Wow. September has flown by.

When the month started, I was 24 years old, was covering minor league baseball, my sister lived at home, the Mets weren't so much in contention, prime-time TV was all reruns, Notre Dame hadn't lost a football game, and the Empire State Building was the third-tallest building in New York.

I also had never been to Johnstown or Greensburg or Pittsburgh, Pa. I didn't know how fat T.C. was or what Moom or Dood were like, or how crazy I am for this girl.

I was looking through some photos -- old and recent -- today as I try to organize them. I realized I hadn't yet put my photos from my trip to Seattle and Oregon into an album. That trip was during August 2000. I have scores of photos sitting in boxes that need to be better displayed, either in frames or albums. And as I looked through some pictures taken at the BlueClaws' game on my birthday, I realized that it was just four weeks ago today when I sat on the outfield berm with Dave, Dave, Mia, Jess, Amy and Jaime. It was three days before Casey came for what turned into a two-week visit during which we watched the world change.

September 2001 will be remembered by millions of people for a lot more reasons than my reaching the quarter-century mark.

And now, minutes from October, I look forward to the coming days and weeks and months, the smell of autumn, the chill in the air, the coming holidays. Autumn rejuvinates me. I'm inspired to write, inspired to shoot more photos, inspired to travel and visit new places.

This should be the season of rebirth. I think it is for me.