Friday, October 1, 2010

My bro', Oct.

He's the best-known Ober, by far, but he's a modest chap, doesn't let it go to his head (already pumpkin-sized), not even the joke that among the months he's a 10. Just does his benevolent thing. Good with colors: stays inside the lines, mostly. Likes a good mystery. Genial disguiser (fond of scarecrows), heavy lifter, taking summer on his shoulders and carrying it to the foothills of winter. Friend of September and November, who don't so much get along with each other. Knock-kneed, bandy-legged, hobo impresario, especially outdoor ensembles of homemade instruments playing jazz and old blues. We're proud to have him in the family.

I started this blog a year ago, on the 13th, so I missed the beginning of the month. In fact, it was because of an event at beginning of the month that I had the time to start the blog. It was on 10/1 last year that I got laid off (odd phrase—like a mistranslated expletive) from the company I'd worked at for a good chunk of my life. So the anniversary hangs over the day like a kind of comet. Hello up there.

We remember other historic events (in 1869 today, Austria issued the first postcards; in 1940, the Pennsylvania Turnpike opened), so why not personal ones? The summons to the Spaulding Room, knowing I was about to be expelled from school because the textbooks were too expensive. The following week of slow leavetaking, wearing the new normal with exhilaration and numbness. And gradually, over the months, with the help of this blog and time cauterizing, cooling, carrying on, the event becomes what it is a year later: my private comet, crossing my orbit like all anniversaries do.

So, Oct. Walk with you to Halloween?

1 comment:

  1. I remember when you were planning to write a novel, you said you wanted the main character to be like turning a corner and running into your best self.

    Sounds like you've turned that corner, scout!