"I suppose the fact that I was born in October is among the reasons it's my favorite month and always will be. I remember a lot of happy birthdays. I remember going to a WWF arena show for one of them, getting to curse out Bobby "The Brain" Heenan live and in person. I remember my mom making me my preferred birthday cake: chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, decorated with candy corn (I like candy corn, judge me as you will)."
"There are commercial harbingers for autumn, of course: pumpkin spice lattes, variety packs of Halloween candy on sale at the grocery store, and all of the other familiar trappings. But none of those gimmicks can replicate the feel of October itself: the air, the landscape, and the memory of it all. Every October I live through reminds me of all the other Octobers I've had, and those memories mean more to me than any stupid birthday present ever could."
"Because the Octobers of my memory remain so bright and beautiful. I remember a farmstand that popped up every October along my bus route to school in Orono, Minn. The land near that school has long since been developed into townhouse complexes, but I still remember it being clear and fertile, that little apple stand reminding little me that Halloween was nearing."
Birthdays become less significant with age, but October retains outsized importance because of its atmosphere, landscapes, and accumulated memories. Specific childhood memories surface: attending a WWF arena show and cursing out Bobby The Brain Heenan in person, a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting decorated with candy corn, and a friend spoiling the grim-reaper punchline on a birthday card. Commercial autumn markers like pumpkin spice lattes and discounted Halloween candy cannot reproduce October’s feel. Seasonal rituals—temporary farmstands and apple stands along a school bus route—anchor recurring recollections that outweigh material birthday gifts.
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