JOY ALONG THE WAY: SYNDROMES: PRODUCT OF GENES OR PAST EXPERIENCES?

The older society gets the more new and unusual syndromes it seems to acquire. Syndromes as in a collection of signs and symptoms that collectively indicate some kind of disorder. Just yesterday I heard of one called S.A.D. I've forgotten what the initials stand for but the word, sad, seems to describe the affliction. It comes on in the fall they say and, perhaps, has something to do with diminishing sunlight and being more confined to indoors.

I'm happy to say that as much as I like to be out in the sunshine with the birds, flowers, squirrels, butterflies, wandering cats and dogs, I do not suffer from S.A.D.

I think this is because, in my early years, I felt the tremendous satisfaction of preparing to be snugged in for the cold months, the harvesting and storing of food that would last us all winter, the trips into the hills for several loads of wood that would keep us warm, the repairing of broken or missing boards on the barn, chicken house and pig and dog pens so these animals, too, would stay warm.

On wintry nights when we heard the wind driving pellets of sleet against the windows, we did not awaken and wonder if there was enough milk in the refrigerator. No refrigerators. Enough bread? The cows were keeping the milk warm and loaves of bread were made from the 100 pounds of flour we kept on hand. Enough vegetables? Weren't we glad we'd spent those happy sunshiny days of summer for when the sleet would swirl. Let it swirl, crack, threaten! WE had outwitted it.

We knew that Tabby Cat has a secret entrance into the attic. Often heard her come in from the cold. Even if the well froze overnight, we knew that we had carried in extra buckets of water, one of which could be heated on the stove to thaw the well.

With that background I shall not be saddened by the diminishing sunlight. I still take pleasure in preparing for the cold, shortened days. I do it leisurely so as to feel each day the satisfaction of accomplishment. The furnace man has been called to come and make sure the old faithful heater is in good working conditions. Not quite as theatrical as having a big pile of wood in the back yard, but a huge bit more convenient. New times, new preparations. But still satisfying. Larger watt bulbs have been purchased and stored. I still light some old kerosene lamps at dusk though, just to enjoy the nostalgic whiff of smoke when I blow them out. Multicolored and perfumed candles are in nearly every drawer.

I may take half a day to bring in one philodendron, groom and shape it, wash the leaves, maybe even change the pot--talking to it all the time, of course, "Did you enjoy your vacation on the porch this summer? My, how you've grown. I suppose you liked the Miracle-Gro. Here's a leaf at least three inches across. Let's see, now, you were on the stand where the eastern sunshine shone on you last winter. I'll put you where you'll enjoy the western sunshine this winter."

The car has been winterized, a long way from taking the big farm wagon to the river and driving the wheels into the water so the wooden spokes would swell to again fit the metal rims.

The flannelette nightgowns have been washed and fluffed and folded with sachets of lavender so the first night the temperature drops below 32 degrees, I'll be ready. Every day, something new to do. No time for S.A.D. around her. More like Shaping A Day.

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime columnist for the Southeast Missourian.