Today is another lovely fall day with lots of sunshine and a pale blue sky. It got cold last night and was 38˚ by the time I went to bed around 2 am. I watched the Red Sox-Cardinals game which didn’t end until late, and when that happens, I am seldom tired enough for bed. The ending of that game was another strange one: a pick-off at first. Who is foolish enough to get picked off at the bottom of the ninth with two outs, your team losing, but Beltrane at bat? Why a rookie, of course, is the answer. The series is now tied 2-2 with a game tonight in St. Louis then a return to Boston. This series is killing me with its late nights, close games and weird calls.

This morning I stood by the window while the coffee was brewing. I watched dead leaves fall off the big oak tree onto the deck. It was sort of sad in a way. Those leaves had hidden my deck from the neighbors all summer. When I was sitting there, I felt as if I were in a tree house surrounded by green leaves and full boughs. Now I can see almost all the way down to the end of the street from my deck. My friend Clare will soon enough be able to see my den window and know when I’m still awake late at night. The light shines brightly.

When I was in the seventh and eighth grade, I played CYO basketball. That was in the days of weird girls’ basketball rules. I was a guard, and I could only stay on one half of the court. I could bounce the basketball three times but then I had to pass it. Only the forwards could score. I had one trick in my arsenal, and that was I could throw the ball full court. One forward would stay by our basket hoping not to be noticed, and when I got the ball, it went to her and she always scored. That was usually good for a few baskets before the other team guarded her and kept her from the basket. Our coach was a former marine, a former female marine, and she was tough. She didn’t have a warm, fuzzy bone in her body. Every instruction sounded like a command, and we obeyed. In practice, she had a mean whistle which she’d blow then she’d point at the offender. My greatest wish was always that she was pointing at someone else. She made us wear high top sneakers which only came in black back then. I remember there was a circle on the outside of each sneaker and inside the circle was the word Converse. We were always the only team with high tops. All the others had white sneakers, girly white sneakers with pointed toes. We didn’t really care when playing basketball, but we never wore those sneakers anywhere else. They were, after all, boys’ sneakers.

Many, many years later colorful high top sneakers with Converse in the circle on the side became a rage. I bought a pair in bright pink and another pair in purple. Those sneakers had stopped being boys’ sneakers. They had become an element of style. When I organized my closet a while back, I found those sneakers, both pairs. I still think they are really cool. I’m partial to the pink.