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.
If you’re in the mood to read about music, try this post on The Flying Dutchman (Wagner). Or this one on Der Rosenkavalier (Strauss). Both of those works are now onstage at the Metropolitan Opera.
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.