October Road
I love the month of October. It's the first full autumnal month and the palette of fall is one of my favorites - rich scarlets, russets, oranges, and golds. I love the leaves crunching underfoot, the scent of wood burning from fireplaces in the air, and the feel of the cool breeze flirting with my hair. It is a feast for the senses. October is what I think of when I remember going to high school football games as a child with my mom and my grandmother. I remember being bundled into sweaters and mittens, steaming cups of hot chocolate, and the Somerset High School marching band. My uncle was a football coach there and I spent many a weekend watching the games, the parades, and dreaming of the day when I could be a drum major. I had lofty aspirations as a 3 year old. I wanted to be a flag twirler; then for a short time I wanted to be part of the color guard, but the guns kind of freaked me out (even though they were fake); then a majorette; then finally I realized the drum major had all the power. After that, my career path was settled. I even practiced. On a trip to Florida with my mom, my grandmother, my great-grandmother (Ma), and my great-aunt (Aunt Mary), I would instruct Aunt Mary as to the appropriate way to march. Bless her soul, she let me. Even when I intentionally let her walk into walls. It was my job to tell her when to start and when to stop. She would giggle with me when I would neglect the stopping part. I wanted to be a drum major for maybe a couple of more months until the age of four when I decided I wanted to be a secretary, but Aunt Mary and I had fun while it lasted.
I love the month of October. It's the first full autumnal month and the palette of fall is one of my favorites - rich scarlets, russets, oranges, and golds. I love the leaves crunching underfoot, the scent of wood burning from fireplaces in the air, and the feel of the cool breeze flirting with my hair. It is a feast for the senses. October is what I think of when I remember going to high school football games as a child with my mom and my grandmother. I remember being bundled into sweaters and mittens, steaming cups of hot chocolate, and the Somerset High School marching band. My uncle was a football coach there and I spent many a weekend watching the games, the parades, and dreaming of the day when I could be a drum major. I had lofty aspirations as a 3 year old. I wanted to be a flag twirler; then for a short time I wanted to be part of the color guard, but the guns kind of freaked me out (even though they were fake); then a majorette; then finally I realized the drum major had all the power. After that, my career path was settled. I even practiced. On a trip to Florida with my mom, my grandmother, my great-grandmother (Ma), and my great-aunt (Aunt Mary), I would instruct Aunt Mary as to the appropriate way to march. Bless her soul, she let me. Even when I intentionally let her walk into walls. It was my job to tell her when to start and when to stop. She would giggle with me when I would neglect the stopping part. I wanted to be a drum major for maybe a couple of more months until the age of four when I decided I wanted to be a secretary, but Aunt Mary and I had fun while it lasted.
2 comments :
I remember that trip to Florida, too!! Aunt Mary was a riot, she would always make you laugh! Remember we would go get ice cream at the hotel restaurant in the evening. Great memories!!
Love,
Mom
I remember parts of the trip - like the ice cream and the marching with Aunt Mary. It was good ice cream too.
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