Well, it’s Easter. It’s a weird Easter but it’s still Easter.
Growing up in Meriden, Connecticut, Easter was one of two times during the year when I got some new clothes. I’m not trying to make my family sound like we were farmers out where you had a ten mile walk to town. I just grew up with two older brothers, so most of my clothes were passed down. In late summer, when school was starting up, Mom would take me down to West Main Street and hit Kresge’s or Hyman’s and get some new cool threads. And by cool threads I mean slacks and a dress shirt. When I hit high school I was allowed to go crazy and get something in a paisley.
But no one took pictures of us heading off to school. Our parents were too busy slapping five and trying to remember where they hid the scotch all summer. Easter was for pictures. We would dress up in our new clothes and be lined up in front of a giant willow tree right in front of the back door. It couldn’t be in BACK of the FRONT door because that would mean the tree was in our house. Logic, people.
Immanuel Lutheran. That was our church. It was on Hanover Street, near where one of my best friends, Mike Varanka, lived. Lutheranism was a religion. You can look it up. It was just sort of the Casual Friday of religions. Don’t show up for a month? No problem. Glad to see ya!!
I remember I was brought down to go to Sunday School in the morning before the actual services. I never thought of this before but I have no idea what my parents did for the hour when I was in a room with Pastor Plageman memorizing the books of the bible. Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus…after that they now go blank.
It will tell you all you need to now about my current religious standing that I had to Google how to spell Genesis.
Maybe for an hour my folks went somewhere and had cocktails. Or played cards. I know they did those things. They did them in our basement every Friday night. Were they doing it Sunday mornings too? That’s a lot of work in a weekend.
Church was an absolute must on Easter. Personally, I couldn’t wait for it to be over because of what was waiting at home. A basket filled with chocolate. Not the crap chocolate you get today. Back then (you whippersnappers!!) we had the good stuff. The Sunday service was all that lay between me and a starter kit for diabetes.
I guess this year it was on-line services and Amazon delivered candy, if the parents planned far enough ahead. I picture kids waking up and finding blocks of baker’s ass chocolate in a cardboard box. Memories to last a lifetime.
However you do it…enjoy the day. Let Easter mean whatever you need it to mean for your heart and soul.
Happy Easter everybody!!!!!