27 September 2009

Article: "Kind of Blue" by Jim Shahin

Sunday, 27 September. John Coltrane is playing. We follow the camera descending into the 'burbs... light is fading, gone.

I am only guessing what this author feels, that "it's in the air" feeling. Mild reading for a mild fall day. The author kind of "Kuralts" around for awhile, but it would be more satisfying if it were more revealing, or I better understood what he tried to impart to us in the end, what lasting impression he wanted to render. Communication...


An acquaintance told me the other day that she doesn't like autumn. "I find it sad," she said. My first impulse was to reply, "Sad? Autumn? What are you, nuts? Autumn is great. There is a chill in the air. Leaves change color. And the football season is still young enough to pretend that even my beloved, heartbreaking Philadelphia Eagles might not implode." But before I spoke, she filled the empty space. "Everything turning brown, the days turning dark." She turned her gaze toward the window. "It's sad."

Feeling obligated to see what she was seeing, I looked out the window, too. If you're into sun and warmth and daylight, then, okay, she had a point. "Yeah," I replied. "I guess it is."But sadness may be exactly what I like about this time of year. I live in the Washington, D.C., area, a place that gets a pretty good autumn. Big, old maple trees line the sidewalks and canopy the streets, splashing color everywhere. But for years before we moved here, I'd pined for autumn like a cat pawing at a screen door to go outside. I was stuck in Texas, where fall is bypassed on the way from an endless summer (not what the Beach Boys had in mind when they wrote that phrase, believe me) to the rainy season, Janu­ary, then onto summer again.


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