May 4, 2005
May
Now it's time to celebrate May. Last month I sang the praises of April, that special month when Major League Baseball begins and Daylight Savings Time arrives. Blessed days to be sure. Well pholks, I was doing a little day dreaming the other day-not a regular practice, mind you, but something I try and do when time and opportunity are available.
May, which falls between my beloved April and June, another special month, marking my birthday and graduation anniversaries, holds lots of special memories for me. A little background might serve well to illustrate how my Mays differed from most people of my era.
I grew up in a small community and the grammar school sat atop a hill. Softball diamond foul lines went downhill and the two-room school building was only about 30 feet past second base. A short playable outfield.
But one of the high points in the school year came in mid to late May when the grassy hillside dried and began to turn brown. That meant the time for sliding down the hillside on homemade sleds, some made of cardboard, and others from wooden planks but none containing metal. That rule was rigidly enforced.
Mothers of the 25 to 35 students (various numbers depending on the year) were all candle less. Kids used birthday candles, canning paraffin and anything else to "wax down" their sleds. Remember pholks, this was before the surfing craze, which was to come about a dozen years later. I didn't surf nor skate board. I'm not sorry. But skinned knees and scabbed shins and bruised butts and elbows were badges of courage. A few moms proudly showed off their scars while going to the General Store to buy more candles and canning wax. The morning, noon and afternoon recesses were devoted to sledding for a week to 10 days, or until all the sledible grass was used up. Sliding on raw dirt just didn't get it, although there were always a couple "older guys" who grunted it out, digging ruts which miraculously healed by the next year's "grass sliding" season.
During high school May meant the wrap up of sports--baseball track, tennis and cross-country. Graduation was nearing. If not for you it was a brother, sister, neighbor, cousin, or best friend. Of course May meant finals but that didn't worry me too much. All those other months had taken their toll on my grades. Sometime yearbooks arrived in late May but generally it was early June. But late May meant that time was near. And yearbook signing is part of American culture. A great time capsule. If you don't believe that just dig out your old annuals and read the signatures. Looking back on them now a person gets a pretty good idea of what kind of what kind of person you really were. It is eye opening.
In college, May was great for parties. College life 101. I have some semi-fond memories of long weekends, which got off to rousing starts moments after the last Friday class. But that pholks is a separate story. I did not get arrested nor was I hospitalized. I remember that.
May also means Memorial Day. I didn't go on trips, but I never missed the Indy 500. For as long as I can remember, I have listened to or watched "the greatest show in racing" on the last weekend in May. My father loved it. He always wanted to see that race. He never missed a broadcast. He never got to go .I still listen and watch. Probably won't get to go either. Another great thing about May is that girls and women dress a lot better. Shorts and cutoff jeans are a sure sign of May. I still look but now there a lot of "older women" who look good. Looking at "girls" over the age of 35 gets off to a good start in mid to late May.
Of course Mother Nature is at her best in April and May and evenings are nearing their prime time. May might not be the best month of the year, but it holds a lot of good memories-and prospects hopefully for more.
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