Fall

Fall, so named for leaves which do and golf putts which don't, has arrived.

That phrase has been a tradition in this column for some time. This time things are different.

This fall is like no other in my life nor the lives of all of us Americans.

As this summer ended, I already had run some thoughts about my annual "fall column" around in my brain. It is the one or two times a year when I don't have to conger up a topic to write about. The theme stays the same each time and I just have to add a few new timely topics to keep things fresh.

Probably I will be able to do that again next year and hopefully after that. But this time the cliches about fall sports and other fall things don't have the same gleam, tingle, spark, or sparkle.

Some images just aren't ready to fade from my mind.

Fall, so named for buildings, no matter how strong, which will and for a nation which never will, has arrived.

Fall means football games at all levels, pennant races, the playoffs and the World Series, the start of hockey and basketball, of lazy afternoons and early evening shadows. The change in the smell of the air, the tingle of gentle breezes on the back of your neck and the dropping of acorns and oh so many different shapes of leaves, the ripening of pumpkins and the annual back to school nights. Settling into dorms, new roommates and the mystery of doing laundry without mom's help for thousands of first term college students.

Even a few auto makers still introduce new models in the fall. Not many but a few. Millions of parents still somehow find ways to spend most of Saturday morning with young soccer and youth football teams.

Yes pholks, all those things are happening this fall. But even if all things are the same, they really aren't. This fall is different.

Since September 11 not a day has gone by that a story of heroism or terrible loss has not caused a tear to fall from my eyes. I'm sure the day will come when life gets back close to normal.

But please don't get the idea that I'm stuck in sadness which can't be halted. No. Today's tears more and more are those of pride in my country, my fellow Americans of all races, beliefs and backgrounds.

Tears which come from seeing Americans flags on rural mail boxes, of million dollar homes, on two-room shacks, on mobile homes, motor homes, bicycles, motorcycles, pick-up trucks, Cadillacs, Lincolns, Chevys, Hondas, Toyotas and rusted Ford Tempos.

Those are the things which help me make it through each day despite the horror and sadness brought to mind constantly with the thoughts of Sept. 11.

Sure, some innocent Americans, and others, have fallen, but certainly not as a whole. They shouldn't have fallen but they did not fall in vain.

Our flag has never fallen nor has it flown so majestically.

The allegiance to our flag has never been so united.

Our collective voices did not fall. I know that because God Bless America has never sounded so wonderful.

Yes pholks, fall, so named for leaves which do and golf putts which don't, has arrived.

Yes pholks, this fall is different.

Maybe next fall those leaves and golf putts will be more important.

The above stories are the property of The Valley Voice Newspaper and may not be reprinted without explicit permission in writing from the publisher.