May Basket! May Basket!

So the last post about the outhouses elicited some comments, and my own memories, of May baskets.

Most of you may know May Baskets as the sweet little tradition similar to this recollection of a reporter, circa 1871:  "A May-basket is — well, I hardly know how to describe it; but 'tis something to be hung on a door. Made of paper generally, it contains almost anything, by way of small presents you have in mind to put in it, together with your respects, best wishes — love, perhaps. It is hung after dark at the door of anybody the hanger fancies. — Which done, the said hanger knocks and scampers."

Not so in Planet Potsdam, where I grew up!  May Baskets were events of epic proportion equivalent to an alien invasion.  If the Potsdam Immanuel Lutheran group (yes, this was a church thing!) had targeted you, we would descend on you like a plague of locusts.  Or an army of Ninja warriors.  Or maybe an army of Ninja locusts.  You just never knew.

So how it usually worked, from my best recollections, is that along about Wednesday, someone from our church would get an urge to “hang a May basket” on someone.  Multiple phone calls ensued to get it set up.

This all required logistical planning--who was going to bring sloppy joes, who was going to bring bars, and who was going to get the two to three buckets of candy.  That’s right...plural buckets.  I am also fairly certain, although I was not in this informational loop as a child, that someone considerately called the housewife who would be invaded at least a day or two ahead of time to give her a heads up so some spiffing up of the abode could be surreptiously accomplished without raising any red flags with her children.  

Then there was the strategical planning.  The army of Ninja warriors consisted of usually 10 to 11 couples and 15 to 20 kids.  Transportation was a major issue.  A meeting place and time was designated, and at the appointed hour, kids would cram into the back of two or three pickups.  Adults were in two to three cars, and these were the lead vehicles.

As the convoy approached the target, the lead vehicles slowed down and the pickups with kids stopped so the kids could all bail out and scatter into the darkness.  The lead vehicles then continued to the front yard, horns blowing (blowing horns was a big deal for this group), and exited their vehicles shouting “May Basket, May Basket!”  

Having been on both the giving and receiving end of things in these events, I’ll give both perspectives of what happened next.

The Ninja warriors, having had a head start, were all finding hiding places.  This could be as simple as behind the lilac bush or as stealthy as the middle to upper branches of the old crab apple tree, from whence the Ninja could wait for an unsuspecting searcher to walk below and then drop out of the tree--hopefully--just behind them to scare them senseless while the NInja raced away to hide again.  The object here was for the targets to find all of the Ninjas before the Ninjas could infiltrate Command Central where there was candy, pop, and a bathroom.

Some families had amazing yards with lots of dark nooks and crannies that made exceptional hiding places (also important later in the evening...we’ll come back to that) but some were lit up like Christmas with few hiding places of note.  

So, on the flip side, as the target of invasion, you would just be going about your business as normal (except for Mom, who knew what was coming) and then BLAM...there were cars racing into your yard with horn blowing and a bunch of crazy loons yelling “May Basket, May Basket!”

The ensuing bedlam of I can’t find my shoes...screw it, I’ll go barefoot! and I’ll check the hayloft! from the kids along with Come in and have a beer! from the adults made for absolute chaos for a few seconds until the targeted kids lined up their defense plan and hit the dark.  

Someone always ran headlong into someone else or crashed into the lawn mower that got left in the back yard because it was out of gas or got so winded/laughed so hard they puked.  Nothing should surprise you on May Basket night.  The search would continue for maybe 30 to 45 minutes before either Surrender was called or a truce was negotiated due to dry throats, empty tummies, and full bladders requiring a trip to Command Central.

After the initial search and seizure portion of the evening, whether you were the invaders or the targets, the rest of the night settled into the same routine.  

The adults would stay in the house with their refreshments and they would have two to three tables of shaskoup going.  This is a card game that I have never heard referenced outside of Planet Potsdam.  I tried to Google it and I got suggestions for shake up and shack up.  I thought maybe I wasn’t spelling it correctly (and please let me know the correct spelling if you know it), so I added “card game” to my Google search and got the suggestion for smash up.  So I don’t know...maybe this is a made up game from Planet Potsdam that doesn’t exist anywhere else.  

Anyway, from what I could gather as a child, this was a cross between maybe bridge and 500 or pinnochle and euchre...I was never quite sure because I didn’t know how to play any of those games.  If it wasn’t Go Fish or Crazy Eights...it didn’t exist in my world.  Oh, and Slap Jack.  And War...

But I digress.

So the adults were playing cards.  This particular game that I can’t spell or play requires two decks of cards being combined and dealt out to six players.  There was bidding involved, and the high card was the queen of clubs, dubbed the Curly Queen, but I don’t know why.  This competition could get intense!  

There would be the usual off-color jokes told, neighborhood news, and good-natured insults.  Until someone on a team made a bone-head play or biffed the bidding, and then all bets were off and all hell could break loose.  That’s when the kids would decide that refreshments were done, and they headed outside for their own fierce competition.

In Planet Potsdam, we played Midnight Starlight.  I believe this is also sometimes called Ghost in the Graveyard.  It was basically hide and seek, but the seekees had to get back to “base” (normally the front steps of the house) before the seekers could tag them.  I think there were some more complicated rules in there, often made up on the spot to suit someone’s needs, but I’m not entirely certain.  It’s been so long since I played that game that the memory banks are a little fuzzy.

Anyway, along about 11:00 or so, one of the moms would come out on the front steps and yell that the food was ready and come and get it.  So this is really where the plague of locusts comes in because these 15-20 who have been tearing around the front and back yard like demons for two hours are starved and parched.  If the adults were smart, they’d loaded up their plates first because by the time the kids got through...there really wasn’t a whole lot left.  

Sadly, the tradition of May Baskets has gone the way of tinker toys, the metal Slinky, and jacks...mostly relegated to us middle agers and older.  That’s too bad because those May Basket memories are some of the best from when I was a kid.  I’m guessing that my Planet Potsdam peeps would agree!

On a closing note, I will share a quote that my cousin, Dawn, said her dad repeated every year on the First of May: May Day, May Day! Outdoor necking starts today!