November gets pushed on both ends. Vestiges of Halloween creep into that first week with gaudy orange lights and oversized fake cobwebs hanging around. Scarecrows protecting no crops whatsoever clutter some suburban yards like athletes who don’t know when to retire. Their time has come and gone, yet they remain, battered by rain and wind, and looking less appropriate each week. More fitting displays of hay bales and pumpkins herald the harvest time. 

Traditionally November had its own rituals—a time to bring in porch furniture, put away screens and wash the outsides of the windows one last time. Fall cleaning took inventory and made room for the hoopla to come. Flowers and vegetable beds were stripped and those who can, canned. The mix of unseasonably warm days and chilly rainy ones provided time for both outdoor and indoor tasks. Newer November traditions focus on shopping and decorating for Christmas. Thanksgiving, the very centerpiece of the eleventh month of the year, seems for many, to be in the way. The fact that Thanksgiving is a holiday in its own rite appears not to matter. Folks talk about it being early or late and how that impacts the shopping. The celebration of family and faith “Thanks Giving” continues to erode. 

The dinner of the year, painstakingly prepared by cooks and non-cooks alike, is disrupted by retail work schedules. Family Turkey Bowls, relaxing after-dinner conversation and games give way to scanning the ads and making a strategic plan. The ubiquitous Black Friday has crossed the line onto Thanksgiving Day itself. People in various regions of the country—even the cold ones—spend part of the Thanksgiving holiday lined up for hours outside stores to be among the first to get the deals. Competition to get the latest electronic gadget is fierce. Less aggressive types need not appear. 

Like a middle child, November gets little attention unless it acts up by sending unexpected severe weather--and that attention comes in the form of complaints. Thirty days—trapped in the vice between October and December leave NO vember at all. 

Lilly Kauffman is a non-fiction writer who was privileged to work as both librarian and a teacher. Her essays, whether serious or humorous, capture the experiences that allow us to laugh and grieve. Family and faith inform her writings. She is currently working on several book projects: A Mother Grieves in Ink, Ampersand, and Lil Letters.