An Easter Grinch II

Current Mood: Foolish
Current Music: "Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy" by Queen

This is actually my second try at this post. Several days ago I had two whole pages typed and somehow "publishing" the post was code for "drop my words off the face of the internet" that day. So, Ryan's Easter post, take two.

*clapboard*

As far back as I can remember Easter has been a time for my family to get together and celebrate being a wonderful happy family and enjoy the wonderful spring season. We have so many traditions, it's hard to keep count. There's the chocolate rabbit, the wild goose chase, the Easter egg coloring, the plastic egg hunt, the baskets, the candy (oh how there's candy), and even the plastic Easter grass (Eastro-turf, my dad calls it). Grandma never believed in store-bought baskets, deeming them lame and impersonal. Everybody in my family instead was treated to a special basket filled with treats tailored to each one's particular tastes (literally). I have a particular weakness for Twizzlers and Mr. Goodbar. I can even remember the first year I had braces and got extra chocolate instead of jelly beans. Yes, Easter was a magical time filled with presents...a sort of Vernal Equinox Christmas, if you will.

Last year was tough though. Mom and dad were fighting, grandma felt awkward (we all did, to be sure), and we almost couldn't figure out plans for even dinner. However, everybody just sucked it up and we managed to eke out a decent Easter. Apparently, behind the scenes feelings were hurt. So I received the wonderful news at home over spring break that Easter was cancelled. Just like that.

It never occurred to me in my single digit years that the rest of the theistic world around me had been fasting or bettering themselves through some sort of sacrifice, or that they were celebrating some sort of resurrection (I think? I admit I'm still shaky on the specifics). I simply looked at it as April's loot-giving holiday (not like that St. Patrick's Day crap...I'm not Irish and a good St. Patty's day for me is not getting pinched for not wearing enough green). We even moved Easter festivities forward a weekend when Erica started going to college, so that we could still celebrate it when everybody was home. It was a secular celebration of spring, chickens, rabbits, chocolate, and pastel things. Nothing more.

Nobody questioned my motives until I was about 16 and somebody told me to "burn in hell" for not going to church that weekend. I never questioned it...it's possible my parents didn't want me to feel left out as a kid, to blend in, religiously. It was about then the awkwardness began to sink in for me about celebrating such a revered cornerstone to modern religion, but not actually subscribing to that particular ideology. Apparently, people started getting upset that I was cashing in on their deity's sacrifice without dressing up every Sunday. The pressure and the sort of hypocrisy started to gnaw away at me, eating away at my conscience and atheistic convictions. Finally, as I boldly walked to class one day, I decided I was old enough, and man enough, to cast aside the temptations of childhood confectioneries and pleasantries and assume the burden of my chosen beliefs (or lack thereof). I was going to announce to my family this spring that I was no longer willing to take part in such childish nonsense, that I was simply there to be with my family and that I didn't need anything else. I wanted to "change" at college and come back a wiser, more mature person. To be perfectly honest, I was almost looking to surprise them.

Looks like somebody beat me to it.

Still, Dad wasn't about to let his children go through spring break and adjusted Easter weekend without any sort of celebration. What better way to celebrate Easter time with tickets to a high powered high voltage classic rock and roll concert. Styx and REO Speedwagon were playing at Cincinnati Gardens and damnit, Erica, Brad, Dad, and I weren't going to miss doing something as (most of) a family.

And what a concert it was. My first concert with one of my favorite bands (Styx) playing there with my family, downtown. Where else can four aging men be treated like gods on a Olympic Mountain of pyrotechnics, dry ice, psychedelic lights, and pulse-inducing rock and roll? They played my favorite Styx song "Fooling Yourself" and hearing "Time For Me to Fly" live almost made me cry, it was so beautiful. Dad bought me a concert shirt and even offered me some alcohol, but I was drunk with rock already. I was singing and air guitaring and clapping and stomping and reeling as the crowd screamed and sang along with music made before I was even thought of. I felt a cosmic connection with the glory days of old where the music was pure and the artists had talent that they used to stick it to the man. Never mind that I saw less than a dozen people there too young to be either my parent or grandparent. I got to hold up a lighter during the Grand Illusion.

*crosses #3 off List Of Things To Do Before I Die*

But now it's Wednesday morning at Purdue. The snow has melted but it's still cold. Most of my friends are now on beak enjoying home. I blew the transmission trying to shift mental gears back into academics. It's really difficult to leave the work and then pick up where you left off, but I love being back here. I love my computer and my bed and my friends. I know soon I'll get back in the groove. Really soon, because I have two weeks before a round of midterms (early April) and then crunch time before finals the first week of May.

Here's a good stopping point. The second draft of this post turned out even better than the original...I think. I just hope I haven't forgotten anything. I've got some big news to share, but I'll save that for another post.