ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Monday, September 9, 1996 TAG: 9609090101
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-7 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: MONTY S. LEITCH
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
WELL, IT'S after Labor Day. No more sleeveless dresses for you, my dear. Time to put away all those white shoes, too; those cute little strappy sandals, those raggedy canvas mules.
Oh, we've talked about this before: the exigencies of the season. With fall, we're back to our stodgy blacks and browns, our sensible shoes, our jackets and sweaters and caps. As in, "Take a sweater with you today," and "Don't go outside without your cap." You remember those directions, don't you?
Maybe you've even given them to someone you love yourself. Likely, you've heard this definition of a sweater, to: "that article of clothing that mothers force children to wear when mothers themselves feel cool." Never mind what the children might feel, running around the yard or up and down the stairs, breathless and pink in the cheeks.
Never mind that we'll still have many a sweltering afternoon. That for several more weeks, yet, socks will simply be out of the question. That even the sight of one of your sweaters might make the back of your neck start to sweat.
It's that time of the year. Fall is in the air. Time to change your clothes. Time to take a sweater with you everyplace you go.
Yesterday, I wore my jeans for the first time in months. It seemed appropriate to the date. I took a sweater along with me, too. And then, all afternoon, I fidgeted under restrictions. The jeans were hot, the wrap unnecessary.
Finally, I flung that sweater into the back seat of the car and turned up the air conditioning as high as it would go.
"This is madness," I said out loud.
Actually, this is merely September.
A month of teetering on the cusp: neither summer still, nor quite yet fall. A month when any day can go either way - up into sultry inferno, or down into damp chilliness. A month when the Boy Scout motto seems particularly apropos.
Lately, nearly every morning has started with a heavy, misty fog. No telling what the rest of the day will bring.
So, take your sweater.
Take your umbrella.
Take a pair of shorts and a pair of gloves.
Be prepared.
Everywhere I go, I hear people talking about the August fogs. They say, "My mother used to say that for every fog we had in August, we'll have a snow in January." Then, they shake their heads and cluck their tongues. "She's been marking the calendar this year, and, I tell you what, it's looking bad."
Take your jacket
Take your hat.
Take a blanket and a shovel with you in the car.
This September, we might be teetering on the brink of a winter for the record books.
Last winter, I replaced my hot-pink, knee-high snow boots with a pair of stately black ones. Somehow, it no longer felt seemly for a woman of my age to be sporting hot-pink boots. Wearing them, I teetered on the brink of respectability.
Now, I have these nice black boots. They match my sweaters and my coats. They match my caps and my gloves, and my sensible, stodgy umbrella.
But, for a while yet, even in cool morning fogs, I'm slapping around in my raggedly canvas mules. I'm still wearing shorts, even if I have to wear a sweater with 'em. I'm holding out, and holding on.
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times columnist.
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