The Pumpkin Apocalypse

Fall is the pumpkin apocalypse.  The day after the Fourth of July, anything red, white, and blue is 95% off to make space for all things fall.  They try to be discreet at first with just a small display of candy corn, but by August it is full force shoved down your throat and when you try to take a breath they just shove another pumpkin flavored something or other into your mouth.  Shelves have been stocked for Halloween for the past month and a half which really irritates me because if you wish away summer, you must not have a heart.  I have held onto the warm weather for as long as I can, but I must admit that fall is officially here.  I have dusted off my riding boots and chunky sweaters so I guess that makes me just as heartless as the rest of them. 

I do love fall though.  Something about it makes me feel all warm inside.  For one, you can finally satisfy your guilty pleasure and eat the large pizza with extra cheese you've been craving all summer because it is socially acceptable to have some extra blubber to keep warm on those cold winter days.  Plus you don't have to carry an extra razor around in your purse for those few stray hairs you missed because you can hide them under pants for the next couple of months and no one will know the difference.  Think cottage on a lake, yard overflowing with piles of red and orange leaves, surrounded by rolling hills that have no end.  Throw a pumpkin into the mix and BAM you've got yourself a pretty accurate description of fall.  

My earliest memories of fall come in some form of football, apples, pumpkins, and more football.  Well before my time, my parents went to UMass.  My dad played football while he was there so when we were growing up we went to quite a few games.  I have not been back in years and I can't remember a specific day or time, but most visits followed the same routine. 

We would leave our house early on Saturday morning and drive to Amherst for the game.  We were still young so we never joined the rowdy crowds of tailgaters.  Instead we packed lunches and sat in the trunk of the car eating our peanut butter and fluff sandwiches.  The stadium was made entirely of concrete and there was something about it that made the entire experience.  This was back when football was still a game and not a business.  It wasn't fancy.  There were no box seats or Gluten-free options at the snack stand, it was just a stadium devoted to the love of the game. 

Some game days were sweltering hot and some were frigid cold.  We didn't know the people sitting around us by name, but in one way or another we knew them.  Many had a son or grandson on the team, some were alumni like my parents visiting for the weekend, and others were just devoted football fans that happened to live in the area, but whenever the Minutemen ran for a glorious touchdown we became one.  My dad jumped up to high five everyone while the rest of us chanted on cue "Go!  Go U! Go UMass!  Go UMass!"  The Minuteman mascot (known in my family as the man with the big head) would run up and down the sidelines with a massive maroon and white flag flying behind him and the band went wild playing the school fight song louder and louder until the field goal was kicked and the canon boomed throughout the stadium.  We would finish the day with dinner at the local sports bar, Rafters, where we pigged out on bottomless popcorn buckets and chicken fingers. 

And so as the last few warm days drift away and the trees begin to shed their leaves, I remember the fall afternoons at UMass as if it were yesterday.  People threw the football and drank cheap beer and cooked hot dogs on charcoal grills.  It was simple, but in that moment, all was right in the world. 

xo c