on easter
It must be noted that Easter has the lamest decorations and general ambience of perhaps any major holiday. When I say Easter I am speaking of secular Easter, for Christian Easter has a significance. It's still not my favorite, but at least there is a purpose. Secular Easter is the most pointless of any holiday, including Valentine's Day.
Consider the second-rate treats, the things you don't even want to eat. The chocolate bunnies wrapped in cellophane. The waxy chocolate eggs you must pick from plastic grass, as from a tangled nest of dental floss. Marshmallow Peeps. Butter lambs. Cadbury Creme Eggs. And I know what you're thinking: at least jelly beans are good, aren't they? Yes, but they are also deeply flawed. Purple, black, and red jelly beans are bad, and there is always the risk that when someone offers you a jelly bean of any color, it's secretly a spiced one. I have never met a person who finds spiced jelly beans other than revolting. I expect I never will.
Next, you will notice there are no good songs for Easter. Probably Target will put out a commercial for various wares to the tune of "Peter Cottontail," a song without rival when it comes to putting you in the mood to punch faces. There is also an old-timey song called "Easter Parade" that might get trotted out. This is the type of song my parents like to shrill whenever something is happening in real life about which lyrics have been written. It works like this: you say something, or something happens, and then my mom and dad sing something with vaguely relevant lyrics until you want to scream. For instance, when in eleventh grade I announced my plan to attend junior prom, I was subjected to these lyrics for weeks: "A white sport coat / And a pink carnation!" And when Mary Kate and Michael said they'd decided to name their daughter Ivy, we could not go more than five minutes without hearing "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy." Easter songs are of exactly this ilk: songs you'd like to forget and easily would if people didn't continually disinter them.
Although it's not unique to Easter, I would be remiss if I did not also discuss the corporate urging to buy gifts for a traditionally non-gift-giving holiday. Granted, Valentine's Day is another big offender, when you are made to believe it's reasonable to give someone an iPhone or a Buick, but Easter gifts are even more preposterous. I didn't even know people gave Easter gifts until some of my atheist friends inventoried their loot one year in ninth or tenth grade. I was floored.
So much for treats and gifts. What of Easter movies? Name one. I'll wait.
Really.
OK, you remembered 2011's "Hop," with the voices of Russell Brand and Hugh Laurie.
Name one good Easter movie. I won't wait, because it can't be done.
What's that? "The Ten Commandments"? Let's talk about that. Yes, it's a spectacular old movie, but why do television stations bring it out for Easter? Has it anything at all to do with the holiday? Not really, no. You might as well play Russel Crowe's "Noah" in December and call it a Christmas movie.
The only aspect of this holiday for which I will tolerate any dissenting opinion is Easter dinner. I concede that my distaste could be a matter of opinion and not an immutable truth. Easter dinner is typically ham. I don't hate ham, but neither is it my favorite. The whole dinner is typically stripped of things that are my favorites and replaced with things I merely don't hate. Additionally, in recent years Kim and I have usually had Easter dinner at Kate and Keith's house. Again, this is not disagreeable per se, but it is rather a bore and involves awkward interactions with Keith's extended family, whom I barely know.
I will say this for Easter: it is a harbinger of better things to come. Winter's over, Second Winter's about halfway finished, and sunlight and fair weather are no longer distant abstractions but real things that are going to happen someday soon. In grade school, Easter meant summer vacation was on the horizon. Now that I'm a teacher, I have that to look forward to again. There is a type of magic to spring, even if it's not exactly a real season here in Western New York.
Additional thought: what if leaves turned "spring colors" when they first emerged? Like pastel colors. Would it look cool, or would it just be chintzy like all other Easter paraphernalia?
Another additional thought: what's with Buffalo's Broadway Market? The only time anyone gives a rip about it is around Easter, but even then, what's the appeal? It's like somebody set up a deli inside a parking garage in the hood. Thanks, but I'll just buy my pierogies from Tops.
Consider the second-rate treats, the things you don't even want to eat. The chocolate bunnies wrapped in cellophane. The waxy chocolate eggs you must pick from plastic grass, as from a tangled nest of dental floss. Marshmallow Peeps. Butter lambs. Cadbury Creme Eggs. And I know what you're thinking: at least jelly beans are good, aren't they? Yes, but they are also deeply flawed. Purple, black, and red jelly beans are bad, and there is always the risk that when someone offers you a jelly bean of any color, it's secretly a spiced one. I have never met a person who finds spiced jelly beans other than revolting. I expect I never will.
Next, you will notice there are no good songs for Easter. Probably Target will put out a commercial for various wares to the tune of "Peter Cottontail," a song without rival when it comes to putting you in the mood to punch faces. There is also an old-timey song called "Easter Parade" that might get trotted out. This is the type of song my parents like to shrill whenever something is happening in real life about which lyrics have been written. It works like this: you say something, or something happens, and then my mom and dad sing something with vaguely relevant lyrics until you want to scream. For instance, when in eleventh grade I announced my plan to attend junior prom, I was subjected to these lyrics for weeks: "A white sport coat / And a pink carnation!" And when Mary Kate and Michael said they'd decided to name their daughter Ivy, we could not go more than five minutes without hearing "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy." Easter songs are of exactly this ilk: songs you'd like to forget and easily would if people didn't continually disinter them.
Although it's not unique to Easter, I would be remiss if I did not also discuss the corporate urging to buy gifts for a traditionally non-gift-giving holiday. Granted, Valentine's Day is another big offender, when you are made to believe it's reasonable to give someone an iPhone or a Buick, but Easter gifts are even more preposterous. I didn't even know people gave Easter gifts until some of my atheist friends inventoried their loot one year in ninth or tenth grade. I was floored.
So much for treats and gifts. What of Easter movies? Name one. I'll wait.
Really.
OK, you remembered 2011's "Hop," with the voices of Russell Brand and Hugh Laurie.
Name one good Easter movie. I won't wait, because it can't be done.
What's that? "The Ten Commandments"? Let's talk about that. Yes, it's a spectacular old movie, but why do television stations bring it out for Easter? Has it anything at all to do with the holiday? Not really, no. You might as well play Russel Crowe's "Noah" in December and call it a Christmas movie.
The only aspect of this holiday for which I will tolerate any dissenting opinion is Easter dinner. I concede that my distaste could be a matter of opinion and not an immutable truth. Easter dinner is typically ham. I don't hate ham, but neither is it my favorite. The whole dinner is typically stripped of things that are my favorites and replaced with things I merely don't hate. Additionally, in recent years Kim and I have usually had Easter dinner at Kate and Keith's house. Again, this is not disagreeable per se, but it is rather a bore and involves awkward interactions with Keith's extended family, whom I barely know.
I will say this for Easter: it is a harbinger of better things to come. Winter's over, Second Winter's about halfway finished, and sunlight and fair weather are no longer distant abstractions but real things that are going to happen someday soon. In grade school, Easter meant summer vacation was on the horizon. Now that I'm a teacher, I have that to look forward to again. There is a type of magic to spring, even if it's not exactly a real season here in Western New York.
Additional thought: what if leaves turned "spring colors" when they first emerged? Like pastel colors. Would it look cool, or would it just be chintzy like all other Easter paraphernalia?
Another additional thought: what's with Buffalo's Broadway Market? The only time anyone gives a rip about it is around Easter, but even then, what's the appeal? It's like somebody set up a deli inside a parking garage in the hood. Thanks, but I'll just buy my pierogies from Tops.