October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came…
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a
carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.
~George Cooper, "October's Party"
Autumn has walked across our
Pennsylvania mountains and spilled out all the seasonal smells like a rich
perfume. This is time when red-cheeked apples and sweet wood smoke give off a
familiar fragrance that is a harbinger of things to come. We can smell the
earth—the dried cornstalks, the pungent aroma of woods and pine, and the musky
scent of pumpkins and gourds. Along the fences, grapes on withering vines fill
the air with an earthy bouquet. But there’s a certain sadness to
autumn. It’s a warning that the year is ending, that we’re growing older. We’re
maturing. It is a time to contemplate the reason for our being and for our
purpose. It’s a time to be thankful for our lives, to re-evaluate our errors,
to realign our goals, and to strive towards that which makes us happy . . . and
our world a sweeter place.
****
Above are the poem and excerpts
from my very first online blog, for October 2011, fourteen years
ago. Since graduating decades ago from Point Park College with a degree in
journalism and communications, I’ve realized my entire life has been dedicated
to pounding the typewriter or computer keys to string words into sentences and
sentences into paragraphs.
I’ve written for television, radio,
education, industry and business. I’ve composed copy for commercials and public
service announcements for radio, television, and news outlets. I’ve written grants,
curricula, and news articles. I’ve taxed by brain while collecting facts for
nonfiction, and stretched my imagination for fiction. I’ve written with tight
deadlines of only a few hours; and I’ve procrastinated for days, knowing I had a
loose lengthy deadline. All writers know the feeling of
rejection—as well as the joys of being published. Awards are also wonderful to
receive, but there is no better feeling for writers than the minute they finish
a tough piece of writing, and they know they’ve given one hundred percent of
their time, energy, and talent. The elation, which may only be a smile or nod
or sigh to the outsider, can’t compare to the joy and relief they feel as the
thoughts in their heads do a happy dance.
Someone once asked me what I
thought were the main ingredients needed to become a writer. There are many,
but personally for me, the main abilities are curiosity, an imagination, persistence,
and a love for reading.
As October brings us falling
leaves, falling temperatures, and maybe even falling snow, I leave you with
this quote from Somerset Maugham:
It’s a funny thing about life;
if you refuse to accept anything but the best,
you very often get it.
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