“Hey, Deb,” a whisper came with a whisp across my ear. “Maybasketing. Eleven thirty. Xxxxx’s house. Park your car a mile south from Xxxxx’s house. Keep this to yourself. Don’t want Xxxxx to catch on. And remember, no talking. Don’t slam the car doors. No noise. Not a sound.”
“Oh, ok.” replied the 15 year old Ludvigson Lace Lady: half excited, half scared.
The date was, April 30, 1972: the eve of May Day. No, they were not planning the hanging of colorful purfumed flowers on homefront door knobs.
This was a bit different.
Although there is a likeness: the celebration of Spring.
“I hardly know Xxxxx. I know where he lives, at least. And I know he is well acquainted with May Basketing. Even if I don’t have it down yet.”
“Well, hopefully Sheryl (her older sister) has gotten the message. I can’t drive!”
“And what do we do once we get there?” She continued in wonderment as she walked the hall to her next class. “I’m intimidated already. And it’s not even lunch hour yet.”
Her mom and dad knew. Kind of. Well, they knew it would be clean fun. No drinking. No drugs. No sex. Just a bit of merriment to let off a bit of pent up Spring fever.
“And somehow Sheryl is getting the car,” she grinned. “Wow.”
Time clicked on. The kitchen clock finally read, eleven o’clock. Pitch black outside. “Except for the moon shining. I guess we will be able to see.”
“Time to go,” Sheryl stood ready at the door. I followed her out to the family car, still so amazed we could use it for this.
It was a perfectly gorgeous Spring late night. The fresh scent was rich. Very invigorating. “And glad for that. I’m gonna need it!”
She had been tutored in this sport. But had not actually participated. They had told her how May Basketing is done, but she had not actually done it. Yet.
“Tonight I will.”
The May Basketing Procedure:
● The plan is circulated to you sometime during the daytime of the evening Maybasketing event. (Who is the target, meeting place, and time).
●Promptly meet at designated place for further instruction.
“Well, so far, so good…”
● The leader of the particular event will place the grocery bag, filled with actual groceries (!) at the front door as the rest of the group spreads out around the entire house.
●When the leader gives the signal (in other words, begins the cry, “May Basket!”) everyone else, surrounding the house, will join in with the same cry, while pounding each side of the house.
● RUN! Scatter! In every direction! For as soon as Xxxxx gets wind of the fact he has been hit, he will come flying out the door with determination. And you are the object of Xxxxx’s determination! When Xxxxx catches you, you are out of the game.
● The object of May Basketing event is for Xxxxx to catch all the participants.
● When all participants are caught, game is over and the food comes out of the grocery bag. Party On!
“Ok! Let’s see this through,” the scared 15 year old Ludvigson Lace Lady said outloud to herself.
Sheryl turned on the ignition and down the long driveway we coasted. “You know, the road down the way we are to go had some pretty deep ruts last I was on it. Frostboils. Hope they won’t give us trouble now,” I brought my thought aloud to Sheryl’s ear to warn her, the novice female driver of 17 years old.
Sheryl drove on in seeming confidence.
But once we hit the frost boils, we came to an immediate halt. The car was gonna go no where soon.
“Oh boy,” both said in unison. We both knew two things:
1) Our fun for the night just ended. No May Basketing party for us.
2) What would Dad say!
The rest of the evening is a blur to this aged Ludvigson Lace Lady! Somehow we found ourselves back home. Since this was a time before cell phones, and it was close to midnight and we were in the safe haven of our well known country road, we surely walked a refreshing mile home. Enjoying the same air that the May Basketers were breathing in another 5 miles north of our location.
Later we found out that another catastrophe happened that evening, simultaneously with ours: a veteran male May Basketer had been rambunctiously up in a tree, fell and had been admitted to the hospital with broken bones. Only also to miss his high school graduation ceremony at the end of the month!
As far as the two females with the mud stuck family car, their dad’s trusty farm tractor came in real handy the next day.
Lest you think this Ludvigson Lace Lady never again had opportunity to experience an authentic Mora May Basketing event after this horrendous beginning, think again!
There were many! And all according to the plan (See above.) Some victims were in town. Some were out in the country. On the farms. In the trailer courts.
“You know, they never hit my family’s home.” the Ludvigson Lace Lady queried.
She could only conclude that they only victimized the guys of the group. (They didn’t want to be out ALL night!)
“My three brothers were still too young to torture…”
We hit pastoral staff that threatened with his gun out his bedroom window. (He knew how to handle the May Basketing crowd. After a scare and guttural laughter, memories of this are such that will never be erased.)
We had the police after us.
Now that I think about it, I believe it was probably the humor of this particular victim/home owner who called the police! (In the same come back spirit as our victimized pastoral staff!)
Do they still May Basket in Mora? Probably not. Some things only last for a time. And new memory makers take their place. This is probably true of Mora May Basketing.
Life is Lovelier With Lace. . .
Some things are trendy. Some things are forever.
Handmade crocheted lace is one thing that is created to last forever. For a few generations anyway!
I continue to immensely enjoy adding crocheted lace to my shop, LUDVIGSON LACE ♡ Aftcra. Certainly more than frost boil midnight recovery!
And I love the celebration of May Day! In lieu of the midnight run, I now choose to enjoy the beauty and thoughtfulness of purfumed, colorful flowers on your door knob!
Happy May Day,
~ Debbie Ludvigson
The Ludvigson Lace Lady
LUDVIGSON LACE ♡ Aftcra
My Shop: http://www.aftcra.com/ludvigsonlace
My Website: http://ludvigsonlace.simdif.com
My Blog: https://ludvigsonlace.wordpress.com