Family Traditions

First off, I want to give a hearty thanks to our first guest bloggers.  They added some tangy zing to the blog — well done!  The experiment was such a success that I’d love for it continue. Judging by my page view stats, readers want it to continue, too!  I hope to have a new guest blog up sometime in April.   (To those of you who have promised a blog entry, I am officially giving you the stank eye.)

So here we are in early spring.  Usually by now the winter chill is slowly ebbing, making way for kinder, gentler weather.  This year spring seems to have forgotten us.  That groundhog is a damn liar.  Nevertheless, Easter and Passover are approaching no matter what the snow on my lawn says. And with holidays come traditions.  Some religious, some family, some questionable.

Maybe he wasn't THIS scary, but still...

Maybe he wasn’t THIS scary, but still…

Easter is kind of an odd holiday.  Not from a religious standpoint–I’d be the world’s worst Catholic if I didn’t understand why we celebrate Easter. Not that I’m a great Catholic, but…let’s move on, shall we? The unusual nature of Easter.  Christmas is for all ages.  We give presents to everyone in our close circle, we sing carols, we bake cookies.  Easter, the non-religious parts anyway, is directed only at children.  Easter baskets, dying eggs, egg hunts, putting Peeps in the microwave…that stuff is all either for children, or performed by adults for children.  You don’t see your 55 year-old neighbor hunting for eggs in his azaleas.  If you do, though, you’d better go check on him.

I have excellent memories of my childhood Easters.  I got a special dress (and sometimes a hat and shoes) just for the occasion.  I would don the outfit, and my family would go to church and/or my grandparents’ house, where my cousins and I anxiously waited for my grandfather to start the egg hunt.  I still remember how the bushes scratched my arms as I reached deep into the branches for an egg he had squashed back there. Totally worth it.  Inside the house, there was (what looked like) a shrine to the Easter Bunny.  A large, rather deranged looking ceramic rabbit loomed over a tray of assorted chocolates and jelly beans.  You had to work up the courage to grab candy before the bunny grabbed you.  Not that he ever did, but it definitely looked like that rabbit had plans.

I think my kids are still too small for an Easter egg hunt, but damn if I won’t hide some eggs in the backyard and let them have a go.  I know this will be poo-pood soundly by my husband, who will be waiting with an “I told you so” as we return to the house cold and eggless.  However, I am determined to try.  And I will dress the boys in their best duds to go see the rest of the family, who may or may not be harboring an evil bunny of their own. If all goes well, I will triumphantly enter my uncle’s house with a fresh-baked loaf of Easter bread.  Or something I grab from 7-Eleven because the bread was a disaster. Happy spring!

I can do this, right?

I can do this, right?

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