Autumn

Right, I've got my Pooh Halloween Mug filled with strong, black coffee, I've got the Yankee Pumpkin Pie candles lit and the house has been suitably dressed up for the season with two boxes full of Halloween decorations (including a Halloween Wreath on the front door). The last remaining piece of Halloween Flair (a little Office Space humor there), Jules and I bought a pumpkin each yesterday and today Ol' Jack is scheduled for his operation. It's cold and misty out this morning and tomorrow threatens rain across this entire island. Yes, I'd say I'm ready to sit down and ponder Autumn.
Let's take things back to their beginnings, shall we. A little trip down Memory Lane seems indicated at this time of year. My earliest memories of Halloween really start when I was about 7 or 8, can't remember which, being so old now. That year, we were living in Anaheim on a very suburban street. Down the road and around the corner was the girl I was absolutely smitten with at the time, Jodie. Our families were quite friendly and it was decided that the kids would all Trick or Treat together, safety in numbers you know because that was the year when all the really ghoulish stories of razor blades in apples and poisoned candy became headline news. Hoaxes, as it turned out, but all the parents were in a dither, proclaiming that nothing like that happened in their day, and so on and so on. Didn't matter because it afforded me the chance to roam the neighborhood at night with the girl of my dreams being a nasty little shit without getting in trouble for it. Chuck in the fact that we would have loads of candy and chocolate and I think you can see why I fell in love with Halloween. That aside, I was always an introspective, moody child; Autumn just seemed like My Time. I was, and still am, drawn to ghost stories and demons, witches and wizards. My parents would take me to Disneyland and I would spend the majority of my time in New Orleans Square, bouncing between the Haunted Mansion and Pirates of the Caribbean. My parents would have to force me with threats to go on other rides and stay with the family. It just always seemed to me that in the Autumn, the air was cooler, the lights warmer and less glaring than Summer, people were less frivolous and more introspective. The bathing suits were stored in the closet and the sweaters came out. With the cool air rushing in and the warm air being pushed out, there was a chance of mist and fog. It was eerie and soothing at the same time, mystery and adventure seemed to hang heavy in that mist. Though SoCal didn't see dramatic changes of season, it could be felt easily. The air during the shorter days became crisp, like a granny smith apple.
Over the years, it became obvious to me which time of the year was mine. My life seemed richer and fuller during the Autumn and Winter. I tolerated Spring and Summer earned it's 4th place by being oppressive and glaring. The happiest times of my life always occured in the later half of each year. The Halloween night I spent riding bikes around Garden Grove with my best friend Mark in 8th grade. We rode around looking at people's decorations, laughing at the little kids still Trick or Treating while we were nearly men, talking and laughing about girls, considering such weighty subjects as would Cynthia let me kiss her, had Danny really "done it" like he said he had, were there real demons who would wait for midnight on Halloween to chase two foolish boys who had stayed out late through the deserted streets of suburbia, could we actually hear dead people talking if we went to a cemetery and sat really still, etc. That night was probably one of the best Halloweens I've ever known because, after I rode with Mark to his house and said good-bye, I still had a five mile bike ride home, through those same deserted, demon-infested streets alone. On the way home, I rode past a graveyard and stopped outside the locked gates to listen for dead people moaning. Sadly, all I heard was some breaking twigs and some ominous rustling of the nearby bushes and that was enough for me, I raced all the way home, sure there were ghosts seconds behind me. I rode with a smile the entire way.
The next big Halloween memory for me is going to Knott's Scary Farm's Halloween Haunt. I had begged and pleaded and promised an eternity of domestic servitude to my parents and they had finally, after years of this, paid for me and Mark to go. We spent hours roaming, unimpeded by parents, through the man-made fog near the Calico Mine ride, through the ghost town and all around the rest of the park. It was everything I'd imagined it would be. There were ghouls popping out from every angle, every windows dripped fake blood and cobwebs, every ride had been transformed to fit the season. The log ride featured some serious gore, obviously lessons in what not to do with a chainsaw. :) The Calico train ride became a ghost train, filled with live actors dressed for the part and scaring the living shit out of anyone foolish enough to enter. Ah, that night was better than sex, though I didn't know that at the time. :)
I think that's enough of a stroll down the creepy path leading off Memory Lane. It's time to set out the surgery kit for Jack's operation. His prognosis is not good.