So, I coach track for fourth graders at a Catholic School. While walking back from the park to school I asked them if they had a new Easter outfit. They looked at me as if I had two heads. Why, they asked? I remember how I loved my Easter outfits at their age. A new dress, hat, lacy anklets and shiny new mary janes. How fabulous Easter was! We would dress in our finery and drive to my Grandparents house. My Grandma would cook for days, the meal would be fabulous and then afterward we would gather around the piano and sing.
My family did Easter well. What makes this particularly noteworthy is that we are Jewish. We certainly didn’t go to Church. Nor did we attend Easter Egg Hunts, something I dreamed of. I finally threw one myself which Darth Vader attended. I’ve written about that here, check it out when you get a moment.
It was an American holiday and we celebrated. Just like we celebrated Christmas, though my brother was born that day so we had an excuse.
My father had a fondness for animals. And they had an affinity for him. The fact that he was very allergic to every single animal did not deter him. He would bring home a plethora of animals, which I shall write about in another post.
When I was 6 years old my father bought us ducklings for Easter. Not chickies or even a bunny, but two little ducklings. We didn’t have a pond, lake or river, so we kept them in the bathtub. I don’t think the ducklings or my mother were particularly happy.
I don’t recall how or when but suddenly they were gone. Years later I asked my father where they went. He returned them to the pet store. I can only imagine the conversation my father had with the owner. Father - these ducklings are defective. They want to live their own lives and they won’t stay put. I demand a refund!
In retrospect I’m glad that the duckies had each other in their time of torture. I like to think they found a nice new home on a farm or a park. Nothing says Easter like ducklings in the bathtub!
Happy Easter, Everyone! Here’s to Rebirth!
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