Originally created 11/19/02

Cooler temperatures snap us into November

Experience: A comb life gives you after you lose your hair.

- Judith Stern

What is there about the first cold snap of the season that causes us to face it with disbelief?

The newspaper and the TV weathermen told us it was going to turn cold over the weekend, but I still dressed for church as though it were September.

I took my son to the movies Sunday afternoon, then to Columbia County's fairgrounds to see the American Veterans Traveling Tribute Wall.

The temperature was in the mid-40s, and the wind was cold and gusty. We know because we were wearing the lightest of jackets.

We finally hustled back to the car shivering and drove home with the heater full blast.

It has gotten cold.

It has become November, and we just don't want to acknowledge it.

Maybe we can't believe that Thanksgiving is here and Christmas is racing right behind it.

Maybe we don't want to drag all the woolly-wear out of the closets.

Maybe we just don't want to let summer go.

But we have to.

* * *

SPORTS IRONY: Historians know golfer Bobby Jones called his putter "Calamity Jane." That famous club now resides at the Augusta National Golf Club, which Mr. Jones co-founded 70 years ago.

Most of you remember that Calamity Jane was the nickname of a Wild West heroine of the 1800s. But do you know Calamity Jane's real name?

She was born Martha Cannery and married a man named Clinton Burk in 1885 making her ... Martha Burk, a name becoming well known in Augusta lately.

* * *

TODAY'S JOKE: Here's one passed along by Bill Cooper:

A photographer for a national magazine was assigned to take pictures of a large forest fire. He was told that a small plane would be waiting to fly him over the fire.

The photographer arrived at the airport just an hour before sundown. Sure enough, a small Cessna airplane was waiting. He jumped in with his equipment and shouted, "Let's go!"

The tense man sitting in the pilot's seat swung the plane into the wind and soon they were in the air, though flying erratically.

"Fly over the north side of the fire," said the photographer, "and make several low-level passes."

"Why?" asked the nervous pilot.

"Because I'm going to take pictures!" yelled the photographer. "I'm a photographer, and photographers take pictures."

After a long pause, the pilot replied, "You mean you're not my instructor?"

Reach Bill Kirby at (706) 823-3344 or bkirby@augustachronicle.com.


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