Does May 1 holiday make you a basket case?

As I understand it, the tradition used to be that the May basket was supposed to be left on someone's doorstep. When you ring the doorbell, you are supposed to run away. Where I grew up, that’s not what kids left on your doorstep when they rang the bell and ran away.

What I remember about May 1 were scenes on the evening news of the Russians holding big parades where tanks rolled by and the red army marched past a bunch of really old men from the Kremlin. It looked like it was their 4th of July or something. Growing up in the cold war, that certainly didn’t seem like a holiday that any red (er, uh, red, white, and blue) blooded American kid would want to be a part of.

The truth of the matter is, May Day is an American invention. It’s supposed to be about the little guy, the blue collar, working class regular Joe who puts in his 8, 10, or 14 hour day trying to make a decent living for his family. But like so many things that began here, May Day has become an international celebration. And like a lot of things, Americans decided that we couldn’t like it if Europeans did.

Back on May 4, 1886 there was a rally in the Haymarket of Chicago. Workers were protesting low wages and unfair treatment. They wanted the right to organize unions that would be able to bargain collectively, on behalf of employees, with business owners and management.

Someone threw a bomb at the cops who were trying to disperse the crowd and things got out of hand. No one really knows who actually threw it, but eight agitators were arrested and tried for the murders. Four were put to death, and one committed suicide in prison. Five of the eight were German immigrants. Their sentencing set off a huge growth in unions in Europe. And concern for how America treats it’s immigrants.

Okay, okay. May Day isn’t really all that American. Germans and Scandinavians celebrated it long before Christianity came to Europe. May first is the day, according to legend that the Tunic god Oden (the Norse knew him as Thor) died in order to discover some secret magic power from some people called the Runes or something. Europeans celebrated by lighting bonfires, going on runs, drinking excessive amounts of alcohol and dancing around poles. American college students do the same thing only they call it Spring Break.

Neo-Pagans have been trying to bring it back. They call the holiday “Walpurgisnacht,” probably another reason it doesn’t get celebrated her in the states. Can you imagine wishing people “Merry Walpurgisnacht?” Happy Walpurgisnacht. have you made any resolutions for Walpurgisnacht? What are you doing Walpurgisnacht Eve?

As much as I admire the working man, I’m not much for celebrating pagan holidays, so once again (remember February) I would like to offer readers an alternative (if somewhat obscure and esoteric) holiday for the first week in May. Cartoonist Appreciation Week, May 3-10.

National Cartoonist Day is every year on May 5. The very first comic strip, The Yellow Kid, appeared in a newspaper on May 5, 1895. But this year they decided to have it on May 3. I think because they couldn’t get Congress to make it a federal holiday, nobody can get the Monday off, so cartoonists wanted it on a Friday night so they can party.

A highlight of Cartoonist Appreciation Week is Free Comic Book Day, also May 3. Participating comic book specialty retailers around the world give away free comic books to any unsuspecting kids who make the mistake of entering their stores. Sort of like how drug dealers give you the first hit for free because they know they’re going to get you hooked.

If it’s that important to you to hold on to the old holiday’s connection to labor unions, you might be interested to know that cartoonists have their own union. The National Cartoonists Society is the world's largest organization of professional cartoonists, Founded in 1946, one of their goals is "to stimulate and encourage interest in and acceptance of the art of cartooning by aspiring cartoonists, students and the general public." I’m not a member because I can’t afford the dues. Maybe someday.

If you happen to know a cartoonist, you may want to send them a card or something. Preferably with a generous gratuity inside. Or perhaps you should bake them a pie, or a plate of cookies. Chocolate chip or oatmeal would be nice, but cartoonists don’t usually like raisins very much. Or marshmallows. Cartoonists hate marshmallows.

The lease you could do is leave a comment on this blog post and say hi, or maybe an email or poke them on Facebook. You COULD at least visit http://tedstoons.blogspot.com and leave some comments on some of those cartoons.

By the way, the distress call “Mayday, Mayday” has absolutely nothing to do with the first day of May. It comes from the French phrase “venez m'aider,” meaning “come to my aid!” Thought you’d like to know.

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'Ted's Column' has appeared weekly in the Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper since 2002 and the Schleswig Leader since 2004. In 2007 the Mapleton PRESS, which published both of the smaller paper, "absorbed" both the Leader and the NEWSpaper. But the PRESS is not exactly a major metro daily, it runs once a week and has an official circulation of 2130 with an estimated total readership of around 4260. So if you're ever in Western Iowa, at a gas station on a Thursday, buy a copy, we appreciate your support.

