May 1 a week early!

Well, Lisa, I want to give you this little tidbit of info early so you can think about it while you are making your little baskets with your daughter.  Many years ago in a land that time forgot, there was a practice that people had which was really cool.  May Day!  Today the term May Day!  means that something is happening and we need all hands on deck to save the whole damn mess.  World wide it marks Workers Day and led to the first passage of an 8 hour work day.  In ancient times it was a Druid Holiday called Beltane, celebrating the return of warmth to the earth.  Purifying fires were used to assure a clean start.  Romans had a similar holiday called Floralia to celebrate flowers.  They were combined to become our current (or past) May Day celebration.

Here is a quick link for you. 

http://www.lifescript.com/food/articles/article_archive/c/celebrate_spring_with_a_may_day_party.aspx?gclid=CIzwzLSBy68CFbMEQAodiw2PYg&trans=1&du=1&ef_id=sbZPiEpOU3UAAIVt%3a20120423125052%3as 

Ah, but back to Nickerson, Kansas and a great memory.  There was at that time a special rite called the May Pole.  Our teacher constructed a pole with 6 streamers attached to the top that hung way down.  Our job was to take a streamer and skip around the pole thus winding the streamers around the pole and producing a rainbow affect.  Those who were not skipping merrily were to toss flowers at the feet of the skippers.  When the big day arrived the skippers arrived in their finery.  One of the girls was a little bit heavy and much better endowed then the rest of us flat chested flower throwers.  It soon became apparent that dear teacher had not put a lot of thought into the finery the girls were wearing, which consisted of pastel dresses with scoop necks.  Perhaps it was the mother at fault here.

The music began to play.  The girls began to skip.  As the music picked up tempo so did the skippers and so did the chest of Weezer.  As she skipped and bounced it became a spectacle to behold and we stood transfixed in mortal terror that she was going to put out her own eyes.  Some one should have thought the skipping thing through, but I will say this;  It was a lesson well learned for the teacher and all of us who would some day  be blessed.  And it was a memory burned forever into our memories and to our credit and in my knowledge, I do not think anyone ever teased her.  Well, not after the first day or so.  And she finished school just as respected as the day she started.

Fast forward to Huchinson, Kansas and 217 West 5th Street where I lived with my nest full of children.  May Day was on the horizon and the kiddies wanted to make baskets and give them to the neighbors.  So the night before they carefully constructed several baskets and awaited the morning.  I had to work the early morning shift and when I arrived home I was told that the baskets had been a big success.  Well, it seemed so until I found out just where they got the flowers for the baskets.  Seems they took thier little baskets up the street and picked flowers along the way.  Then they came back and hung them on the door handles, knocked and ran away.  Not all the neighbors appreciated a herd of kids tramping around in thier flower beds and harvesting thier bounty.  I think Debbie was the ring leader on that one!

My first neighbor on the West was an old lady whose son was a policeman.  The kids would see her coming from the store and run to carry her bags and help her across the street.  Good little kids or maybe they were just anticipating the need of one day having a friend on the police force.    One day her house was egged.  She was devastated.  How could she hope to get that mess cleaned up?  Being a good neighbor I got a ladder and my kids and I instructed them in the fine art of cleaning up that mess, all the while wondering who in our neighborhood would do such a foul thing.  I found out many years later just who those mean kids were!  I think Debbie was the ring leader on that one also!

So there, Lisa, go tuck the wee one in and cherish this time because I am trying to recall a cross stitch I did years ago that went like this;

Cooking and cleaning can wait for the morrow,

For babies grow up, we learn to our sorrow.

So dust you just lay there, cobwebs go to sleep;

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.