by Kerry Schafer
When I first sat down to write this, my plan was to focus on gratitude, given that it’s November, and the highlight of November is Thanksgiving. It seemed like the obvious choice, until I started thinking (one of my fatal flaws) and realized something I’d never thought about before: October is the “spooky season” month, but November, taken as a whole, might actually be the scariest month of the year. Hear me out.
First off, here in the north country, it is now officially winter. Yes, I know the calendar says winter starts on some ridiculous day like Dec. 21, but we all know that’s a bunch of bull hockey. Halloween ends, and winter begins. Nobody ever wrote it down, but that is the rule. Some years we already have snow. The leaves have fallen, most of the birds have flown south, and everything green and growing has given up the fight for life and surrendered to the inevitable.
Also, it’s dark. And cold. It’s going to be both of those things for months. Also, we’re looking at the reality of snow. Shoveling. Plowing. Roof raking. Or, alternately, there won’t be very much snow, and the drought is going to continue.
We also get to “fall back” in November, as if that cute little slogan will make the process fun somehow, like a trust building activity at a team retreat. My dogs don’t get the memo that the clocks have changed. They’ve got a wake-up time (4 a.m.), breakfast, and dinner built into their DNA. They know what they know. There will be huffing. Staring. Whining. Possibly a revolt. My own biorhythm won’t behave much better. It knows when it’s 8 p.m. and 4 a.m. (I did mention that’s when the dogs wake up, right?) and it also strenuously resists any changes.
As for the clocks themselves, there ought to be a specific helpline devoted to changing the time in our vehicles. Last year I just didn’t bother. Sooner or later, the clock in my truck will be right again.
And then, when we’re trying not to be depressed about winter and we’re disoriented and sleep deprived from the fun of falling back, obviously it’s the perfect time for a polarizing election, and we all get to worry more than we already are about the state of the nation.
After all that comes Thanksgiving.
“Yes! That makes up for all of the other unpleasantness, surely? November’s redeeming quality?”
Honesty compels me to point out that there is inevitably that one person at any gathering who pushes your buttons. Maybe a parent, a sibling, or your very own offspring. You’ve got a selection of people with a long history of unresolved differences all crammed into the same space. Add alcohol. Somebody is going to blow up. Alternately, someone you love, or even everybody you love, is absent from the celebration.
And then, there’s Black Friday. Do we really have to call it that? Freebie Friday, or even Frenzied Friday would be better. On Thursday, we focus, more or less successfully, on being thankful for food and shelter and family and whatever, and then on Friday, instead of reveling in leftover turkey and pie, still basking in the glow of goodwill, we’re supposed to drag ourselves out of bed early and go fight each other over material possessions. Riots and stampedes. Fights over parking spaces and merchandise. People have died over a Black Friday sale. Others have been injured. Personally, I feel I’d be permanently scarred just by encountering a crowd that early in the morning.
That’s one way of looking at it. Let’s try another.
I’ve always loved this quote from Shakespeare: “Nothing is ever good or bad but thinking makes it so.”
How we experience any event depends on the filter through which we’re looking.
Everything I’ve said about November is true. But I could have just as easily made a case for it being the best month of the year, by focusing on the things that I love.
I love the swish and crunch of walking through fallen leaves, and that delightful
crispness in the morning air. The smell of snow and the brilliance of stars in a winter sky. The bliss of reading or napping in the radiant heat from a fire. The crackling of the flames. Candles flickering in a dark window.
I love the first snow and the way it transforms the barrenness of November earth into something sparkling and magical.
Even falling back isn’t all bad. It’s a perfect opportunity to put new batteries in the clocks and fix the one in the kitchen that is currently running 15 minutes slow. And my body, and the dogs, can adapt. If I went on a vacation, I’d give myself a day to adjust to the time change and then I’d be over it already. I certainly wouldn’t spend the next month complaining about my jet lag. No reason that falling back should be any different.
As for Thanksgiving, I love seeing family and friends that I don’t often get to spend time with, and it’s wonderful when they come to visit. Sure, sometimes we push each other’s buttons, but that’s a small price to pay for the pleasure of swapping old stories and laughing, maybe even crying, with the people I love who have known me since forever.
And the food. The mashed potatoes and gravy. The turkey, the ham, the fresh homemade rolls (my grandmother’s recipe, made in her baking pans), and the pies; all of it tasting even better as leftovers the next day.
It seems I’ve come full circle and this article is about gratitude after all. I’m making a conscious choice to focus on all that is good and beautiful, on love and laughter and friendship and good food. Which November are you going to choose?
Colville resident Kerry Schafer (who also writes as Kerry Anne King) is the bestselling author of 15 novels, the co-host of The One Happy Thing Podcast, and a licensed mental health counselor. Find out more at www.allthingskerry.com.
