Easter, it would seem, is celebrated en masse second only to Christmas in Buying, Dinnering, Gifting, Worshipping, etc. It seems, also, that I notice this more clearly when I step outside of the Christian mainstream on my way towards Judaism.

I just had Purim. Other Patti and I certainly celebrated it. Very scrupulously, too. I suppose I should have read the story of Esther to her, but I didn’t. Next year.

And now I look at this problematic holiday full of bunnies and bonnets and multi-colored eggs. I thought it would be harder to give up. In fact, there was no difficulty at all.

My adult life has been spent, since about 2 months out of college, married to Buck, and ensuing efforts to relieve myself of the bonds of the catholic church, which time my mother spent trying to force the catholic church down my throat. She even gave up smoking in a bargain with God so that I would come back to the church. She successfully gave up the habit, but I never went back to the church. As I said, my adult life has been spent outside of the church: Easter was never more than a social occasion/event to me. It was an annoyance of a day for which I had to remember to make reservations at the club for lunch… I never felt it spiritually.

I remember the misery of the cold, gray day two months after Peter was born when I had to get me and my still sore abdomen (C-section after 21 hours of labor) and my son dressed and ready for a formal Lunch with parents and in-laws, and holding him and staring into his tiny little perfect face in utter resignation. There was no worship that day, I tell you for certain, and no celebration on my part.

I liked the pretty eggs and the chocolate though. In their place, I have (just before Easter) Purim, with its bouncing around and conga lines and celebration and … stuff. After this, there is Pesach, with a really big dinner and lots of people around.

Ah, the hell with the eggs.