| October is the coolest month. Not the
coldest, just the month with the most on the ball. It's got the weather,
it's got the holidays, it's got the World Series. And it's got it all over
those other months. We know -- we've been through all of them. More times
than we'd like. |
| Take February, April, June, September and
November -- please. These so-called "months" have no more than 30 days
each, and one has even less! (We don't have to tell you which month
that is.) But mighty October has 31 different days. It's
simple arithmetic: More is better. |
| "But wait a minute," you say. "There's other
months with 31 days." What, like March? Come on! Sissy month! In
like a lion, out like a -- what? -- that's right ... a lamb. A little
lamb. And how about May? Almost as wimpy as March. Might be okay if it
were called "Must," but it isn't. And July's when all the back-to-school
sales start, and August is too hot and has a pretentious and utterly
inappropriate name. And December and January -- sure, some nice holidays,
a couple parades -- but, hey, it's really cold! |
| Not in October. Suspended twixt solstice and
equinox in a warp of climatic perfection, October, like the baby bear's
porridge, is neither too hot nor too cold -- it's "just
right." |
| Every schoolchild knows the old saw, "As the
weather goes, so goes California." And as California's frolic factor
increases dramatically through the tenth month's cavalcade of days, each
somehow more congenial than the one before, multifaceted October confronts
leisure-happy Californians with an awesome array of
activities. |
| October! Promoter of domestic vivacity!
Beach-weary families find fun in their very own backyards. A chef's hat, a
piece of meat, and wow! It's a barbecue! Santa Ana winds sweep in over the
mountains, scattering paper plates and napkins into pools still warm
enough for a few well-placed cannonballs through autumn's first floating
layer of fallen leaves. No swimming after lunch, but here in the
intersection of America's greatest sports seasons it's neither too early
to hurl the pigskin nor too late to swat the horsehide. And if some errant
missile should breach the neighbors' fence, no problem! They're having a
barbecue, too! |
| October! A month for love! As crickets chirp
their amorous ostinato, young lovers are lured out under the palms by the
balmy evening. Puckish gods of love and weather nudge them closer with a
subtle chilly breeze that hints of cooler days to come. Shine on, harvest
moon, shine on these paramours, and while you're at it shine on that field
of pumpkins -- we ain't had no pumpkin in January, February, June or
July! |
| Yes, in this month of orange splendor,
pumpkins, God's gift to the economically disadvantaged gourmet, can be had
for as little as one cent a pound. Pumpkin pudding, pumpkin pie, pumpkin
custard, pumpkin bread, pumpkin soup, pumpkin ice cream and just plain old
pumpkin.... Mmmmm! But don't call your sweetheart "pumpkin" in the month
of October -- at least not while you're holding the carving
knife. |
| And it's a great month for TV. All the new
shows get canceled. It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown airs once
again. And -- play ball! -- here comes the World Series into a million
California living rooms. |
| But unstick yourself from that screen long
enough to get social: October is party month! Marxists whoop it up in
commemoration of the 1917 storming of the Winter Palace, and Lennonists
gather in downtown Los Angeles around a life-size bronze replica of the
late Beatle (born October 1940). Real and ersatz Germans hie themselves
down to a panoply of real and ersatz Oktoberfests hosted by every
bratskellar and theme park worth its salt -- plenty of those in
entertainment-conscious California. Sleepy Glendale goes loco con mucho
gusto for the Days of the Verdugos, a week of frantic fiesta-ing in
honor of the town's 18th-century Spanish aristocratic heritage. And
porciphiles from every corner of the state journey to exotic Yermo and the
colorful Calico Ghost Town, on the banks of the perhaps once-raging Mojave
River, where the revelry of Calico Days is capped by the perilous greased
pig competition, in which modern-day gladiators wrestle slippery squealers
in a battle that determines the primacy of man or swine. |
| But win, lose or draw in Yermo, by October 31
that gulf which separates men from swine has grown negligible, as humans
eat apples out of buckets, squeal on doorsteps demanding food and
generally make a big mess -- and it's all okay, 'cause it's just
Halloween. Children the state over merrily dress in the guise of juvenile
delinquents and vandals, festooning neighbors' houses with attractive egg
and tissue paper designs. |
| The thoughtful Californian, however, will
recognize that Halloween is only the second most important holiday
in this best of all possible months. For without the man we honor on the
12th of October, where we we be? Not here. Without Christopher Columbus
the world would still be flat, and there wouldn't even be a California,
much less a California magazine, not to mention a "Best of
California" -- right now you'd be reading "Best of Sumatra" or "Best of
Zimbabwe" or "Best of Berwick-on-Tweed" and wearing a peaked hat or wooden
shoes or decorative body scars. Think about that, Mr. and Ms.
Laid-Back West Coast Lifestyle, when you're charbroiling those burgers
'round the hot tub, and the warm wind blows off the desert, and the
harvest moon shines, and it's
October.¶ |