Of Pagan Celebrations

1º 34.642s 126º 24.004w

Wed May 01 2019

When we were little kids, we lived in Brevard, North Carolina on the campus of a small junior college. Dad and mom both worked at Brevard College, he the Director of Admissions, she as an English teacher. Somewhere there’s an old black and white photo of me as a little boy, sandy blond hair, dressed in a white suit and bowtie escorting Tammi Keeter at the college May Day celebration. We must have been tiny little mascots or something. As I recall, May Day originated as some sort of Pagan holiday with May Pole rituals and such. I can still remember the college girls and boys doing this funny dance, weaving ribbons around a tall vertical pole to create a criss-cross pattern while the music played.

Kirk and I had a little sister, Lisa. She and I have always been close, and I have dim but tender memories of teaching her to walk. However, Kirk and I were also mean little boys and rather inventive. We used to run a string under a big rug in the living room, attached to a mouse trap we’d set, and we would hide behind the sofa and wait patiently. Lisa would toddle into the room, we’d pull the string, the trap would snap loudly and startle her, and she’d cry her eyes out.

Lisa has been a professional landscaper for the last 30 years or so, looking after billionaire’s estates on Cape Cod. She’s a strong and determined woman, and if we pulled a stunt like that now she would likely twist us both into something that would resemble broken pretzels.

She’s a force of nature. She’s raised two daughters, both pretty and smart, and both taught sailing as teenagers. Ali is pursuing a career in New York City, Chuckie graduates from university in a few days. Hard working girls, and Chuckie has an itchy “gotta travel and seek adventure” streak in her. We’re hoping she’ll visit us in French Polynesia in the next year or two.

Today is May 1st. My sister’s birthday. She’s 29. Again.

Happy May Day, Weezer!