Easter

A beautiful holiday, if you think about it. Sort of like a springtime Thanksgiving, but with a more upbeat, forward looking punch to it. I’m thinking of the renewal elements, the egg dishes and pastel colors. Yes, I know – that’s a limited repertoire of associations. My parents gave some attention to Christmas (at least during my childhood) but they neglected Easter. I don’t know that my mother quite knew what to do with it. Bunnies? Baskets? Not in our house.

My kids were probably shortchanged as well. St Matthew’s Passion doesn’t have the zip of Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Yes, there were Easter dresses and early on, we even took them to church (see? This is what it’s like; these are your roots…). There were egg hunts in the backyard – a laughable thing, given that Wisconsin in March is so, well, traumatic. And there was a spring feast of sorts, but I struggled there as well. I don’t like to roast lamb or pork and so we’d have chicken and mashed potatoes. Served on better china.



When, in an outpouring of generous spirits, old neighborhood friends invited me to Easter brunch and newer but no less special friends invited me to Easter dinner today I was thrilled.

Ed stayed away. If my family didn’t do Easter well, his Jewish family, who acquiesced to having a Christmas tree in December, did not go along with an Easter Bunny motif. And so he is both clueless and fairly indifferent to it all. He’d rather be pruning his peach tree.

After a rousing game of tennis, where the balls reminded me of Easter eggs…





…and I bounced around the court in my finest Easter attire…





I waved Ed off and pedaled to the old neighborhood…

…to enjoy egg dishes and Easter decorations with friends who were no strangers to this holiday.











Later, at home, I thought more about Easter and families and spring and renewal (again, a very limited repertoire of associations), then got back on my bike and pedaled in the opposite direction to the home of a lovely family who were at least in cahoots with the Easter Bunny. It was wonderful to watch their kids search for hidden Easter treasures (and to see the brother peek into his little sister’s bag to make sure the loot amounts were equal).





You could say that I am hijacking the holidays of others. Maybe. But then, aren’t holidays supposed to be borrowed and shared? Fact is, every day is not a holiday. And every day is not a day of renewal, eggs, asparagus and chocolate carrots.