Henrietta Hay's Column

There are some weeks when a writer's mind simply shuts down. Completely. Cold. Nothing surfaces. This is my week for shutdown. I can't even decide what to eat for breakfast and that is as near a standard procedure as anything in life. I would think that I am alone with this problem, but I find that not only writers but also all kinds of people suffer from the syndrome from time to time.

I think I have Fall Fever, closely related to but more serious than Spring Fever. I get it every year in September and here on the Western Slope it is so acute that there is no vaccine that works. This is the most beautiful season of the year and needs to be savored and enjoyed and treasured against the coming winter. That, of course, means sitting in the sun watching the tomatoes ripen and avoiding things like word processors.

There are other theories, though. My friend the philosopher says that those weeks when the mind turns off are caused by Daylight Savings Time. Another friend commented, "What makes you think you're supposed to be having fun all the time?" And still another, about whose health I casually inquired, bitterly bemoaned her miserable week and said, "Is the moon full?" As it turned out, yes it was.

How about the moon? Could the Harvest Moon be contributing to Fall Fever? After all, something that can help move the oceans up and down twice a day to create the tides might have some influence on brains. The ancients certainly thought so as they worshipped the Moon Goddess, and untold numbers of moderns believe it.

I think I'll suspend judgment on the influence of the moon, but I do find myself wondering whether the cavemen had to stop creating their hyroglyphics whenever the moon was full. And do you suppose Beethoven stopped hearing sounds in his head one night a month?

Since this is a week for random wonderings, I wonder how the children of the world will get along without Dr. Seuss. Of course they really won't have to. He will live as long as there are books and children. But there won't be any more new books of his, and that is very sad. On the other hand, think how wonderful it is for a man to live for 87 years and have millions of spiritual descendents all over the world. When I read of his death I wanted to sit down with a couple of my old favorites and read them for the umpteenth time, but, of course, there were none in the house. When my sons left home they left behind the Hardy Boys and the fairy tales and the nature books, and their college texts on history and philosophy, but they took all their well-worn copies of Dr. Seuss, including those they had to hold together with tape.

I don't know which was my favorite. Maybe it was The Cat in the Hat. No, I think it was Horton Hears a Who. Nah - it was Green Eggs and Ham. Oh well, that's the problem with Dr. Seuss. You love them all. As an adult I must confess I liked The Seven Lady Godivas the best. Anyway, thanks, Dr. Seuss. There are a few amusing tidbits from the news of this arid week. For instance, there is absolutely nothing new under the sun. Move over, macho men. You're way behind the times. In Austria a mummified body was found on a glacier's edge wearing tattoos, dressed in leather and packing a knife. Scholars say it is at least 4000 years old, an early Bronze Age male. They say that he was between 20 and 40 years old and a good mountain climber.

In case you are interested, and you probably aren't, the geographical center of the United States has been established again in Kansas. It is the point where the U. S. would be perfectly balanced - on the head of a pin, no doubt - if all Americans were of the same weight! Honest, I read that in the newspaper.

And on the bright side of the week, the latest news is that Powderhorn will probably be open this winter. That is great news to the skiers, and by the time snow flies Fall Fever will be over and you can all slide down the hill with your usual enthusiasm. Notice I said "you."

The good thing about Fall Fever is that it doesn't last long. I have it on good authority that all brains will return to normal with the first frost.