I’m already missing the recent past when the temperature and my age sometimes coincided (low seventies). I threw a tarp over collards, arugula, lettuce, and cilantro during the first frost, managed to prolong my garden’s life and thus, perhaps, my personal summer.
October does have its good points. The color of leaves, for one, and Adolph is on a tree-drawing binge. Halloween, for another, when skeletons, pirates, and witches stream down Shorewood streets. Then there’s Gallery Night and Day, the seasonal reminder that the Milwaukee art scene is very much alive. The fall Gallery Night is Halloween’s precursor. People stream down the streets, but don’t have to ring doorbells, don’t have to trick or treat. They walk into the galleries, grab a handful of chips or a few pistachios, and gaze at art.
It’s fascinating to grow old in the early 21st century. When I was young, we didn’t have a refrigerator, we had an icebox, cooled by a chunk of ice delivered to our kitchen. When I picked up the phone receiver, the operator said, “Number please.” We had to wind up our Victrola in order to listen to records (78s). A Model T Ford was stored in our back yard by a friend fighting in World War II. I was 11 when I first saw a television set.
I loved science fiction, Robert Heinlein, Philip Wylie, and other writers who pushed the limits of human imagination. I never thought I’d one day live in a sci fi world.