A Night In The Lonesome October

That's the title of a little-known 1994 gem of a book by Roger Zelazny. I was reminded of it when She-Who-Knows said that this time of year was sad. In a sense, it is. It's the bleak mid-Autumn, at the very least; if the leaves haven't fallen, they will — and if the people haven't left, they're leaving.

It has occurred to me that perhaps this batch of students may be the last batch of teenagers to whom I will ever be saying farewell at the end of a school year. That reinforces two things to me: 1) that the young phase of my life was over, as with many people, at forty; 2) that the new phase has genuinely begun.

Once again, I have to thank all those who made it possible; from those who were great but thought little of themselves, to those who were small but thought great things of themselves; from those who finagled their way into the counsels of the mighty, to those who contrived to make light of the burdensome; from those who were Family and hence stood by me, to those who were not and still did.

It's not a lonesome October for me. But it must be a lonesome October for the friendless people who have to balance the books while seeing the deficits mount; it must be terribly lonely for the big people "in the high houses that are shuttered from the day" as Chesterton said. Where did summer go for them?