It has been many moons since the excited early Sunday mornings of Easters past.
When you pounced on your mom and dad’s bed before they could get some coffee in their hungover bodies. Because you knew the Easter Bunny had left you a basket of chocolate goodies and it was somewhere in the house.
Easter egg hunts were kind of lame, and if you got in the bigger events, you were doomed to fail.
I like the milk chocolate eggs with malted milk inside.
I do not like Peeps of any color.
Unlike the Domestic Despot, who can eat blocks of the finest chocolate, I prefer it in moderation.
When I was a kid, my favorite candy was Abba Zabba bars, Big Hunk, Charleston Chew, Sugar Daddy, and those little, tiny Chiclets colored gum bits.
Easter Sunday meant a trip to church, followed by a trip to the grandparents’ house where the entire family gathered every Sunday.
There were oversized platters of food everywhere and it seemed everyone in attendance had an alcoholic drink in their hand including several of the kids.
Grandpa and all the uncles, cousins, etc., gathered around a big round felt poker table in the garage.
Some of those poker games were epic and would end up in a knock-down-drag-out fight that did not exclude the female family members.
All the girls were dressed in pink with white collars and of course, white gloves.
I know that today is recognized as one of the holiest days celebrated on our planet. A time of hope and renewal.
But I could not help but succumb to the urge to be blasphemous.
You know me.
I was just wondering how the conversation went with God and Jesus when The Creator had carefully developed his plan for the salvation of all mankind.
“Uh Jesus, do you have a minute son?”
“Sure Dad. What’s up?”
“I have finally finished working out my Master Plan which will allow me to save the mortal souls of every man, woman, and child on the planet. But I am going to need you to pitch in to make it work.”
“OK. What do you need me to do?”
“You will die young after living in poverty. You will be reviled and ridiculed. Finally, you will die a slow, agonizing death by crucifixion.”
“Yes, Jesus my son.”
“I know you’ve got a Plan B, right?”
I have to go watch Ben-Hur or some of the other Easter offerings on the tube as Karen is passed out for the evening. Poor thing has been working her butt off to get the house in order. At least she has her ever-vigilant unpaid assistants Murphy and Bruiser to assist.
I am getting antsy for the upcoming college football season to take shape as once again, life goes on.
I have seen mass shootings reported daily this week, it feels like, and what the hell is that all about?
I wish everyone a Happy Easter or at the very least, a beautiful sunny day.