By Alex Berger
Its name derives from Roman times. Their calendar originally started in March, and November was the ninth month (the name is from the Latin word for “nine”).
Later the Romans added two earlier months, and November became the 11th month. They tried to change the name in honor of Tiberius, the second Roman emperor, who was born in November, but he refused, and the month continued to be known as November.
There was another name-change attempt still later. Since fierce howling winds usually swept over England in November, the Brits almost named the month “Wind-monath” or “Wind-month,” but cooler heads luckily prevailed.
Finally it was argued that November was the month when many animals were killed to provide the populace with food during the upcoming harsh winter. So, it was recommended to name the month “Blood-monath” or “Blood-month.” Ugh! Good thing that name didn't stick, either. Although the name is numerically amiss, we should all be happy that November stayed November.
Some of the celebrated U.S. and international dates that fall in November are: England's Guy Fawkes Day (5), Election Day (second Tuesday of the month), Veterans Day (11), Japan's Shichi-Go-San (15), Thanksgiving Day (the fourth Thursday), and St. Andrew's Day (30).
But there are also a couple of sorrowful November dates: Nov. 9 is the anniversary of the “Night of the Broken Glass” – the infamous Kristall Nacht pogrom of Jews in Germany, viewed by many historians as the beginning of Nazi Germany's systematic mass murder of Europe's Jewry. On Nov. 9, 1938, mobs, urged on by the Nazi government, ran amok throughout Germany and Austria, murdering, looting, smashing Jewish shop windows and burning synagogues and homes. Thirty thousand innocent Jews were arrested. The streets were lined with mounds of glass, resembling glistening snow.
It remains a tragic moment in history, the heralding of the evil of the Holocaust which stained the goodness of man forever.
Also infamous was Nov. 22, 1963. As anyone over age 45 remembers, it was the day that President Kennedy was shot and killed in Dallas.
The president loved music and it was known that every night before he went to sleep, he would listen to music, especially melodies from Broadway shows. He loved the musical “Camelot,” particularly the line: “Don't let it be forgot, that there was once a spot, for one brief shining moment that was known as Camelot.” We all felt that the president and the country lived in a Camelot during his all-too-short administration.
At first no one believed the news. Tears flowed. People spoke in hushed tones, to one another as people do when there is a death in their families. Despite what history's final assessment of him may be, President Kennedy was everybody's hero. The bullets that smashed through his brain shattered the innocence of America.
Although the assassination was 37 years ago, many of us will never forget where we were and what we were doing when the news was announced. (I was at work, engrossed in an important assignment, when a co-worker shouted the news she heard over the radio. My assignment was not important anymore.)
America came to a halt. Most activities were suspended for an entire weekend. Radio and television stations moaned funereal music. The now defunct American Football Conference canceled all football games (the NFL, unashamedly, did not). Streets were lined with mourners. Vice-President Johnson assumed the presidency, sworn in aboard Air Force One on his way to Washington.
Little did we know that this murder was the precursor of other assassinations to come.
There have been other good presidents since Kennedy, but none lived in a place called Camelot.
A final date I better not forget is Nov. 12, Gloria's birthday. I discovered a fail-safe way to remember it. A popular song of the time (and still one of our favorites) was Johnny Mathis' “The Twelfth of Never.” So I would think of the 12 in “Twelfth” and the “N” in “Never” and in “November” and, Voila! the date is recorded forever. My beloved is amazed. She still thinks I have a claptrap memory. Would you believe that I have never missed Gloria's birthday in all 37 years of our marriage? (I have to remember to keep this column away from her.)
Thank you, Johnny Mathis, for helping me remember Gloria's birthday.
Happy birthday again to Gloria, and I hope she never throws out that Mathis album.
