Our kids here at the beach got a watered down version of fall, often going from glorious warm October days with mild water temps and sunset surf sessions, to rainy November, with intermittent fog and cold nights. So we would “go” to fall and travel to Mt. San Jacinto or Arrowhead to play in the chilly and damp leaves before the early snow arrived. But it was not the same. I am happy that Jimmy had a chance to experience fall when we lived in Maryland, before moving to Manhattan Beach. We lived at the end of a cul-de-sac on a tree lined street. Maples, Birch, Oak and dozens of other species loomed over our house from the woods in back that bordered a small stream. The sidewalks were lined with evenly planted trees, according to our “planned community” by-laws. But even a planned community couldn’t contain a gang of kids, determined to make the biggest leaf pile in the world and then level it in a matter of seconds. Jimmy loved those leaf fights and the game of staying under the pile the longest. The picture above of Jimmy in a flannel shirt always reminds me that as much as he was a child of the beach, he loved the family traditions of fall leaf fights. It’s those little things that creep into my mind whenever I sit down to share with you.