This week, he REALLY wants you to come see all of Ted's cartoons, some even in color at http://tedstoons.blogspot.com

¡Celebre el eith de la victoria de Zaragoza yo!

Happy Cinco de Mayo. Do you know what Cinco de Mayo is all about? Many gringos assume that it’s “their Fourth of July.” Actually, Mexican Independence Day is September 16, 1810, that’s the day when a lowly priest rang his church bell calling for Mexicans to fight for their liberty from Spain. Their war for Independence lasted 10 years.

In 1861, Benito Juarez became president of Mexico. He inherited a financial mess. Mexico defaulted on their debts to European countries. France sent naval forces to demand payment. France’s Napoleon III, thought he’d take the opportunity to carve an empire out of Mexican.

During the French-Mexican War, a poorly supplied and outnumbered Mexican army defeated a French army attempting to capture a small town, or “puebla” in east-central Mexico. Winning the “Battle of Puebla” was a great moral victory for the Mexican government, proving their country's ability to defend its sovereignty against a major world power.

6,000 French troops attacked 2,000 rag-tag rebels. 500 French soldiers were killed, but Texas-born Mexican General Zaragoza lost only 100 men. On the fifth of May, 1862, the French retreated, although it was another six years until the French withdrew completely.

Pretty cool, huh? Reminds you of our own American Revolution. Except, France was our ally, but that was pre-Napoleon. And of course we attacked Mexico in the 1840’s and took half their country (California, Arizona, Colorado, etc.) I’m sure that war added to their debt and cut into their gross national product a little too.

Much has been said about “all the Mexicans” in Denison in the last 5-10 years. As a high school teacher, I certainly overhear a fair share of disparaging and ignorant, sometimes even racist remarks that kids make about the changing demographics of our area.

When I was growing up in Phoenix, I just assumed that anyone who wasn’t African-American was “White.” My best friend when I was five was a kid named Juaquin. Everybody thought he was Mexican, but actually his dad was a Maracopia Indian and his mom was Italian.

Bob Lopez, our barber used to get frustrated with the Mexican nationals who’d come north for work, but wouldn’t speak English. He said they knew how to speak it, they were just embarrassed by their accents. Sounds like stories I’ve heard around here from the old timers about speaking German before WWII.

One thing I learned teaching in Los Angeles, is that, like with my childhood friend Juaquin, you can’t assume you know someone’s ethnicity. Guatamalan and Cuban kids would actually make fun of Mexican kids because they spoke so slowly. I guess it’sort of like the difference between a Chicago accent and an Alabama one. El Salvadorans could be very offended if you thought they were Mexican.

Most of all, when you’re talking about the western half of the U.S. there’s a real question of did you cross the border, or did the border cross you? Some peoples families were here before here was “here.”

There’s no such thing as “Hispanic.” Seriously, it’s not a race or a nationality- the term was actually made up in the 1970s by the Census Bureau as an all-inclusive label to define people who’s family origins are in Mexico, the Caribbean or Central and South America. But let’s face it, most people you’d think of as Hispanic are even less Spanish than I am Irish- although many of them do at least speak Spanish. I have no idea how to say anything in Gaelic.

The term “Latino” comes from the Spanish “latinoamericano.” It’s supposed to refer to people who are from former Spanish and Portuguese colonies of Latin America. But see, that doesn’t just cover South America, the Caribbean, and Mexico. It also means territory that the United States acquired from Mexico, like Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, Nevada, California and Arizona. So therefore, having been born in Arizona, I am a Latino.

I think that the best thing to call people sir or ma’am or for that matter, call them by their first name. Better yet, call them “friend.” In my experience, folks of Mexican decent are warm, friendly, generous, hard working, fair, devoutly faithful Christians who value their families above all else. But of course, these may be overgeneralizations.

While I don’t really commemorate Zaragoza’s victory, I do think that today is not just an excuse to party. Although, I enjoy Mexican beer, Mexican food, Tejano music, and margaritas as much as the next Gingo.

By the way- Gringo is derived from “griego” which means “Greek,” suggesting a stranger or foreigner- as in someone confused by Spanish, who’s apt to give up and say “it’s all Greek to me.”

Of course it may have been derived from the Spanish pronunciation of a slang word meaning "fast spender,"

But it’s more likely that it came out of the Mexican War. The Yankee soldiers sang a marching song called “Green Grow the Rushes.” The Mexicans heard it and started calling the Yankees “Gringos” because of the repeating lyrics “Green Grow.”

FYI: “¡Celebre el eith de la victoria de Zaragoza yo!” translates to “Clebrate Zaragoza’s victory with me!”