My Dad said that one of the reasons he wanted to become a father was to enjoy childhood again.
Sometimes parents raise children with a desire for them to live out dreams they never saw fulfilled in their own lives. For my Dad, it was the opportunity to experience some of the good stuff all over again.
Growing up in a New York City apartment building, I doubt he ever picked his own pumpkin, but I can't recall an October where my brother and I didn't have one adorning either side of our front door.
This was the first year our five year old decided that she needed to carve one and my Dad would have loved the simple childhood ritual that it entailed.
Trudging out to the muddy field with wagons and "shopping" until she found the perfect one- the size that she could still lift- but just barely.
October is the month that my father died, and sometimes the falling leaves and cooling temperature bring a flood of sadness of what that season held.
This first pumpkin picking of his Grandchildren's generation redeemed it somewhat. As I thought about the carrying of the childhood legacy our parents gave us, and how much he would have loved it.
And how much he would love the way the men of his generation have carried on traditions for him.
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