This weekend turns the calendar page to October 1 and as I once again asked myself “what shall I write about this week?” I got the notion to type in my search engine “special days in October”. The list is quite extensive. Many are serious…there’s a fair share that seem ludicrous while the remainder are quite silly….

I scrolled quickly down the list to see how many observances I could see myself participating. I identified five from the number in the long list…and though they may not be in a top ten list….I made fast connections with each.

*International Older Persons...hmmm, I noticed the word “older” versus “old”. Doesn’t seem that long ago as a young working adult I thought the 25 year old married guys in my department were “OLD”….I’ll be 70 in a month…guess my youthful opinion makes me a dinosaur now.

*National Coffee Day….I had my first cup of coffee at the age of 19 and that was by default. All the guys in my department drank coffee; if I wanted tea or hot chocolate it meant rinsing out the sole coffee carafe to have hot water. That meant extra steps to the bathroom…so I heaped a lot of cream and sugar to quench the taste of black coffee. It didn’t take long to realize adding sugar to my coffee was stacking up calories…dropped the sugar….not too much later I was able to eliminate the cream, too. But! I admit that I do enjoy seasonal creamer flavors that come out in the Fall and at Christmas!

*National Name Your Car...I didn’t know this day existed. Gosh, my husband and I have been naming our cars since we got married in 1980. A sampling includes Buzz Bomb, Madonna, Blue Whale, Jack, Hazel, The Waggie, The Buick, Snow White, Red Racer. I have no idea WHY we name our cars, but it’s been fun. I even had to ask my husband to help me remember a few names. He stepped in as I was writing to have me include names of cars from his own family…mom’s was the Rust Rocket and granny’s was the Silver Bullet.

*National Be Nice...for heaven’s sake isn’t it a shame we humans HAVE to be reminded to be nice? I had to include this one because after all, that’s the format of my blog. So, have you been nice today? You have until midnight…and then you can start over tomorrow when you wake.

*World Hospice & Palliative….this one holds a lot of significance. Both of my parents were placed under the care of hospice; I cannot describe the level of gratitude and respect I have for this organization. Caring for people in their final days, weeks, or months is a special calling. I’ve yet to meet a hospice employee who was not gracious, loving, and totally committed to serving families, sacrificing time and energy.

There you have it. There’s a few of special days in October that brought back immediate memories from long ago to the present. If you’ve got a few minutes, do your own search and see what you might want to celebrate in October, too. Grab a cup of coffee….glance at your car and give it a name….be nice today…heck, be nice every day! and be grateful for life, for the air in your lungs…pray you get to become one of the “older” people.

Ah, fall, that time of year when heat waves are replaced with cool breezes that begin to tear leaves from their branches….summer flowering plants either die or begin their preparation for winter by slowing becoming dormant….lemonade to quench a parch throat is replaced by a mug of hot tea or better yet, mulled cider.

Ah, yes, fall. Perhaps one of my favorite seasons, it offers glimpses of hope as each week brings cooler temperatures and less blue skies….brings back memories from years gone by. I’m almost 70 now, and while many childhood memories have long faded away, there are those that remain, bringing a smile to my face.

I grew up in Saginaw–in the city–so visiting farmers markets or orchards was a delight. My mother enjoyed making apple pies so our trips to local orchards was a given every fall. We had our choice of several growers to choose from….if she wanted Northern Spies we usually found them at Turner’s Apple Orchard or Bintz’s Apple Mountain. The advantage of going to Bintz’s included watching them make cider in their mill…waiting for warm donuts to come out of the oven, enjoying both at an outside picnic table under cloudy skies. If mom was feeling especially generous, we even took a bag of donuts home along with a quart of cider.

By the time I became a young adult another orchard established their business in a nearby community which included their own cider mill and bakery. To this day, you can enjoy one of their many treats inside their “barn look café”, away from those cool breezes and little bees that seem to enjoy a sweet treat as much as us humans. This orchard–Bayne’s Apple Valley–is a thriving business and popular attraction for local families. For me, it holds one of my most precious memories–it was the last time I enjoyed cider and donuts with my dad.

In the last four years of life, my dad lived with dementia. We kids did our best to get him out for social interaction, breaking up his time living in memory care. As was our custom, my husband and I made the 70 mile trip every Sunday to spend time with him. In October one Sunday, we took him to Bayne’s. My brothers and their wives were with us and we joined the crowds of families waiting in line for our delicious treats. When seated, we chatted. We reminisced about all the years we had spent time together drinking cider and eating more than our fair share of donuts, hot off the rack. Our afternoon was bittersweet, as I realized this may be my last time celebrating fall’s bounty of apples and donut calories no one bothered to count. Dad, at this time of his life, was quiet. Words didn’t form easily anymore. Most communication came through the twinkle in his eyes and a smile that never seemed to wane, even on a bad day.

We talked about the number of pies mom probably baked over the years. Did he remember?

