tedwords

Friday was May Day, otherwise known as the first day of May. What a quaint tradition May Day is: a really old festival of Spring I don’t think anyone in the States really thinks of any more, although I think it’s much bigger in Europe. Maybe it would have been bigger, had it gone the way of Saturnalia and just been renamed Christmas. Clearly it had the wrong marketer.  

May Day also happens to be the birthday of my grandmother, who would have been 106 this year. She passed away in 2004, sixteen years ago. 

The first of May is an easy birthdate to remember, so when I woke up that morning, I actually did say “Happy birthday” to myself, but then the thought passed away in the crushing flow of what needed to get done that day and the underlying COVID-inspired sanctuary malaise that seems to hover over everything these days. 

My brother Tommy, who is much more thoughtful about these things, posted a lovely photo of Nana as a teenager on our “personal Facebook” family page: it’s actually a text message string Dad created a year ago that includes all the kids and mom and dad, where he posts daily photos. Dad and Mom are not into social media and this is the closest they come and I kind of love it. The photo of Nana that Tommy posted hangs on our wall of memories outside the front door of Green Victoria. 

The minute I saw it, I stopped what I was doing and walked over to give Nana a quick kiss and tell her I loved her.