Autum rembrances . . .

In the Saturday mailbox . . .

I would be remiss if I did not recognize that yesterday was the 143rd anniversary of Will Rogers. The cowboy poet and humorist was born on a ranch near Oologah, Oklahoma (1879) which is a 30 minute drive northeast from my front porch in Tulsa. The art deco designed high school from which I graduated bears his name, and is six city blocks from my writing desk.

Autumn fall is gifting us the hour spring took as we turn back our clocks.

Fall is indeed a comedown . . . There are no more twilights; fall doesn't allow such sentimentality . . . Still, there's one final consolation, handed out like a party favor popped into a child's loot bag to soften the blow of going home, now that the party's over. This weekend, we'll be given an extra hour when we turn back the clocks and relinquish daylight saving. To be sure, it isn't really a gift . . . but saving never manages to be remembered. Only spending has any style. – Joan Gould

And, it's Guy Fawkes Day, celebrated today throughout Britain.