. . . which isn’t that hard to do after summer. When we finally get a break from the heat and humidity, when you can open up the house and let 
the breeze blow through, when going out into the full sun doesn’t melt your hair, that’s when I feel best. I smile more. I give the benefit of the doubt. Some might say it’s because of where I live (in Houston) or used to live (in Florida) but that isn’t true. I loved fall best as long as I can remember growing up in Pennsylvania.
Fall means the best food, football, Halloween, festivals, Homecoming, relishing the time outside then appreciating the warmth inside. To me the trees look more impressive, the light is warmer, the wind changes from one of those guys with hair hanging in his eyes and sweater sleeves down past his thumbs to the Marlboro Man or the Brawny Paper Towel guy, good looking but rough around the edges and not someone to be discounted.
The fall used to mean new TV shows, new clothes, going back to school and seeing all your friends and school/office supplies (pens, mechanical pencils, markers, the works!). Although I don’t watch TV shows and I haven’t gotten a new mechanical pencil in years, Autumn is till a source of joy. And, I get things done in Autumn. I go out to get the paper in the morning and decide to refinish my deck or replace that tile or at least clean off my workbench. Spring cleaning doesn’t hold a candle to a fall cleanout. If there are a few shirts or a belt that Linda has been trying to get me to get rid of – fall is when she makes her move because in fall I am a man of action.
One of my favorite childhood memories was one fall, I was probably 13-14. My dad had taught me to play golf a few years earlier (which was no easy feat) and I had finally gotten to the point where we could play together like a couple of guys instead of the master and his noob. We belonged to a club, it was often crowded and schedules didn’t always permit us to play together. But, on this fall day we didn’t even see another group the whole round. The wind was blowing pretty good, the leaves on the trees had peaked in color and were beginning to blow off. We walked the course, we could have taken a cart but we both wanted to walk. It was just him and me. We talked the whole time, but I don’t remember what about. There was the usual competitive banter, the stuff guys say to other guys that may sound a little cruel on the surface but clearly says “we are men and we are having fun together”. Mostly we played golf together.
By the time we were done, we were chilled to the bone, our faces were red with windburn. We showered in the locker room then went in the steam bath. The feeling was incredible the kind of thing that can still give me Goosebumps. It was so good we went back in the shower then back in the steam bath. Some other guys came and went through the locker room, a few were playing cards and smoking cigars. We were hanging out at the club together. One conversation I do remember; there was a guy who seemed to always be at the club, they called him “Peanuts Gilbert”, his last name was Gilbert. I asked dad why they called him Peanuts, . . . and he told me. We didn’t usually have conversations like that. We had a good laugh, got dressed in our warm clean clothes, went to the bar and ordered a couple of sandwiches, ate them and drove home. I can’t really do the memory justice, it is one of those things where you had to be there. Even then, I don’t know if it left as big an impression on my dad as it did on me, I doubt that it did, but it is one of my fondest memories and is part of what fall means to me.
The picture above was many years later, but it was another fabulous golfing adventure I had with my dad in Myrtle Beach and it was . . . . you guess it, in the fall.