Fall, Loss and Renewal

A couple of bloggers I regularly read (Diner Girl and KJ) recently pointed out that they look at September as the beginning of the year rather than January. One speculated this was a throwback to the beginning of the school year.

Fall used to be my favorite time of year, with fall colors, a chill in the air and yes, a connection to the beginning of school years past.

September 1 is now a very awkward day for me. That is the birthday of two very dear, long-time friends, a 40-something in Wisconsin and a 30-something in England. But that is now also the anniversary of my Mother’s death, partly at the hands of Hurricane Katrina.

Labor Day used to be a family gathering day, with a barbeque at Aunt Catherine’s house and hours spent viewing the Jerry Lewis Telethon. In the days of 4 channels instead of 400, that event was a great singular showcase of entertainment wrapped in the good feeling of supporting a worthy cause. School started the next day, so this was the real end of summer fun for us. Last Labor Day Weekend was a family event because of the long drive my sister and I took from Louisiana to Maryland, in her little car filled with all she was able to take with her as she fled Katrina days before.

But Fall really lost its charm for me in 2001. The terrorist attacks of September 11th were followed by the heart-wrenching decision to move my parents to a nursing home in October, followed by my Dad’s death there in November. Just in time for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I already had trouble with the holidays, although I didn’t really know why till that year. A psychologist I interviewed on the radio pointed out that holiday depression is a feeling of loss. In adult life, the holidays often don’t live up to expectations formed by the holiday celebrations and rituals of our youth. That year was the most extreme example for me.

The Fall of 2002 wasn’t much better. The “sniper” incident that made national news started and ended in my neck of the woods. John Allen Muhammad and Lee Boyd Malvo began their killing spree near where I work and were caught weeks later just 3 miles from where I live. We moved way the hell out here to get away from some of the insanity of DC and it’s suburbs and it followed us.

Everyone faces loss during their lives, but this is an especially big boomer issue. We are at the age when we lose our parents, lose our youth, and sometimes lose our jobs. Boomers with children feel some loss as their offspring move on into their own adult lives. We often lose the sense of purpose in our lives.

This should be a good time of life for us, however, because we can now become who we really want to be. We can choose which of the life lessons we learned from our parents apply to the life we want to live. We can celebrate where we’ve been in our careers as we choose to change careers or direction. We can redefine the word “retirement” to mean a beginning rather than an end and plan accordingly.

The days are noticeably shorter this week, there is a chill in the air, the Jerry Lewis Telethon is on one of the seventy-eight available channels and tomorrow school busses will slow my commute to work. Soon the leaves will turn yellow and gold. Birds will fly south, squirrels will gather nuts and our sweaters will migrate to the cleaners.

My busiest work season starts in two weeks and that’ll be a great diversion for my annual emotional hibernation. New Year’s Day has become my favorite holiday. I throw out the old, bring in the new and begin a nearly month-long process of renewal that ends with my birthday. January sets the tone for my year. I look at where my life has been for the past year and contemplate where it will go in the coming year.

I still enjoy the beauty of Fall, but my usually optimistic nature takes a vacation from September through December. My sunny disposition is more Mardi Gras mask than reality at this time of year.

What gets me through this?

I know it’s only 118 days, 12 hours and 8 minutes till New Year’s Day.