A Jew's First Easter

Yesterday I did an egg hunt for the first time in my life. As a black woman raised Jewish, I don't have a lot of experience with Easter. I associate it with ham, a mawkish rabbit and bad chocolate. As a kid, I never felt like I was missing anything because Passover is pretty awesome. Multiple nights of food, family and free money. Good times.

But I agreed to spend yesterday with a friend who loves the Easter egg hunt. I was down for it. It's Sunday; aside from read the Times, what else am I going to do?

Well, give me a late pass and send me to the principal: Egg hunts are fun! I hid eight eggs, my friend hid eight eggs and then we each went egg hunting. I believe I may have crowed at one point. As corny as it sounds, I was totally delighted.

Now I'm wondering what else I'm missing out on. Is Ramadan actually a soul-satisfying period of gentle starvation? Should I give a solstice party a chance? And what's that holiday George Costanza's dad made up? Festivus! I'm definitely down with holding onto a pole and airing some light grievances.

My point? I need to take more advantage of this ambiguous heritage and other people's stuff more.

No comments:

Post a Comment