Although the daytime temperatures still feel like summer, the daytime allotment of sunlight, the rotation towards the south of my “morning sun” chair, and the shift in color palette of the trees indicate fall is upon us. Soon our sun kissed skin will fade a shade or two, once domesticated bikini lines will run feral under the cover of denim, and our favorite flannels will emerge, disfigured with hanger bumps, from the depths of our closets.

Until then, enjoy the tattered remnants of summer sun and all that this time of year brings. The change of season does us good, it offers a reprieve from sandal season, exiling all our nasty gnarled and nicked up hooves into the dark depths of socks and sensible footwear.

Speaking of “gnarled and nicked up”, we are wading into homecoming season, that time of year when college campuses are waist deep in alumni. The commonality of “place” offering an opportunity for spans of generations to come together to see what has become of the spaces and faces they shared their time with. Something I did not appreciate or think much of when it was my time in that space.

I suppose that’s the way of it. The young looking forward, the old looking back, while the infinite present sometimes slips by unnoticed.

Dawn and I try and get back to homecoming at Northern State University in Aberdeen as often as time allows. Homecoming at NSU has been referred to as “Gypsy Days” since 1914, a name that has understandably taken some flak over the years and was briefly “officially” done away with around 2019. Done away with until some prominent stakeholders “suggested” otherwise. So it remains. So it goes.

This year’s homecoming was a special one for my wife Dawn, as the 1992-93 Women’s Track team was inducted into the Northern State University Athletic Hall of Fame. The university did a fine job recognizing and honoring these women for their accomplishments. It was a special couple of days, and I am quite proud of Dawn and happy for her and her teammates.

Jackson, our son, was also able to join us for the weekend and be a part of celebrating his mom’s induction. He tolerated, and even claimed to enjoy, strolling down many a memory lane with his Madre and Padre. A tolerance and enjoyment that may have been influenced by the fact that some of those lanes were neon lit with barstool seating. A good time shared with good people is a good time indeed.

I have noticed a mildly disturbing trend the last five years or so at homecoming with the fine folks of our generation, a trend of laughing fun filled Friday nights where you look at the clock and say, “It’s already 1:00AM”, and subdued Saturday nights where you look at the clock and say, “It’s only 6:00PM.”

One by one the old wolves, bright-eyed and bushy tailed a mere 24-hours ago, shuffle off to their dens to lick their wounds and try and stay awake long enough to see if they can answer the Final Jeopardy question.

To all the young punks on campus, “As you are, we once were. As we are, you will someday be.” Soak it in.