It's spring, and the next holiday coming up is Easter (or Resurrection Sunday for us fundamentalists).
As kids, we had at least a slight understanding of the signifigance of the day, but mainly, we knew Easter as a day that was fun, in spots.
We'd get up Easter morning, have breakfast, then go to get ready for church, which meant putting on the dreaded EASTER OUTFIT- New, hard shoes, dress pants and shirt, and a tie (in my case, clip-on) then obeying the next order- SIT DOWN, AND DO NOTHING UNTIL IT'S TIME TO GO! No playing, reading comic books, wrestling, or anything, or you'll RUIN YOUR GOOD CLOTHES!
Then, after seeming hours of immobility, we're piled into the car, for the ride to Friendship Baptist Church, by the hospital. By then, my feet were already sore from the new shoes, my outfit itched as if it were made of fiberglass, and I just wanted to go home. However, we still had the Easter Service to go through.
( SEGUE )
Days later, we'd stagger to the car, and the trip home. There, we carefully stripped off the hated outfits, and put our real clothes back on, for the Easter Egg Hunt. This, in those days, was at Cromwell Park, near the City Dump. It was great fun, even if you didn't find lots of eggs, just being free after spending the day under the parental yoke.
At home, we'd sit down for the Easter meal-yams, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, corn, and of course, the HAM, all fragrant, juicy, with cloves sticking out like darts, not to mention pies, cakes, and other goodies.
This more than made up for the morning.
Today, I rejoice in the Rising of my Lord and Saviour, and the promise of salvation brought about by that blessed event. Still, I fondly look back at that eight year old me, jiggling in his seat, wishing the Grone Folx would get it in gear, already!