Day 10 of NaBloPoMo/AUTUMN


      It is probably my favorite of all the seasons. Maybe it is because I was born in October.  Late October!

You know you are really heavily into Autumn when it’s late October going

for November. I love the usual things everyone does, the leaves falling and making a riot of swirling

color all around you.  And the smells, the burning leaves, call me weird but

I especially love the smell of burning leaves. The aroma is mesmerizing.

     Then there are the smells coming out of the kitchen. First your Mother’s kitchen and then your own kitchen.

And even some of us, our daughter’s kitchen.  Hopefully she can cook.

     The soups, the pies, the cookies.  It seems pumpkin pie to pumpkin lattes abound.

Everything is made out of pumpkin!  Actually I think the whole pumpkin thing is a bit overdone.

But I love it while it lasts.

     Now my Mother was a good cook.  She could cook just about anything and make you like it.

But her pies, not so much!  Especially her pie crusts.  They were the worst!  Of course she was dealing with an old coal

stove and you didn’t exactly get even heat throughout the oven. It was either too hot or too cool.  So she struggled with it valiantly.

Strange thing though, we, as kids, loved those pie crusts.  We thought that’s how they were supposed to be.  So I don’t know if

she actually thought the crusts were good, because we always told her we loved it.  Or if she knew the truth and just kept it to herself?

     But back to Autumn, I can’t forget Halloween!  It was a great time for kids.  The dressing up and going around to the people

you knew and begging candy.  But in those days or maybe it was just back East, if you didn’t perform a song or dance for the people,

they didn’t give you a treat.  So we had to bone up on our singing and dancing well in advance.  And then they would give you money

if they really liked you.  So it was even more of a motivation to do good. We usually came home with enough movie money for a week!

     I loved Autumn as a kid because it usually was snowing some days by then and we could go sled riding. Now that was fun!

We had fun and we got hurt a lot.  Mostly cuts and scrapes though.  Sled riding was the most fun of the Autumn and Winter

Of course you couldn’t stay out too long or you would freeze.  But down the hills we flew!  Unafraid in our  childish glee.

    Now the  leaves back East were a plethora of colors and it was fun walking to school and shuffling through them. Much easier than the

snow that was to come.  Even though we loved the winter.

     But living in California these many years now, although I sometimes miss the leaves and the snow,  I really can’t complain as we do have some

wonderful weather  to make up for any loss.

     I do miss the Autumn of my youth, the smells, the football games, the good food and yes even the soggy pie crusts!

Day 9 of NaBloPoMo


What if I had a different name.  I have thought about that from time to time.  But I always decided I liked the name I had, Marion.  It is kind of old fashioned I guess.  One doesn’t see many Marions around anymore.  You still see Marian and that is kinda cute and girly.  But Marion, not so much.  It gives off a masculine connotation or a ‘take charge person’ .  Which of course, I am.  But you do not realize that upon just meeting me. Or even after a few times in my presence.  But after awhile, it is pretty hard to miss. The take charge’ thing I mean.  My family will agree with that I am sure!

But there is a story that goes with the name when I was being christened.  In those days just the God parents took the baby to the church to be baptized.  Not like later, when the parents also accompanied the God parents and anyone else the family they wanted to invite.  And in either case there was a party at the house or the home of the parents of the baby being baptized.

Well when my God parents got to the church, they had forgotten what my name was supposed to be.  And phones were not as prevalent as they are now. So they were rattling off any name they could think of among themselves while the priest was cooling his heels and not too calmly I may add.  I had heard this story recounted many times in the years following.  In fact, it had become family lore and everyone got a big charge out of it.

The God parents pulled “Marion” out of the air, not being able to think of the right name and so Marion it was!  My Mother said she hit the roof when they got home and told her about the fiasco.  She told them the name was “Rita.”  And strangely enough the God mother’s name was Rita.  Double fiasco!  She was my Father’s sister and very young.  She didn’t turn out to be a very good God mother either.  I never got any presents and she never came to visit.  I never could have depended on her to make sure I took my Faith seriously.  Of course going to Catholic school, with the Nuns breathing down my neck constantly, should have been enough to keep me on the straight and narrow!

I can’t complain though, because I always liked my name.  I thought it was kind of unique, especially when I found out it also belonged to  John Marion Wayne, who was one of my favorite movie stars.