Good Miracle Monday to you!
What? How could you forget that the third Monday in May is Miracle Monday? Elliot will be very disappointed in you…
If you have no idea what I’m talking about (Ma nishtana ha-laila ha-zeh mi-kol ha-leilot) Miracle Monday is the third Monday in May. It’s from a Superman novel of the same name written by Elliot S! Maggin and published in 1981. I highly recommend reading it, if you haven’t read it before– and luckily, some folks have put it online.
On Miracle Monday the spirit of humanity soared free. This
Miracle Monday, like the first Miracle Monday, came in the spring of
Metropolis, and for the occasion spring weather was arranged wherever
the dominion of humanity extended. On Uranus’s satellites where the
natives held an annual fog-gliding rally through the planetary rings,
private contributions even made it possible to position orbiting
fields of gravitation for spectators in free space. On Titan, oxygen
bubbles were loosed in complicated patterns to burst into flame with
the methane atmosphere and make fireworks that were visible as far as
the surface of saturn. At Nix Olympica, the eight-kilometer-high
Martian volcano, underground pressures that the Olympica Resort
Corporation had artificially accumulated during the preceding year
were unleashed in a spectacular display of molten fury for tourists
who walked around the erupting crater wearing pressurized energy
shields. At Armstrong City in the Moon’s Sea of Tranquility there was
a holographic reenactment of the founding of the city in the year
2019, when on the fiftieth anniversary of his giant leap for mankind
the first man on the Moon returned, aged and venerable, to what was
then called Tranquility Base Protectorate, carrying a state charter
signed by the President of the United States. The prices of ski lift
tickets on Neptune inflated for the holiday. Teleport routes to
beaches and mountains on Earth crowded up unbelievably.
Interplanetary wilderness preserves became nearly as crowded with
people as Earth cities. Aboard the slow-moving orbital ships that
carried ores and fossil materials on slowly decaying loops toward the
sun from the asteroids, teamsters partied until they couldn’t see. On
worlds without names scattered throughout this corner of the Galaxy,
where Earth’s missionaries, pioneers and speculators carried their own
particular quests, it was a day for friends, family, recreation and –
if it brought happiness—reflection.