It's been ten years since I was in marching band, but October afternoons still make me think of parking lot practices, and on Friday nights and Saturday mornings, I almost want to go watch high school football. The only other time of year that I get high school flashbacks is late March and early April, when I remember rehearsals for the musical. You'd think that set of memory cues would have been replaced in college by Medfest preparations, but somehow the high school memories persist.
I know a lot of people with October birthdays. I haven't been acknowledging the ones on my friendslist, but I have been thinking of each of you, and will continue to do so. I still haven't called my brother, either.
A trend over the last few years is that I generally rediscover baseball each October. I can't ever seem to remember it over the summer, when it's relaxed. No, I don't start paying attention until the playoffs, when it's do or die. And it's always do or die, since somewhere along the line I gave in and admitted that I'm a Red Sox fan, God help me. I was up watching the game until 1:30 last night, because I had to know if they lost then, or if they're prolonging the agony to lose tonight. Then again, knowing the Red Sox, I wouldn't put it past them to win two more and lose in game 7 as usual - prolonging the agony is really what it's all about. Being a Red Sox fan in October is a mild form of masochism, unless like me you live in Yankee territory, in which case there's nothing mild about it.