When I was a little girl growing up in Chicago, my mother used to tell me stories about how they celebrated May Day when she was a child in Memphis. I would imagine the colorful ribbons, the dancing, the laughter, it all sounded magical.
So, when we moved to Memphis for the first time, and I enrolled in the first grade at Riverview Elementary, I was thrilled to learn that I’d get to participate in the May Day activities too. I couldn’t wait to wear my all-white outfit and wrap the May Pole, just like my mother had described.
But that year, on May 1st, I came down with the chicken pox.
I didn’t get to wear my white dress. I didn’t get to dance or hold a ribbon. I didn’t get to wrap the May Pole.
Even now, I think about that day every year — the one I missed. It’s a memory that never quite faded, a reminder of how much those childhood traditions meant.
May 1, 2025