I missed May Day? Dang it.

I find it odd that, as a child, May Day was a pretty big deal around our parts (that is, small town America), but I haven’t heard a thing about it for years.

We’d decorate little baskets (often handmade out of colored construction paper, if I recall), fill them with treats, then get carted around town in the station wagon so we could drop the May Baskets off on unsuspecting porches, ring the door bell, then run.  If you were caught, a kiss was exchanged, according to tradition.

It’s the perfect holiday.  Crafts with the kids, a little mischievous mayhem, minimal travel (in most cases, see below), and kisses.  Pretending to trip and fall after ringing the bell and running from the cute boy’s house was perfectly acceptable.

One year, when I was just a youngin’, my Dad flew me into the neighboring small town to deliver May Baskets to my Grandparents, his parents.  I’m not quite sure how word got around (who am I kidding), but the press, which consisted of one reporter outfitted with a camera, was ready and waiting at the airport when we arrived.  We made the front page of the Independent newspaper that week!  If I was a bit closer to home, I’d have searched through my scrapbook (remember those?) and posted it here.

Did you celebrate?  Do you have any fun May Day memories?

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