CLASS OF 1945 | 2016| ISSUE 2

I wrote these notes in early May, the time of Beltaine, the ancient Celtic festival that marks the beginning of summer and all matters of fertility. You are reading these notes in early-to-mid August, the time of Lughnassa, the ancient Celtic festival that marks the beginning of harvest and the dying of summer into winter. Both festivals were observed with great bonfires and rituals of purification that sought bountiful crops, fruitful livestock, ample harvests, and good health during the bitter months of a cold earth. Well, Beltaine has evolved into May Day, and its sacrifices remain—if, indeed, the custom does remain—only in the hanging of May baskets. When I was young, we children made May baskets of wallpaper samples, or small berry baskets, or nut cups, or whatever container we could decorate with colored tissue paper and violets or pansies. Dandelions with tightly braided stems made handsome handles hanging our creations, which we filled with homemade fudge or stuffed dates, or even Necco wafers, when desperate. Hanging the baskets came at dusk. Each of us had targets: grandmother, favorite aunt, cookie-baking neighbor, but I recall that a winsome girl was my keenest excitement. I hung the basket on her front doorknob, or set it carefully on the top step. Now ring the bell or give a solid knock, and wait, poised for flight. Custom decreed that the hanger run and the hangee chase, catch him, and bestow a rewarding kiss. That was dandy if pursuer ran speedily while pursued, well, loped, but when where to hang the basket was determined by parental decree, I was ever an Olympic sprinter. None of this has much to do with class notes, but I am reminded of some pre-WWII Wesleyan “festivals”: idiotic freshmen fraternity quests; stupidly dangerous “guttering”; frosh-soph flag scraps. All these relics of immaturity long gone, I hope. But one festival I remember with affection is the interfraternity song contest that made for non-lethal competition in which the Crow House choirboys regularly prevailed. The sing has likely faded away along with some of the fraternities. I hope not, for such a mellow tradition deserves to linger, along with the May baskets. Slán go fóill

FRANCIS W. LOVETT | lovettfrancis@gmail.com

805 Compassion Drive, Apt. 208, Windsor, CO 80550

970/460-9338