I grew up Catholic, and was an alter boy for close to ten years. These days, I’m not a very religious fellow, so I don’t put a whole lot of belief into the religious stories. If you’re really interested, I posted my thoughts here. I’m also pretty skeptical about the origins of the different holidays, and how the big ones all seem to be claimed by the Christians, even though there is evidence that these holidays used to be Pagan holidays, and what not… Not going to get into that, but…
That said, I see no harm in still celebrating the holidays, even if I don’t agree why or when they started. Easter was always a strange one for me as a kid. I DID go to church on Easter Sunday at some point, and it always confused me why I was made to dress so much nicer on Easter than I was any other Sunday, if I wasn’t doing anything all that different. My general recollection of Easter was mostly that I get up in the morning, and find my “basket” which was always actually a cowboy hat, upside down filled with green cellophane and candy. Perhaps a coloring book or two, etc. The Easter Bunny knew a boy would much rather have a cowboy hat than a frickin basket!
I’d get up, and there’d be a trail if those chocolate footballs wrapped in tin foil, which I guess were probably meant to be eggs… I just always thought they were footballs. Anyway, the trail would go down the hall, down the stairs, and around the corner to my “basket”. That was always my favorite part, I think since I don’t really have any other specific memories of the basket itself, except for the malted milk balls and how disgusting they were. Of course, in true-me fashion, I ate em anyway.
I seem to remember the rest of the day being more of a pain in the arse than anything else. I had to wear clothes that weren’t very comfortable, couldn’t play with my new toys or eat my new candy, and had to go visiting relatives, which I didn’t really start to appreciate until much later in life. We’d do Easter egg hunts, which I never really enjoyed, because I could never find mine. I still hate searching for things.
One of my favorite memories though, was an event at my aunt’s house that I don’t actually remember… Which I know sounds strange, but, she tells me about it every now and then, and I always like hearing it.
My aunt’s house was spotless (at least when we came over for family gatherings. I like to pretend that everyone is just as slovenly as I am when they’re not expecting company!) and her kids were mid to late teens when I was old enough to be a pain in the ass. We were there, and playing in what was the TV room. There were a few other cousins who were of a similar age, and God only knows what the hell we were doing, but from time to time, the grown ups would holler up the stairs and tell us to calm down, cause the chandelier in the kitchen was shaking.
Finally, after the third or fourth such hollering, a trip upstairs had to be made. My aunt opened the door to the TV room, to find that we’d moved the couch, which pulled the carpet. As she opened the door, I was in the process of standing the lamp back up, and immediately said “I didn’t do it!”
I have to wonder what the “it” of which I was speaking specifically was… Knocking over the lamp? Moving the couch? Naturally I thought it was perfectly reasonable to think I could make someone believe I, the youngest of the group had nothing to do with any of the carnage. I of course, was just explaining to them that they had to settle down and was straightening up the room just as my aunt walked in. Poor innocent me.
If only they’d had some Legos in that house…
What are your favorite Easter memories from your childhood?