Happy May Day! 
I grew up in Minnesota. Where we played Duck, Duck, Gray Duck NOT Duck, Duck, Goose but that's a debate for another day. Where was I? oh yeah, May Day.
In Minnesota, well, Elk River anyways, we put together May Day Baskets filled with treats. The baskets were usually really fancy- Dixie Cups. (Not as fancy as shown above) We would bring them to our friends doorstep, ring the bell and run away. Our friends would then try to catch us as we ran away. If they caught us, they got to kiss us.
May Day is not for sissies. It can be a dangerous tradition. I should know. When I was 5 years old my May Day delivery landed me with 80 stitches.
I decided to deliver a basket to my friend, Stacy Dargis. (Total side note: Congrats to Stacy on the arrival of her daughter just this Tuesday!) Her house had a little breezeway/porch between the exterior door and the door that went into her house. The exterior door was a swinging door. The kind that was metal on the bottom half and a window/screen on the top.
I walked into the breezeway, dropped off the basket, ran the doorbell, and turned to run away. As I got to the exterior door of the breezeway I pushed the door open at the window. My grandparents had a door like that and their's swung right open. Stacy's did not. My arms pushed straight through the plate glass shattering it into a million pieces.
The rest is a little hazy. I remember there was alot of blood. I remember wrapping dish towels adorned with big orange, yellow and green flowers on them around my wrist with pressure. I remember singing 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer' over and over with my mom as we went to the Dr.
When all was said and done I had 80 stitches that ran outside my left arm from the top of my wrist down to my elbow. The scar has faded in the middle in the last 28 years, but you can still see it at the top and the bottom.
I did go back to the neighborhood after the stitches and delivered the rest of my May Baskets. I'm a trooper! Although I thoroughly enjoyed the fact that my injury prevented anyone from chasing me.
I told you, May Day is not for sissies.
I grew up in Minnesota. Where we played Duck, Duck, Gray Duck NOT Duck, Duck, Goose but that's a debate for another day. Where was I? oh yeah, May Day.In Minnesota, well, Elk River anyways, we put together May Day Baskets filled with treats. The baskets were usually really fancy- Dixie Cups. (Not as fancy as shown above) We would bring them to our friends doorstep, ring the bell and run away. Our friends would then try to catch us as we ran away. If they caught us, they got to kiss us.
May Day is not for sissies. It can be a dangerous tradition. I should know. When I was 5 years old my May Day delivery landed me with 80 stitches.
I decided to deliver a basket to my friend, Stacy Dargis. (Total side note: Congrats to Stacy on the arrival of her daughter just this Tuesday!) Her house had a little breezeway/porch between the exterior door and the door that went into her house. The exterior door was a swinging door. The kind that was metal on the bottom half and a window/screen on the top.
I walked into the breezeway, dropped off the basket, ran the doorbell, and turned to run away. As I got to the exterior door of the breezeway I pushed the door open at the window. My grandparents had a door like that and their's swung right open. Stacy's did not. My arms pushed straight through the plate glass shattering it into a million pieces.
The rest is a little hazy. I remember there was alot of blood. I remember wrapping dish towels adorned with big orange, yellow and green flowers on them around my wrist with pressure. I remember singing 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer' over and over with my mom as we went to the Dr.
When all was said and done I had 80 stitches that ran outside my left arm from the top of my wrist down to my elbow. The scar has faded in the middle in the last 28 years, but you can still see it at the top and the bottom.
I did go back to the neighborhood after the stitches and delivered the rest of my May Baskets. I'm a trooper! Although I thoroughly enjoyed the fact that my injury prevented anyone from chasing me.
I told you, May Day is not for sissies.
5 comments:
My goodness, Kari - that is one hard-core May Day story! I don't know why, but we never celebrated it in NM...cool tradition! Tell B and Scout when it's their turn to watch out for those doors. ;)
Wow you are right it's not for sissies, can't believe you got home and still delivered the rest of your baskets!
My friends brother did the same thing though not on May Day. It was scary to watch. I wonder why you sang Rupholf in May? LOL Well- glad it all ended well :)
OH goodness, girl!!! That's crazy!! I've never celebrated May Day!! Those baskets are too cute!
MN girl here too that celebrated May Day and also played Duck, Duck, Grey Duck!
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