When October Goes…

About a dozen years ago (maybe more) Barry Manilow—yes, the same singer/entertainer known as “the schlockmeister” to many people—was going through some of the boxes of papers from the famed lyricist Johnny Mercer’s estate. As the story goes, Manilow came upon some words that Mercer (the legendary Oscar-winner from the 1940s and 1950s) had never published. Barry loved the simple, evocative poem, and immediately he asked the Mercer family if he could set those previously buried lyrics to music. They readily agreed and thus an unusual collaboration between a deceased word-spinner, and the composer of more 1970s classic pop classics than anyone else, came to be.

I discovered the Mercer/Manilow song long ago, and have always relished the words. Here are the words that Manilow set to music:

When October Goes…

And when October goes
The snow begins to fly
Above the smokey roofs
I watch the planes go by

The children running home
Beneath a twilight sky
Oh, for the fun of them
When I was one of them

And when October goes
The same old dream appears
And you are in my arms
To share the happy years
I turn my head away
To hide the helpless tears
Oh how I hate to see October go

I should be over it now I know
It doesn't matter much
How old I grow
I hate to see October go

Besides the haunting melody and bittersweet words, I have always loved the song because October has always been my favorite month of the year.

Yes, my birthday is in October, but that is not really why my heart goes out to October.
I remember my friend Shelley (friends since Gamble Junior High!) and I always targeted October 1 as the first day since early spring when we would wear sweaters (interesting how we actually set a date for that inauguration!) It is one of those random memories that just reminds one of the innocence of youth.

October is also when our trees in the mid-west and mid-Atlantic states and New England trot out the finest, most stunning colors imaginable. My best memories of those changing leaves are from the exquisite colors seen on the trees at Denison, my undergraduate alma mater, and then the vivid oranges, reds, and golds seen in walks in Tarrytown and Central Park in Manhattan. As a testament to those autumnal glories, when two of my new friends spent their Eid break returning to the U.S. last month, both asked me what I would like them to bring from America, and offered to bring certain foods or magazines, I sighed, and said, “what I really would like is evidence of Fall—bring me back a couple of the changing leaves.” Both friends did, and it gave me nostalgic blanket for the examples of what October always looks like to me.

Of course, to someone who really likes life at a lower temperature than most, I especially thrill to those first chilly mornings that invigorate me, and allow me to spend a few months not sweating all the time. I remember those cloudless, blue skies in North Carolina in October that now compare to the cloudless, blue skies in Jordan (of course about 25 degrees or so warmer here!)

I have taught for 19 years, and for 16 of those years I have directed a play in the autumn. I know you know, but it has been one of the most rewarding elements in my career that in three schools I have had the privilege of being both a historian and a drama director, and for 16 of the last 19 years the end of October reminds me that it is just about show time! Directing a play has been challenging, exciting, exhausting, and life-changing, and as I am spending the first October since the Fall of 1994 not directing a play, I have cherished those memories, and I look forward to another October when I get to broaden my horizons and re-discover the nervousness and triumph of a satisfying theatrical experience.

By October, classes have always moved into high-energy mode, and both teachers and students are steadily growing and achieving the lofty goals upon which we spent September creating. There is a seriousness, and a momentum that hums by October.

And there are many birthdays to celebrate: family and friends that remind you of tribulations and triumphs and inspiration. On my father’s side there were the birthdays of my dad’s grandparents, people I actually knew as a child, and a dear cousin of my dad’s, and my uncle, a man my father has always respected and admired. I have former students from Charlotte Latin, an especially wonderful friend named Louise, and also the birthday of my sister.

Many of you know my sister Elizabeth, and I cannot articulate well enough how much I treasure Elizabeth. I remember in childhood, when I was Playground Manager (in the 6th grade, this was the most coveted job one could nab) in charge of Grades 1-3. My sister was in 3rd grade, and I recall adoring that time together at recess, and I enjoyed just being with her peers and not just a dumb big brother. Around that time, as I went through phases of what I wanted to do in life, she was my tireless aide-de-camp as I used her in my projects: I wanted to be a photographer, a director, oh, maybe I was a bit of a dumb brother! Over the years, we grew closer, especially after I became a counselor when she was a member of the All-Ohio State Fair Choir—in some ways, much like being a playground manager again. In adulthood it became clear that she was much more than a sister; she became one of my biggest cheerleaders and supporters. This sister is a tower of strength in the direst of crises, one of the best people with whom to laugh, and a paragon of loyalty. Elizabeth claims that she is more of an introvert, but Elizabeth is also a study of the extroverted successes of our parents, and seeks to model herself on the honesty and sensitivity of our father, and the generosity and creativity of our mother. One of my favorite paintings is by Vincent van Gogh, a work entitled First Steps, and in it van Gogh paints a mother, a father, and a child, enthralled with each other, and a poignant tribute to the best job in the world. Elizabeth and husband Steve mirror that loving family, and their values, and her priorities, are rock solid. In the last few years, as telephone charges became giddily affordable, I began to call her nearly every day, just to make sure she knows how much she comforts and encourages all those around her. We laugh very often, and of course, I miss her these thousands of miles away. Elizabeth’s birthday is October 30, and part of my enjoyment of October is anticipating her birthday and celebrating this trusted soul mate.

And of course as November takes wing, we get to celebrate Halloween. Do you have any idea how weird it is to have gone this whole month seeing nary a merchandising campaign about this spooky day? They really don’t know Halloween in this part of the world. I mean, can you imagine how strange to have seen no displays of candy and costumes, no decorations, no mention of trick-or-treat-ing? I am sure I have never gone through October without the media and capitalist blitzing of this holiday!

So the Dean of Student Life decided that we should introduce Halloween to the kids at KA. It took them awhile to get their minds around this concept: when she tried to explain Halloween to our 9th and 10th graders, several kept asking, “So why do you wear costumes?” and one girl said, “But I don’t have any tricks to do for people!” Wendy explained the fun of the holiday, and so last Thursday we celebrated Halloween. You might wonder why a week early—well, the volleyball team had an away game on Halloween in Damascus, Syria (it still makes me laugh that we have an away game in another country!).

We had pumpkin carving, and a costume judging (the costume that won the prize was so clever—the boy costumed himself as a movie theater floor! He wore all black, had footprints on him, and tickets and candy wrappers and soda cups glued to his outfit) and then an all-orange dinner, and then a dance. This was the first school dance, and of course over the years I have chaperoned dozens of school dances. Most of these dances have been drab and dull affairs. This was a really exciting evening! The organizers focused on group dances, and I went for what was going to a little while, and it was so much fun I stayed until the end! We danced to the Hokey Pokey, and the Macarena, Electric Slide, and some others, and all the kids danced all the time. I joined in after the first dances—it just looked like too much fun. I limbo’d, and whatever the dance is called for the “Makes me want to shout” song from the 1960s. On Sunday of this week the Dean awarded some prizes for costumes and dancing. I won a second place award for the “Best John Travolta Moves.” I lost to a 10th grader, but my ego was soothed by the fact that this winner really wants to be a dancer. I do think I should have won the award for “Best Moves By An Over-40 year old.” Well, I will practice more for next year!

So as October goes, I get a little misty-eyed about the wondrous reasons I revel in the month, from silly adolescent memories, to treasures of my teaching career, to the opportunities to think of loved ones…

Take some time today to think about why you might like in October too.

I should be over it now
I know It doesn't matter much
How old I grow
I hate to see October go