On The Silly Side by Jimmy Del Ponte

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Easter was a special time in my family because I had an Uncle Chick and an Uncle Bunny. Really! I used to love telling people that. It was that kind of holiday when we got new shoes and new clothes. I remember it was a struggle because my parents never liked the suit jackets I liked – I ended up wearing some dumb looking thing that I hated. The trip to Anderson-Little in Medford was a pain in the butt – the only good thing about it was that we always went to Howard Johnson’s on Wellington Circle when we were done. We’d pile into my father’s old Rambler American and take the drive to hell – it was an hour of trying on hideous suit jackets that made me look like an Italian version of a mini Wally Cleaver.

The suit jacket would never fit right because my parents would buy a size bigger than I wore, so I could get more than one season out of it. The problem was I didn’t have those normal growth spurts, so by the time I grew into it, the jacket it was out-dated, stained or ripped. And the pants! When I was a pre-teen, the style was pegged pants – but I wasn’t allowed to wear tight pants. I had to wear these baggy wool  pants that not only itched but also made me look like an idiot – we called them balloon pants because when the wind blew, they inflated from the bottom. They would have been in style today.

The only kid in my neighborhood whose parents let him dress cool was Pat O’Neil – he had it all. The pegged pants, the pointed shoes, the in-style jackets and the cool haircut. One year my folks actually let me get penny loafers at Thom McCann’s – of course, I put dimes in them.

We didn’t mind looking goofy when we were really young – when my brother and I were 6 and 3, my parents dressed us up alike – complete with matching little beanie hats. Man were we cute. Mom always made sure that my sister was dressed to the nines. She had the pretty bonnet, the gorgeous dress, the stockings with little flowers on them, a little pocket book and patent leather shoes. Gilchrists, Gorins or The Children’s Shop were where the girls stuff usually came from.

The best part of Easter was the Easter Basket. Today the kids will get Webkins, Littlest Pet Shop Toys and Dora The Explorer stuff.  We always got a yo-yo, a plastic water pistol and one of those paddleball things – a bolo – the elastic holding the ball would snap off after 10 minutes, then it was just  a worthless hunk of wood. We also got pastel colored plastic Slinkys and one of those gyro-rolling  magnetic wheelie things. Fanny Farmer in Davis Square had the good stuff. We didn’t get Cadbury eggs or Reese’s Eggs but we got Marshmallow Peeps. I think they only came in yellow back then. Am I the only person that hates those bogus things? Remember what a rip off it was getting a hollow chocolate bunny? 

In the basket were also some foil covered chocolate eggs – remember the first time you tried chewing one without taking the wrapping off? It was the most painful thing ever. That was the first real buzz I ever got – I think I actually saw Satan! Ah, those Easter memories !!

My brother and sister and I would get all wired up on chocolate and then my parents would drag us to church – they actually expected us to sit there quietly with our sugar-rushes. Plus, we’d always sneak some candy with us to church too. If we were lucky, we would get Father Coughlin at St. Clements – he was a chaplain during the war and he said the mass fast. The legend was that they never knew when they would start shelling again so he had to say mass quickly – it worked for me.

Legend has it that my grandfather gave my Aunt Marie a baby lamb named Bambi one November. When it mysteriously disappeared around the following Easter, Pa told everyone: ‚ÄúBambi had to go live on a farm.‚Äù That’s the first time I ever heard of a serving dish referred to as a ‚Äúfarm.‚Äù

Some Easter traditions stay the same. – we’ll be eating the hard boiled eggs that our kids colored for days. Who cares if the white part is various shades of blues and greens. There will also still be strands of that plastic colored grass around the house for the next 3 weeks – let’s hope that the dog doesn’t eat any like last year.

Please e-mail your comments to Jimmy at: jimmydel@rcn.com