Make what you will of the imagery. I believe in Spirit.
I woke up to a wash of bright sun and knew it was not going to last. Took this quick and dirty picture just before the cloud cover slammed shut and a quiet rain began. No chance for a better shot. I'll pin him up on the board with the other Littles for now. It was all about saving that one scrap.
For unknown reasons, Easter in our non-religious family evolved into a mini-Christmas where the boys were more excited by one or two small, but coveted toys than they were about the candy. Coloring (and eating) the hardboiled eggs was all me. In that spirit, Colin shopped for a small pail of treats and toys and left them at Charlie's doorstep on his way home from working the overnight shift.
While we were still in New York, visiting and feasting with family was a given. Someone always made a ham, something I never cooked. Get dressed up? Not that I can recall. Church? Never.
It's very disturbing that in the name of religion, people will be defying local ordinances and going to Church there to further propagate this pandemic. Probably a lot of people who ONLY go to church on Easter and Christmas while decent people stay at home and practice loneliness to keep families and unknown healthcare professionals safe. These selfish fools will be clogging up the hospitals and morgues in two or three weeks. Damn them all to hell, if you believe in that shit. Think I'm biased against the biggest racket ever created by man? You betcha.
Although neither were affiliated or practiced any religion, my parents tried foisting church hypocrisy on us before we were old enough to call it out for the bullshit it was, hauling us somewhere vaguely protestant where I'm sure my Dad sat in the car and smoked
New shoes (and clothing) for Easter was a common financial burden for so many parents back then. All I wanted was a new pair of sneakers, not another pair of patent leather flats that I might only wear that one Sunday and wouldn't even fit come September when school started. I used to daydream about painting my feet black with my Dad's shoe polish just to see if anyone would notice.
Appropriately, weather from hell, aka Alabama, is bearing down on us, the worst coming after dark tonight. I am settling in with things to occupy my mind and my hands. An image of a French Market bag floated by on the web. I blinked and said, I can do that. Why didn't figure in.
4 comments:
the photograph....there is a wrinkled black and white somewhere
maybe my brother has it?, but off and on all my life i've looked
at it. a maybe 8 or 9 year old me, staring at the photographer in
an easter outfit...the navy blue all stiff and ill fiting, the hat
with those fake flowers...that girl looks so what?....so alien.
how funny that not one of you are looking at the camera in that old photo!
You might be able to make out the leash in my hands. We had just gotten a dog, a small part cocker, he was just out of the frame, his fate. His tenure with the family was short-lived, sadly. He bit all of us at one time or another. Gone "to a farm in Connecticut" by summer's end.
Thinking of you on this stormy day/ night
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