Octoberfester

You couldn't have planned it better: Seattle's first day of real rain — cold, heavy, oppressive rain — came on the very last day of September, which happened to fall on a Sunday, and also happened to be the last day of the regular baseball season. Watching the last Mariners game in a dark house against the background noise of heavy rain on the roof was, somehow, perfect. (As Tom Waits observed, the rain sounds like a round of applause.)

Transitions don't get much tighter than that. This year, September's dissolve into October was more of a jump-cut. And it hammered home just how much, over the last four or five years, I've come to love October.

By all rights, October should be my least favorite month, given my love of summer and all the things that come with it. The cold, wet darkness of autumn in Seattle should be anathema to me (and on that point, autumn in Seattle only lasts one month: September is really late-summer, and November is dead-of-winter). But somehow, every year I'm surprised at how warmly I embrace this segue into darkness.

For one thing, the heat comes back on and the warm clothes come back out. There are few things as comforting as the roar of our jet-engine furnace and the squeeze of thick socks. And then there's post-season baseball, which I admit hasn't been of much interest to me since the disasters of '03 and the miracles of '04. But this year, the Cubbies, D-Backs, and Indians are all in it, which is more than enough to make me sit up and pay attention.

But I think the real reason I love October — at least, the thing that seals the deal — is the prospect of a whole month of nonstop horror movies. The rest of the year, I'm not much inclined to focus on the gory and the macabre. But on October 1, when the temperatures drop, the clouds roll in low, and the darkness settles in, I want three things: Couch. Blanket. Zombies.

I don't own many horror movies on DVD, nor do I go out and rent them. No, each October, I put the Tivo to work. I search the late-night schedules, looking for creepy Italian giallo horror like Tenebrae and Suspiria, unnerving 1960s black-and-whites like The Haunting and Carnival of Souls, and “Terror in the Aisles” stalwarts like Carrie, Alone in the Dark, and Scanners. And once a year, please, give me Devil's Rain.

Two postscripts:

1. The 2007 Mariners. The Season of Almost. When you look at their stats, their record, the strength of their bullpen, and the even distribution of offensive production throughout their lineup (notably, from the bench), it's hard not to lament that this year they were really just one starting pitcher away from the postseason. And I'm not talking about an ace here — a 12-game winner would have done the trick. Just swap Horacio Ramirez for a Joe Blanton or a Scott Kazmir. Or swap Jeff Weaver for, say, Jered Weaver. 88 wins becomes 94 wins, and a Wild Card spot if not a division title.

2. Miss Moneypenny. Lois Maxwell died over the weekend. I never knew she was Canadian — which means that of all the original Bond regulars, Bernard Lee was the only Englishman (Sean Connery is Scottish, Desmond Llewelyn was Welsh). She was also in The Haunting. So there. Pulled it full circle, didn't I?