Welcome to May. May 1st. Mayday, May poles, and May baskets for those who believe in the magic of history and tradition. 

Mayday is probably one of those historical traditions that was lost with my parent’s generation. I have vague memories of it from my childhood, putting together baskets and leaving them on doorsteps of friends and neighbors. That was a time when neighbors were your friends, which I’m sure is still true for some, but it seems like a thing that has waned over time. 

My 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Hopper, was a person who wanted those traditions to carry forward with the next generation and taught us about Mayday. We had a celebration in class, danced, and crowned Mayday Princesses. It was my first introduction to a democratic process and Mrs. Hopper’s instruction was to vote for people who didn’t normally get the spotlight. I think she was trying to avoid the typical “popular people” always win sort of thing. 

The best part? I don’t remember who the winners were. We were all in it to have fun and also have a nice break from our regular class instruction. Who wouldn’t want a day of music and laughter over reading, math, and social studies? I mean, I guess it was kind of a social studies lesson but I retained zero about the history, tradition, and where it came from, because, well… that’s the mind of a fourth grader. Ha! 

Anyway, fast forward about 10 years and May 1st is also the day my mom got married (to her 3rd husband) and I was finishing my last semester in the Computer Programming Associate’s Degree program at Iowa Western. I couldn’t care less she was getting married because I’d already moved out and had my sights on escaping Council Bluffs and starting my own life. 

My home life has not been the greatest situation and I didn’t really have a relationship with her new husband. They had been together all through my 4 years of high school. Thinking about it now I wonder what would possess a man to take on dating a woman with 4 children, two in high school, one in elementary, and a brand new infant. Quite literally. My mom gave birth to my youngest sister (by her second husband, newly divorced) right about the time they met. That’s cray! 

Needless to say, it wasn’t the best time and I have a lot of negative feelings about my life then and my mom’s choices. I guess that made it a lot easier for me to say “adios” at the first opportunity. 

Fast forward 31 years to today. They would have been married 31 years, but he passed away last week. It wasn’t unexpected. He’d had Parkinson’s for nine years and though it was a disease that slowly took over his body and mind, the last few months have been a more rapid decline. We had a service and visitation yesterday. There were family members there I haven’t seen in over seven years. It was such a strange day. 

In the grand scheme, it’s a reminder that time is a funny thing, and always slipping away. One day we’re in 4th grade, the next, we’re graduating and moving away from home, and then suddenly it’s 30 years later and we wonder what we did all that time. 

We all make choices and mistakes and bear the weight of that for the rest of our lives until the day we don’t. 

May that day be far off in the distance for those who desire more and very close for those ready for what’s next. 

What’s next?! The Universe only knows. 

Whoa… OK. I think that’s enough existentialist nomnom for one day. Pretty soon, it will be May 2nd, better get cracking!

Peace and Love, 

~Miss SugarCookie