Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! Today is the first day of May. Having watched numerous television shows in my youth where the pilot or ship’s captain grabs up his microphone and utters those three words in hopes of rescue, every May 1st, I’m reminded of those dramatic scenes of video terror.Of course, I would never actually utter this standard distress call in real life (I’m neither pilot nor ship’s captain) … since making a false distress call is a federal offense.
Instead, I’ll just go with uttering Maypole! Maypole! Maypole! It’s not a call for help but I look at the maypole as an interesting tidbit of forgotten culture and a curious item for me. I haven’t seen a maypole dance / celebration since I was a little girl! Which is too bad because I recall it was an entertaining activity.
Living in Arkansas, we have lots of festivals and celebratory occasions. Earlier today, I was showing my grandson a video for the toad race at Conway’s annual Toad Suck Daze. (Sadly, not a maypole in sight!) Is there a five-year-old anywhere who’d choose a maypole over a toad race? I think not.
Since #NaPoWriMo 2015 has been concluded – celebrating Poetry during the month of April – poetry hasn’t been much on my mind today. However, I pulled out another Jaleen I’d written many long years ago.
Some readers may recall I posted twice last year (here and here) with examples of the form. Talking with my grandson about the toad race, I was reminded of another little guy (his daddy) and the Jaleen I wrote when he was quite small. Those days are long gone but I have the poem to remind me those days vanished too fast.