I am a big fan of May 1st.
First of all, you really can get down with it and use it as a pun in a ton of conversations. For example, I could easily see you in the elevator and say to you, “May I be the first to say hello to you on this fine Saturday?”
Or I could just as easily meet you in a library where you were reading books about the Pilgrims and I could lean over casually and say, “Did you know that the Pilgrims came over to this country on the Mayflower-fer-sssssst?”
As I walked quietly through a huge forest of fir trees with my honey, I could look up to the sky and the heavens where (someday, but please not so soon) my mother will rest at the end of her days, and say to my honey as I reflected upon the life of my mother and this beautiful forest and how she looked after me in the troubling times that I struggled with tourettes syndrome… “Ma, fir…sssst,” where the “ssssst” sound is the remnants of my low-grade tourettes issues… I say, hey, at least I’m only letting “sssst” sounds out instead of shouting obscenities. You know?
At the same time, May 1st also has a deep and stressful meaning for me here on WFME. It means that no longer can you gaze at my beautiful calendar at the top right and have weeks of entries to click on and read. Now, there is only ONE. And as we know, being readers of blogs, to have to click on the damn archive link and see a month full of posts in front of our eyes and have to weed through them — well, we’d just rather not do it.
May 1st also means that it’s about to get hotter and that I will soon find myself sleeping on top of the covers, WITH the fan going and one leg desperately draped over the edge of the bed, reaching towards the cool floor in an attempt to sleep a full night.
May 1st means a lot of things to a lot of people. But to me, most of all, it reminds me that the Pilgrims were great sailors with an awesome talent for finding land.
And for that, we must be thankful.
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