In the world of baseball, October means the World Series. Two Octobers ago, it meant glory for all White Sox fans. Four perfect games paved the way for an event that hadn’t taken place for 88 years. I watched the winning game with my dad, a Chicago native who got glassy-eyed as the victorious final out approached. He was an eleven-year old boy the last time the Southtown had World Series fever.
Autumnal Art: 20 Tastes
Autumn is my favorite season. Always has been. Sadly, I now live in a climate (southern California) that has only the faintest glimpse of any seasonal changes. Fall in L.A. means the Emmys, a new television season, and USC football. Weatherwise, it might mean a freak thunderstorm and a few random trees changing color.