Easter, Same thing, just Different

There is a certain rhythm to life, a regular progression to the world. Around the first of March, the first crocus pop up, small and purple a harbinger of spring. Then the hardy daffodils take the stage, followed by the tulips. Then the redbuds bloom with the dogwoods right on their tails. When a favorite bleeding heart of mine blossoms at my Mom's house, then I know it's time for Easter.




My had been a little depressed lately. She wasn't sure if she was going to have Easter dinner at her house this year. The back porch was a mess she said. She is a bit of a pack rat and a collector of junk. The porch did look pretty bad. There were a couple of things weighing heavily on the 89-year-old woman. For one, Daniel, the grand child she had pretty much raised from the age of 10 had moved out to a house in small town 30-miles away a month ago. His dad got his 1-year sobriety pin a few weeks ago, and they were making a new life out there.

Secondly, my sister the drunk had moved in with her before Christmas making her life a pure hell. She had no place else to go. You might check an earlier posting titled "You know You're a redneck, when" That's when she fell off a ledge underneath a railway bridge a last February when she was in a drunken stupor. Unfortunately, she lived. She had a broken back and was in intensive care for 10-days. I guess she's Fortunately, she was in jail right now for outstanding warrants, giving us a little reprieve. While she was in the hootch, Mom cleaned her room and found 39 bottles of cheap vodka.



Yes, nature turns in a very steady pattern , with changes to the routine taking aeons, but, the human rhythms can very from year to year, albeit, subtly. My sisters and I came together and made the tradititional Easter Dinner happen.

Like usual, it was a beautiful, warm and sunny day. Like usual, I started the day with love making, coffee, and the Sunday paper in bed. A half-hour before church, I started stuffing plastic eggs with the change I've accumulated. 10:30, time to head to Maywood Baptist Church for Easter service. Had to get there early because the congregation has grown so much in recent years.

Yes, I attend church regularly... every Easter, like clockwork. I was even baptized on Easter in this church in 1990. I'd go more often, but, at $10 a pop, it gets a little expensive. The church has gone through it's share of changes since my baptism. The congregation was much older then. The average age is much younger, now. The music has changed drastically, back then, it was a piano and an organ. The choir wore white robes. The music director was more classical. Now days, they have a full band, two percusionist, two guitarist, three horns, piano, and a synthaizer. If there was more room on the stage, I'm sure they'd throw in guy with a kazoo.

The numbers are much more livlier, with singers hopping up and down and a lot of arm waving in the air (like they just don't care). I have to admit, they sound very polished and profesional. They appear to be doing the job of filling the pews, and the coffers. I'm sure the older crowd, what's left of them, don't care that much for it, but, they're on fixed budgets anyway.

They are also much more high tech, with a large video screen in the back ground. They displayed the words to the songs and also worked in scenes from the Mel Gibson Passion of the Christ movie. One thing that remains the same though, and that's Brother Spradlings sermons. He comes on a half-hour into service and delivers a very intelectual message (kind of out of place for Independence). I love his sermons. They are very thought provoking and delivered very well.

In the end, he asks anyone in the congregation to come forward while the choir & band play the finishing number, to just talk with him or to accept Christ. A tall Gothic-looking chick in a short skirt and stripped knee high socks goes up to speak with him. Probably saying "My mom just doesn't understand me." Duh!

Then a man and his wife (actually, I think they were just living together) to accept Christ and become the newest member of the church. He had tattoos on his neck and completly covering both forearms. I assume the rest of him was painted as well. Yes, the congregation was changing.



12:00, A quick exit and it was back home to get out of the church clothes and into some shorts. Time for a beer and then time to hide the Easter. 12:30, time to hide the Easter eggs. I went to filling them with money when my Susey's kids starting ttanistioning to high school. This kept them interested in the hunt. I would always put a $10 in one and a $5 in another. The hunt would be very spirited and fun. There'd be additional prizes for who got the most eggs.

Sue's kids are in their 20's, now, but, there is a new flock taking over. Two of my other neices had kids, Anthony, who is cute as hell is about 2-1/2, and the latest one is "Little David". Actually, his name is Alexander, and she calls him Xander, for short. No, way in hell



1:00, time to eat. Honey baked ham, asparagus, and a lamb-shaped cake with cocanut icing. Food good. 1:15, the egg hunt begins. We have a big yard, I never mow until after Easter, so there are a lot of places to hide. This goes on for a while. When I was a kid, they always had the hunt in the living room. One time, years latter, I pulled out an encylopidia and a choclate egg rolles out. A chocalate relic of the past.

1:30, we count up the Easter booty. Daniel found over $20 worth. I hid the $5 egg up in a tree and gave them the clue that they had to use something to get to it (the ladder). When they spotted it there was a mad scramble. Some were throwing things trying to knock it down while Daniel struggled with the heavy ladder. It was hillarius.

2:00, time for the "obligatory nap". This signifies the end of another, traditional, Easter celebration. Mom looked very happy. It was all worth it.
So, mom's grand kids are have moved past the easter egg hunting stage. But now, her great grand kids have taken over. The tradition continues... just different.