Tuesday, May 1, 2012

I could write about the day I waited, in vain, for news of my parents who I kinda knew were in some sort of danger back in 1977. They made it back OK, and I guess I was too young to understand the situation anyways - all I knew was that they were gone, and there was something wrong.

For years, I begged my father not to attend rallies on May 1st. Conditional thinking maybe..

Anyways, back so somewhat nearer past, to 1995, and I was back from a trip to Los Angeles and NYC was going through a pretty hot April. I went to the office to drop off a gazillion boxes and portfolios, and started my 4 minute commute home through Bryant Park. I was wearing these really comfy white jeans (quite fashionable, actually, because Julia Roberts was sitting next to me on the way to LA and she was wearing a very similar pair, ha!) It was late April, maybe the last days of April, and we had plans to go out for dinner, or late drinks with some friends, so when this old lady, with perfectly purplish-grey hair and dark blue Chanel suit stood right in front of me wagging a finger, I couldn't stop but think only of how I yearned to just get home. But I am a nice person, and I stopped, and she said:

"Young miss, you do NOT wear white before May 1st!"

So hey, happy May 1st. You can start wearing white again. Only till Labor Day, though.

1 comment:

Orhan Kurmuş said...

Thirty-five years later we were together at a May Day rally again, this time in Havana. The parade lasted about two hours and I think about a million people walked past the Jose Marti statue at the Revolution Square, led by the nurses and the physicians they are so proud of. They were carrying a huge banner: "We will preserve and perfect Socialism".

This was the happiest day of our lives, since Tunca's birth.

Way to go Cuba.