Jay loves the fall, but hates it, too. It's a political thing, trying to maintain the delicate balance of family sensibilities with the need to remain under half a ton overweight.

Fall has some great stuff going for it. There's the wondrous spectacle of the leaves turning orange, red, yellow and whatever. Jay's often seen - and photographed - blue and purple ones - always a joy, and the prospect of cooler days, welcome after having suffered through another of the Deep South's infamous summers.

Sadly, there's the annual Season of Food, too. That's the period of gluttony between summer salad 'cause it's too hot to even eat, and winter comfort snacks in between the hearty soups, stews, and chowders. Jambalaya, even. Jay's always been a person of the large persuasion, some of the time - like now, for instance - holding down the higher end of the category with gusto. It runs in the family, so Jay likes to say he got it honest.

Take Thanksgiving, for example. Much is made of turkey and dressing, but T-giving dinner at Jay's Grandma's house - a tradition that defines traditions - always included copious other food of many kinds for copious guests, all of whom, especially darling Jay, were expected to bestow copious compliments on the chef - chefs, plural, in most cases. Jay's other cooking-inclined relatives brought along their respective specialties and presented them proudly. If there was some to take home, they were saddened, wondering what went wrong with the preparation.

Here's a typical example: You only had three helpings of (whatever) didn't you like it? No kidding, not exaggering one bit! Hey, how ya doing, I brought all your favorites. True, no doubt, and Jay had - well, has - lots of favorites. He's way fond of dessert, though he can put away considerable tonnages of other victuals, too. Then there's the unintentionally backhanded "My, you've gotten a lot bigger since I saw you at (whatever event). Do you want another slice of pie? I made it special 'cause I knew you'd be here."

No kidding, all these are real, quoted from among many sad episodes that haunt Jay's memories. In later years, Jay tried to mitigate the expected consumption in the hope of being able to breathe during the afternoon of wheezing that followed T-day feasts. This plan didn't work. "You're not eating much, are you sick? Let me see if you have a fever. Eat something. You'll feel better." Well, he got it honest, like he says.