Wit Stop

Autumn Leaves Rest upon My Head Slowly Departing Silently and, alas, Perpetually

Arizona's beauty intensifies when she dresses in her lustrous fall fashions. The iridescent gold and fiery crimson of the Chinese pistache trees, the radiant yellow of the aspen trees, the maple's shimmering scarlet, the brown and delicate pink of the oak - all of these glorious colors combine in nature's final dress-up gala before winter's long nap.I don't envy trees that often. Oh, sometimes I do, like when my wife says, “It's a nice day. Why don't we run over to my mother's?” As a tree I could say, “Gee, I'd love to, darling, but I've got these roots. They make it hard to get around.”I'd say, “Why don't you go on over. I'll stay here and entertain a nest of robins in my hair.” But I do envy trees in autumn. Their foliage becomes a dazzling palette of brown and yellow and orange and scarlet. Like a kaleidoscope, it changes continuously, each new tint more startling than the last.

I envy them this resplendent decoration because, you see, my foliage also is disappearing. It departs with no scintillating display, no glorious last hurrah. It simply goes. Gradually. Silently. Perpetually.

If I could assimilate the chemistry of a tree, though, things would play out differently.

I'd have sex appeal.

“My goodness, your hair is beautiful. What are you doing with it?” a female admirer asks.

“Absolutely nothing,” I say.

She says, “You mean your hair is naturally orange?” “I refer to it as 'Sunburned Blond,' but yes it is my natural hair color-today.”

She asks, “But how do you get it so gorgeous?”

“I have no idea,” I humbly admit. “It's a chemical thing. Happens at this time of year.”

“It's beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I'd have celebrity status.

“Do you know the colors of your hair are so intriguing,” a neighbor says to me.

“I know they are. Thank you.” “I mean, one day your hair is a soft yellow tint, and the next day it transforms into a brilliant reddish color.”

“It's astounding, isn't it?”

“It really is. Would you mind if I invited a few of my friends over to see it? It's so beautiful, it should be shared.” “Well, of course you can invite them,” I say. “In fact, I've got tour buses scheduled all through September and most of October.” This phenomenon would interest even my drinking buddies.

“So, tell me, does it hurt when it changes colors?” one asks.

“No, it happens quite naturally, painlessly.” Another suspects it is not so natural. “Come on, don't kid me. You're coloring that yourself, aren't you?”

“I really am not.”

“Come on, you're using some kind of sissy stuff on there.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Then how can your hair go from brown to yellow to orange to red? How can it do that? Tell me that.” I say, “The same way that the leaves on trees change their colors spontaneously.”

He says, “You ain't no pine tree, pal.”

I explain, “That's true. Pine trees do not change colors and lose their leaves each year. Only deciduous trees do.”

Hey, are you making fun of

me? You step outside, and I'll pull that orange hair right out of your head root by root.” I don't bother to tell him that I refer to this shade as “Sunburned Blond.” I simply get away from him as quickly as I can.

Of course, it would have some drawbacks.

My wife says, “What do you plan to do today?” I say, “I was just going to take it easy. Maybe watch some football on television.” She says, “Don't you think you should get busy and rake up some of this hair from the living room? If we get a real windy day, it could blow all of this into the neighbor's living room.” “All right,” I say. “I'll clean it all up and get a compost pile going in the backyard.” But on the other hand, even my grandson would find it compelling enough to sit and chat with me rather than run off to soccer, baseball, roller blading, or whatever other diversions were currently in season.

“Grandpop, why is your hair that funny color?”

“Do you really think it's funny?”

“Well, it's not the color it was yesterday or the day before that.” “Do you think it's funny when the leaves on the trees turn different colors?”

“Not really.”

“Well this is the same thing. My hair changes from one color to another just like the trees.” “Yeah, but then doesn't it all fall off like the leaves?” “Yes, it does. But it will come back again in spring.”

“But, Grandpop, won't it be green hair, then?”

“I'll settle for any color, kid, so long as it comes back.”