and leave home at an ungodly hour to secure a choice location and watch their kids wonder wide-eyed at the parade of enormous balloons floating overhead and the colorful floats passing at eye level.
Santa Claus with his reindeer bring up the tail end of every parade to remind us it is time to prepare for the wintry season that follows. Snow, shovels, skis. Sleds, sleigh bells and hot chocolate are on their way.
The snowbirds embark on their trip to Florida for their annual winter tan and we are reminded once again that, with all its problems, it is, indeed, a wonderful world.
John Klumpp
Sparta