I am half Jewish and half Italian. My parents told us we could choose our religion when we got older, but because I grew up in an all-Catholic town, with my mom’s Italian all-Catholic relatives a few miles away, we celebrated all the Catholic holidays. And let’s face it, would you rather give up bread at Passover, or eat chocolate and jelly beans? Who was I to complain?
Anyway, the point being that really what I think of when I think of Easter is the renewal, the re-birth, the miracle of Spring. And this winter, where we were literally stuck in our houses (some of us in our pajamas), with snow up to our disbelieving eyeballs, reminds me, with all due respect to Catholics everywhere, and in particular to the Pope, who I think is the bomb, just a teeny tiny bit of the Jesus story. And today with the sun out and blue skies, we too emerge from our big old winter coats and celebrate the energy the crocus and grass sightings are giving us. Yes, we have made it through the storm(s). It’s spring, Boston. And we are rising up for a helluva summer.
But I digress. Happy holiday du jour. The sun is on high. And Wooo to the Hooo, that is something all by itself to celebrate.