For much of the world, May Day (May 1) is a Commie holiday. But I remember May Day, eons ago, as the day on which you left flowers on the neighbor lady’s doorstep and ran away.
Truly: Google “May Day baskets.” That was the tradition. Does it endure? I don’t think so. I think I may have been the Last of the Mohicans, when it came to this peculiar form of ding-dong-ditch.
(That’s another ancient tradition.)
I have an Impromptus today: “Anaheim Journal.” It includes Disneyland (of course), baseball (the Angels), and other things. For instance, I have a friend who calls himself a “Disneyland Republican.” He grew up in Anaheim, and appreciated Disneyland’s atmosphere of ordered liberty. This was in stark and sorry contrast with the unsettled atmosphere of Knott’s Berry Farm.
Finally, a couple of students at Claremont McKenna College interviewed me for a podcast, here. They were wonderful. They asked me some questions that required a little self-reflection. Naturally, I punted on those, but the podcast at large may be sort of interesting.
Happy May Day, except for the Reds.