September is a transitional month. Many people are thrilled with return of sweatah weathah and pumpkin spice latte, of which I’m not a fan, but give me a peck of tart, crisp, fall apples and I’m thrilled. Of the 12 months, September and May are my two favorites because, in many ways, they feature some of the nicest weather of the year. Actually, probably September has a bit of an edge on May, which can be cool and rainy. One big difference is that May is a time of growth, but September is just the opposite, a time of change where summer plants start to die, and by the end of the month, people like to hunker down and go into a pseudo-hibernation.
My September memories are frequently tied to my struggles with the start of the school year, something I never shifted into very comfortably each autumn. The new teachers and new and different routines were always hard on me. I’d get homesick at school, which sounds kind of silly now, being long past my school days.
My mom was keenly aware of my difficulty adjusting to the new school year, and when I greatly struggled as I started first grade, my mom began something that would become an annual September tradition. One day, after the start of each school year, my mom would plan a special afternoon together, just for the two of us. When I left for school in the morning, I never knew if it was going to be my special afternoon with mom. When it was that day, I’d get picked up from school and we’d go to the Hadley Village Barn Shops on Route 9, just over the Coolidge Bridge. We’d explore the big barn building with all its giftware and art and craft items, then we’d head next door to the ice cream shop for hot fudge sundaes. Finally, we’d go to either the adjacent pet store where I might get a goldfish or to the nearby toy store where I might pick up a miniature, Matchbox-type, car to add to what is now a massive collection.
This went on all through grammar school and into junior high if I remember properly, although I seem to recall our venue might have changed to one of the local malls because of changes at the “Barn Shops” and my increasing age, although that history is a bit vague in my mind now. Ironically, the afternoons with my mom from elementary school stand out more in my memory. My younger brother, my only other sibling, also got his special day with my mom, too.
I was blessed to have a wonderful mom; she seemed like she had a real knack for understanding the issues in life I was dealing with. One issue that she was left in the dark about was my early gender conflict; she died in 2008 before she ever got to learn that she had a daughter. Maybe, somehow she always knew, but sadly now, I’ll never find out. I happen to be the proud dad of two great and very talented sons. Despite my transition to female, I still consider myself a dad, because, to them, that is what they knew me as. It is also what I was when each came “onto the scene.”
Sadly, they are not really of a part of my life now, a byproduct of all the turmoil surrounding my coming out and my decision to finally live as my female self. I made a choice I knew I had to make, and my boys made a choice, too, I guess. Perhaps, I could attempt to reach out more, too, but sadly, in the past, that has never met with much success. Still, I do have fond memories of doing things with my boys: camping in New Hampshire, taking turns shooting a BB gun at homemade targets in our backyard (and never at animals!), and our weekly visits to a pizza shop in Gorham, Maine. Just the same, despite my dad status, I think I would have been an awesome mom if I’d ever been given the chance. September always reminds me what a terrific role model I had.
Mariel E. Addis is a native of Florence. She left the area for 16 years but returned in 2013.