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October is one of my favorite months. For several reasons. "The falling leaves drift by the window. The autumn leaves of red and gold." (lyrics-Autumn Leaves)
For the first couple of weeks of the month, I can't wait to wake up, chow down the Frosted Flakes, swig a cup of Dunkin decaf and head outside. Everywhere I look, I see the collage created by Mother Nature. The fall air is crisp and cool as I walk the neighborhood. Kids are in school and save for the infrequent barking of the Goldendoodle down the block, it's quiet. And I love quiet. The area is blessed with a few maples, and I never fail to stop before each, glorying in the deep red leaves; on windy days, they float down from above, reminding me of snowflakes in December.
I like the month for the seasonal festivals and Oktoberfests highlighting each weekend in various places throughout the county. It's comforting to walk about people gathered together harmoniously, laughing, bartering with vendors, enjoying the many foods available. Fussy me, I always settle for a Hoffman's hotdog smothered with jalapeno peppers and mustard. Political differences aside, people truly enjoy each other's company. I always look forward to the local musicians regaling the crowd with selections ranging from country to rock. I prefer the former, especially the wannabe Willy Nelsons.
October is "pumpkin month." In a touch of R.J. irony, I hate pumpkin pie, a red raspberry guy, but love pumpkins. I marvel at the artistry displayed by countless pumpkin carvers. I fondly recall a Skinner Street (Little Falls) neighbor whose huge orange fruit with "evil" eyes and a row of sharp teeth was especially dazzling at night when illuminated by a lit candle in its hollowed out inside. By the way, some of the plastic Halloween decorations are eye-catching. I say some because others, 10 feet tall and blowing all over the place on windy days, are eye sores.
In honor of October's "symbol," I wrote a children's story, "Pumpkin Man." Over the years, I donated copies to fourth-graders at Benton Hall Academy in the Falls when the iconic Joe Long was principal. I turned the cover into a coloring contest. Dang, those kids were unbelievable "colorers."
Speaking of Halloween, I loved it from the first time I went trick-or-treating in the late 1940's. Dressed up as Roy Rogers, complete with Stetson, chaps and pearl-handled revolver cap gun holstered at my side. Accompanied by mother Vivian. Her chaperoning lasted one year. I loved the candy corn and chocolate bars but not the infernal ribbing I received from the peer group.
As I grew older, I went trick or treating with the gang, yucking it up and gobbling down the sweet stuff. Later, at 11 or 12, peer pressure found me joining in with the tricking. Most of the time we were content to soap windows and ring doorbells of unlighted houses, but then we morphed into leaving a bag filled with dog doodoo on an unpopular person's front porch, setting it on fire and then running like hell. But not so far away that we couldn't watch him stomping out the blaze. We also got our kicks scaring the bejeezus out of the little kids-that is until the cops rounded us up and said that one more complaint and we'd be arrested. Maybe an idle threat, but it worked. In retrospect, I should have resisted the peer pressure.
The festivity ended with a trip to Roa's annual shindig. Must have been a hundred kids whooping up in his huge backyard. Among the games available was dunking for apples. For the gang it was a rite of passage. For me, a moment of profound embarrassment. I was the only one unable to come up with the dang apple -- my water phobia resulted in a 5 to 10 second "dunk." If the mocking laughter wasn't enough, weeks of ribbing added insult to injury. Small wonder that I developed a wee inferiority complex which I later compensated for by developing the opposite. Fascinating how we cover up for our inadequacies.
October is fire safety month in elementary schools. Didn't know it or much less care until Dec. 22, 1991. A housefire in the Falls took the lives of the six McCleod children, aged 11 to 3 (Douglas, Christopher, Jonathan, Shannon Rose, Kelly and Daniel). It was tragic in several ways. First, the sheer magnitude of the loss to the community-at-large. Worst of all and most obviously, its effect on the single-parent mother for whom living on the margin of poverty was difficult enough. While she was out doing a favor for a dear friend, papers located too close to a space heater ignited. The babysitter had to run next door to call the fire department as the family didn't have a phone. Too late as it turned out.
Secondly, the tragedy was personal for me. My youngest daughter Jennifer worked that summer at the Monroe Street swimming pool. In that capacity, she met the McCleod kids. One of the boys, Jonathan, in a display of character unusual for one so young, took money he had saved and bought pizzas for the lifeguards because, as Jen stated, "we were nice to him." At their funeral, she stood before the six small coffins in our iconic Gothic cathedral- like St. Mary's Catholic Church and sang Amazing Grace.
In the greatest of ironies, I was told that the fire never reached the Christmas gifts in the cellar. Mrs. McCleod had accepted an invitation to participate in Herkimer County Community College's Adopt-A-Child Christmas Program which provided deserving children with coats, boots, clothing and a toy, book or game of choice. It remains in operation as the Gram Lorraine Children's Christmas Program.
A final note. If the loss of her children wasn't enough, Mrs. McCleod was condemned in the local press by several neighbors as a bad mother. Their derogatory comments were never verified by the pack of jackals posing as reporters who were more interested in sensationalizing the event than reporting the truth. One actually wrote that at the funeral she wasn't even crying, never stopping to consider that her well of tears had run dry and that she was heavily medicated.
When the Hunger Coalition began, I pledged that as long as it existed, it would do something in memory of the children, something to reinforce what local firefighters do to remind students of the importance of fire safety. Among our many efforts, we raised big bucks to purchase Sparky the Fire-robot. Firemen operate it, entertaining the children while teaching them the do's and don't regarding fire safety. This year, we've had a magnet created which will be distributed to area K-2 pupils. Prominently displayed on the frig, it should be a visual reminder to monthly check smoke detectors and practice exit plans.
During the first week of the month, Kay and I will spend a week at Peter's Cottages in Inlet. I'll be enjoying the best pizza ever from the Screaming Eagle, sitting by 4th Lake at dusk, walking Moss Lake among the fallen reds and yellows and sitting by its shore gazing at the lone island with its lone fir tree rising 30 to 40 feet above the ground, golfing nine holes (that's all this old body will allow) at Thendara and Inlet, lunching at Daikers, taking a day trip to Lake Placid and, Kay's favorite, frequenting the famous Old Forge Hardware store. With the sands of time running out, I'll take more of it than usual to drink it all in, eternally grateful for the month of October.
Ray Lenarcic is a 1965 State University of New York at Fredonia graduate and is a resident of Herkimer.