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September 2, 2013

“When the goldenrod is yellow, 
And leaves are turning brown – 
Reluctantly the summer goes 
In a cloud of thistledown.

When squirrels are harvesting 
And birds in flight appear – 
By these autumn signs we know 
September days are here.” 
  Beverly Ashour, September


How do I know September is here?

Because I wake to smug  chuckling and self-congratulatory posturing. There are occasional wails of intense pain  “no, no, no” along with dumbfounded “why would you do that?”

I know it’s September because Coach is doing the annual Fantasy Football Draft. (do you even capitalize that?)

This is year 14 with this group of men and by now, one might think I’d be immune.

With the rising of the sun, Coach is downstairs, command central setup. Coffee, cell phone electronic devices.

My only job is to remember to not answer when he talks to the screen.







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