We joked about which donut was the best…the cinnamon sugar? or the plain one? the cider one? Did dad have a favorite?

Before we left Bayne’s that cool afternoon, I made a stop in the store where baskets of numerous apple varieties lined the walls….carefully choosing a few Northern Spies for a couple pies…selecting others for applesauce and lunches. Each bag of apples carried with it a memory from childhood that fills me with joy every fall season now as I recall those former family errands and time spent together that have become precious reminders of living through many seasons.

Soon, I’ll visit an orchard or farmers market for this year’s supply of apples. I’ll hope to visit an orchard that serves cider and donuts…and I’ll lift each one to my mouth…hoping for a twinkle in my eyes complimented by a gentle smile to quiet the moment, allowing my mind to linger for just a few minutes in the legacy a paper cup of cider and a sticky donut create for a little girl…grown up now…making her own pies…remembering her past and rejoicing in a future rooted in love…in change…no matter the season.

We all know them. You know, those “firsts” in life that are exciting and as memories repeated through conversations…bragging … .reminiscing…they become milestones that are etched in our minds forever, like photos stored in albums…to be enjoyed for years to come.

With the arrival of September, many of our children and grandchildren have returned to school. Some kids across our nation entered their new grades in mid August, bringing a close to summer days filled with sleeping in after long playful days that stretched into nighttime hours under the glow of countless stars…lightning bugs hovering above lawns…bonfires and smores. 

For me and my husband, this is the first year that all four of our grandchildren will be in their respective classrooms. Our oldest is now in the third grade; her little brother has begun preschool. Our son’s oldest boy, age 4, is enrolled in pre-kindergarten and his little sister, age 3 ½, is also in preschool. To use an old familiar phrase, where has time gone?

The first day of school got me thinking about all the important first things we accomplish in life and though my list is lengthy, it is not by any means exhaustive. There’s my own first day of kindergarten. Though I don’t have vivid memories from that year in 1958, I remember my teacher was Mrs. Glass, who was quite seasoned in her profession and it was a positive year. Except, part of my first day of school included me  thinking I had accomplished the task of going…the second morning mother woke me I resisted quite firmly declaring “I’m not going, I already went”. Never mind I had two older brothers who went off to school every day under my watchful eyes. 

Learning to ride a two wheel bicycle was wonderful. We had over 30 kids in our neighborhood so bikes were plenty; we were always trading and sharing. One of my friends had a small “two wheeler” as we called them which allowed me to get on easily, practice my balance, knowing if I fell over the distance hitting the ground wasn’t too painful. I was so excited that the day arrived when I mastered riding the bike without wobbling…actually applying its brakes by pushing back on the pedals as designed, versus slowing down and jumping off which had been my early practice coming to a stop! With my newfound excitement I told my parents I knew how to ride a two wheeler. Much to my dismay dad wasn’t quite convinced as I begged him to buy me a bike. It took borrowing that friend’s bike and giving him a demonstration up and down the sidewalk in front of our home. I was SO pleased when his earlier suspicions were replaced with shared excitement and soon we made a trip to our local Firestone Store where he happily bought me my “first” two wheeler. It was green and had white wall tires. I became the envy of the neighborhood, now having my own bike to ride–and share.

There are other “firsts” in my life…getting a job after high school graduation–at our local children’s zoo. Enrolling in business college, carpooling for nine months and then landing a full time position with a bank, carpooling again–with dad this time–until he made a phone call to my uncle who was a car salesman. Uncle Rusty found a 1969 Opel, a car he thought would be perfect for a 19 year old. It was. It was bright blue, a two door which made it look quite sporty despite its small engine. I thought I was pretty cool. Until I visited my cousin Jim one day. He had a brand new Firebird and after riding all over Flint with him one afternoon I decided I wanted one, too.

Against my father’s wishes I made the purchase. Since I worked in a bank I had access to the book which calculated monthly payments and laid out a plan to save for my down payment in order to finance the remainder. When the time came, I ordered a 1974 Firebird from the same uncle who found my Opel. It didn’t take long–one spin around the block–and my dad was hooked. He even agreed to be a co-signer on my loan.

“Firsts” can be scary as we face many unknowns in life. They are also exciting and adventurous. Inevitably, they are unavoidable, too. How we approach and embrace every “first” that comes our way depends on how we’re wired…our knowledge of what’s in front of us…maybe influences by others who have gone before us.

I’m happy I learned to ride a two wheeler. I was thrilled the first time I put on ice skates. I was nervous on my first real date with a boy I really liked when we were both in the 11th grade. I didn’t know what to expect with labor pains and I’ll never forget how it felt when the nurse laid our baby girl–our first born–in my arms. Having her cozy up to me all swaddled in a small blanket, her sweet “new baby smell”, made all the memories of well deserved labor pains go away…and I found myself daydreaming of all the “firsts” that would now become her own adventures, me watching from a front row seat to cheer her on at every turn.