1.0The News Journalhttps://qa.thenewsjournal.netrich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="BUupqPe4tz"><a href="https://qa.thenewsjournal.net/may-first-real-independence-day/">May First, the real Independence Day</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://qa.thenewsjournal.net/may-first-real-independence-day/embed/#?secret=BUupqPe4tz" width="600" height="338" title="“May First, the real Independence Day” — The News Journal" data-secret="BUupqPe4tz" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /* <![CDATA[ */ /*! 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It was the day our mothers let us take off the loathsome heavy woolen underwear, thick cotton stockings and high-top shoes we had worn all win­ter. It didn’t matter if it was as hot as Dante’s Inferno all through April. She did­n’t care if we sweat bullets and threatened to faint dead away from the heat. “You will wear your winter underwear until it’s safe to take it off,” was her edict, “safe” meaning the first day of May even if it snowed. We knew it would do no good to argue with her. When she made up her mind about something, it stayed made up. But I had my own way of getting around her. On the way to school, as soon as I was out of her sight, I took off the long cotton stockings and stashed them in a safe place. Then I put them back on before I got home, thinking she would be none the wiser. I later learned that she did the same thing when she was a girl, which only proves that there is nothing new under the sun and mothers are the best con artists in the world. The itchy, scratchy underwear (probably invented by a sadist) was not only uncomfortable, it was a source of embarrassment. Mean little boys whose only purpose for living was to aggravate nice little girls, never passed up the opportunity to snicker and point a finger at us when we came back from “being excused.” I’ll tell you why, but first it may be necessary to educate those who are uninformed on the construction of winter underwear. In the back was what was called a “trap door” that we had to undo in order to do what we went to the privy to do in the first place. It had several buttons that were hard to manipulate. Oftentimes our petticoats got caught in the buttons, which resulted in a large wad that stuck out, making it look as if we were wearing a bustle. Therefore, when we walked back into the classroom “wagging our tails behind us,” as it were, it sent the boys into fits of laughter. This usually interrupted the reading of “See Dick and Jane and Spot Run” which I had a problem with anyway. What were they running from, I wondered. And to where? Did they know something we didn’t know? In any case, some good must have come from it since most of us learned to read well enough to finish high school. But I digress. By the time Friday rolled around, the classroom began to take on the dank atmosphere of a smelly gym from the aroma of 25 to 30 sweaty kids … who by now were suspected of supporting plant life in under­wear they had worn all week… Saturday night being the universal night for underwear-changing and bath-taking. That in itself was a big production and a weekend ritual in homes from Maine to California. Since most homes had only a cold water spigot, or no indoor plumbing at all, this meant hauling the big zinc washtub in from the back porch and filling it with kettles of water that had been heated on the kitchen stove. If a family was the least bit affluent, they threw in a bar of Ivory. If not, homemade lye soap had to do. If you were first in line, the bath water was clean and hot and sudsy. But by the time the third or fourth person took a turn, the water had begun to lose its vitality and looked more like Snyder’s Swamp. It may sound like I’m making this up, but communal bath water was the rule rather than the exception in those days. If you doubt my word, ask someone who was around at that time and they will confirm what I’m saying. If they deny it, they have just gotten uppity and won’t admit it. When at long last May first came around and our mothers declared spring official, we threw off the shackles of our winter clothes. Feeling free at last, we couldn’t wait to get outside and curl our toes in the dewy freshness of the cool sweet grass. How wonderful it felt to inhale the earth’s pungent fragrance, to romp unfettered and bare foot through fields of clover, make clover chains, and gather wild violets. What utter joy! What glorious freedom! Wonderful, marvelous first day of May. The real Independence Day when you’re a kid. And aren’t we all on that day of days. Inez’s Pecan Turtles Ingredients 1 pkg. Kraft caramels Pecan Halves Milk Chocolate Chips Directions Melt package of Kraft caramels over boiling water (double boiler). Arrange pecan halves on cookie sheet. Drop caramel by spoonfuls onto pecan halves. Let sit until cold – room temperature. Melt milk chocolate chips in double boiler. When cool, drizzle chocolate over caramels.