The past week saw the calendar flip from August to September. I could not help thinking about this same time of year as a boy when Labor Day approached and I knew my grandmother would soon be driving my sister and me down to Rhinelander to put us on the Greyhound Bus back to Chicago. Being a perpetually upbeat person, I have to acknowledge a hint of melancholy this time of year due to this recollection. The appearance of fall colors surely provides a trigger. This also spurs my recollection of taking the bus up to Chassell in September in the late 70s before the start of a fall quarter at Michigan State to help my grandmother close the cabin down for the winter and then driving her down to Chicago. Frozen in my memory is heading down US 41 along an icy blue Keweenaw Bay flanked by blazing fall colors to the opening chords of George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord”.