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| Photo Courtesy of Google Images |
Ahh May Day.
The memories this morning brings me are of my old neighborhood. Small, imaginative, and excited about
taking part in anything and everything I remember waking-up and getting out the
boxes of markers and colored construction paper, creating tiny cone-shaped baskets with
fragile paper handles and filling them with any candy that I could find laying
around the house and small trinkets that I could bear to part with. All the while keeping a keen ear turned
towards the door hoping the hear the doorbell and reach the front stoop before
one of my sisters could beat me to the tiny basket that would take the place of its carrier.
We made just enough for our friends and any neighbors that
we weren’t dreadfully afraid of upsetting. Then we’d take our baskets, crouch behind a shrub and wait
for the perfect moment to make our entries followed by a sudden
disappearance. We took it to a
level where our skills in the games of spies and ding-dong ditch were tested at
their up-most importance. Getting
caught wasn’t an option, and being seen was the equivalent of having your
fingers slammed sneaking a cookie from the jar.
Once the coast was decidedly clear we would carefully place
the basket in the center of the stoop, angle our body away from the door ready
to sprint, ring the bell, and take off around the corner to the opposite side
of the house. Once all of our
baskets were successfully delivered, we would run home and wait by the door in
hopes of catching our own may-dayers in the act.
It is our duty as a generation of successful MayDayees to
pass on our own secrets for success.
May the best tactic win :)
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