I grew up in the small town of Detroit Lakes, Minn. Lived
there until the summer before fifth grade. On the lake. Best place to live.
Ever. So much fun. Really hard to move. Thinking back to the move to the Twin
Cities still hurts a little bit. Am I still talking? Sorry.
Anyhoo.
For whatever reason, I have really fond memories of May Day
in Detroit Lakes. It meant cups full of candy (I especially remember those wax
candy soda bottles) and, as far as I remember, warm weather. It meant going
door to door, but for some reason, I don’t remember exactly what happened at
every door. I want to say we rang the doorbell and ran away, but how the heck
do you collect any goodies by doing that? Or maybe we put candy on the doorway,
rang the bell, and then ran? That would make sense, so long as everyone else
did the same thing. The truth is, I honestly don’t remember.
But while I look back fondly on the broad outlines of May
Day, there’s one that’s forever etched in my mind. It wasn’t a pleasant May
Day, but my reaction to it only solidifies my belief that May Day once was
really important. It was in gym class at Rossman Elementary School in Detroit
Lakes. Don’t recall exactly how our class got into trouble, but it was the end
of the day and we had to stand with our noses faces the gym wall. When my mom
came to pick me up at school that day, I distinctly remember saying: “This has
been the worst May Day ever!”
I still remember saying it like it was yesterday, and I felt
at the time that year’s May Day had been wasted. Had I known then what I think
I know now – that May Day is just another day; and that people today don’t seem
to have the appreciation for it they once did – I probably would have been even
more crushed.
Hard-hitting stuff, huh? Anyway, Happy May Day!
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