Tag Archives: Easter Sunday

Link’n’Blogs – 4.14.17 – Good Friday


Related Content from And There Came A Day


I loved Lincoln Logs when I was a kid. Though I never entertained the idea that I would be a designer, engineer or architect, something about putting together these wooden and plastic pieces was simply simple fun. Connecting to ideas through the blogosphere seems similar to this pursuit, hence the title of this weekly post. Each Friday, I intend to post something interesting I’ve read out there on the internets. Hopefully others will find these posts as thought provoking as I have.

Good Friday and Holy Saturday (and all of Lent, actually) lead to one place: Easter Sunday and, even today on Good Friday, we are a resurrection people. Hey, even Times Square gets it! Take a look at the videos and praise God.

 

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Filed under Easter, Holidays, Link'n'Blog, Music, Uncategorized

Easter Morning, Easter Meaning

Dad SunlightMy memories of Easter Sunday revolve, primarily around my father and his ministry as a Deacon in the Catholic Church. Reflections on his work, whatever mass he was on the altar for, whatever services he took part in, have become the backbone of my Holy Week and Easter Sunday memories.

And that’s one of the many blessings of my dad that continue to resonate in my life.

An Easter blessing.

What a wonderful day to think about Dad and a colleague who just passed away this last week and all those in our lives who’ve gone before their time.

After all, it is our triumphant holy day…

 

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Filed under Anecdote, Family, Fathers and Sons, Holidays, Religion, The Catholic Church

Easter Memories, Easter Traditions, My Family and My Dad

The Cinnamon Girl asked me when we were on our evening walk yesterday – Good Friday – what my childhood memories of Easter are. This was in the context of us discussing whether or not the Easter Bunny would visit HJ, jr, Stretch and Sous Chef. They are all “too old” for the Easter Bunny to come, but The Cinnamon Girl and I realized that whether the kids are too old for the Easter Bunny is immaterial. We are not too old and we are not ready to give up that tradition before we have to do so. The Easter Bunny will track us down Sunday morning as he has done for years.

As to my favorite memories – Though many of them revolve around my father’s life as a permanent deacon in the Roman Catholic Church, I am completely taken with the recollection of the fact that the Easter Bunny would always leave my sisters and I one, Christmas-like gift in our baskets – a toy or a book (I have, for some reason, great affinity for the illustrated Lord of the Rings story book which went along with the Ralph Bakshi’s arresting (to me) animated film – see my favorite song from it HERE) – along with amazing jelly beans, chocolate rabbits and cream filled candy eggs from Russell Stouffer’s candy.  Funny, the Easter Bunny now leaves my kids almost exactly the same thing – amazing how that works.

Holy Thursday often brought with it a Seder Supper. This was the early to mid 1980s and our parish, built in the mid 1970s, did not have pews. It had plastic chairs which made configurations of the worship space relatively easy. The Seder reconfiguration made the place look like a dining hall with plastic chairs pushed up to folding tables. During the Seder, the clerics of the parish – including my dad – sat at a “head table” on the raised dais where the altar of the church was situated normally. We would read the parts of the Seder Supper aloud, eating the food – the lamb and hard-boiled eggs and bitter herbs (parsley dipped in salt water) – as the tables all around the church followed suit.

The Seder Supper I most remember was the one wherein I decided I really, really liked the bitter herbs and took a massive portion of them onto my plate. I think I did it just to make my older sister laugh. For some reason, I felt pressure to eat all that I had taken, be it the star power of sitting at the head table or an admonition of my parents I don’t remember, and I knew that I would never be able to choke down all the parsley I’d piled, Roy Neary-like, into a mountain in front of me. Subtly and oh, so cooly, I shifted the Mount Bitter Herbs into the pockets of my brand new sports coat.

They weren’t discovered until the next time I wore the thing. Months later. I recall my mother being thrilled.

My mother, sisters and I spent many a Holy Saturday night at Easter Vigil’s, listening to the readings – the many, many readings – while waiting to hear my father read the Gospel. As he was an Associate Pastor at our parish, he seemed – at least to me, his hero-worshiping son – to out rank the other deacons at the parish and to get to be the “main” deacon (if there is such a thing) at major celebrations. But, after Dad was done with the Gospel, the long service seemed only to get longer and, by its conclusion, my sisters and I had usually drawn the ire of my mother for conducting miniature sword fights with the tapers we’d normally be given before the start of mass.

And that was when we were kids. When we were adults and attended an Easter Vigil or two, I clearly remember one of my brothers-in-law, Looks Like Dean Cain, craving his taper into a giant tooth and pretending to spit it out of his mouth repeatedly at the most inappropriate times of the liturgy.

Without a doubt, my favorite Easter Vigil was the one when The Cinnamon Girl came into the Roman Catholic Church and I got to serve as her sponsor. Beautiful, radiant and stunning, she looked like an angel to me and to the congregation as she was confirmed and had her First Communion. My parents, her mother and brother, our children, my sisters and their families, The Magister and his wife and kids were all on hand as The Cinnamon Girl made these sacraments.

Whether or not The Cinnamon Girl and I have always made it to church every Sunday since (spoiler alert – we haven’t) and whether I’ve always felt as close to Christ as I did in that moment, I can say that, this Easter, as I think about the resurrection and the mystery, I know I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even have all the questions.

I do have these memories – many of them involving my father – and I remember what The Mater has been telling me since my dad died. She’s said, time-and-again, Dad’s not worried about anything now. He has all the answers.

I shouldn’t be surprised. On this Easter, I remember that my Dad always had all the answers.

Even if many of those answers were not quite right… That was part of his charm.

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Filed under Family, Fathers and Sons, Parenting, Parents, The Catholic Church

And There Came A Hobby … Or How I Quit Worrying and Learned to Embrace Being a Geek

I am, if anything, someone who enjoys signposts. I am not talking about literal ones – though I do often get lost while driving – I am talking about metaphorical ones, the ones that we pass on our way through life. As a teacher, I am very used to particular rhythms in my schedule: the fall brings an optimistic new start. Christmas Break is a much-needed respite. Spring Break becomes the manna from Heaven God grants those of us foolish enough to enter the profession. I like counting my way through the calendar to hit those sign posts in the year.

This may be why football is my favorite sport. Predominantly there is routine. The Broncos (and 31 other, less important teams) generally play their games on Sundays. In fact, when the Broncos have a Thursday or Monday game, my internal clock is just thrown off. Don’t give me football on a Thursday!

The signpost that I most pass most frequently in my life comes my way every Wednesday (except the Wednesday following Easter Sunday). Wednesday is New Comic Book Day.

Until very recently, I would begin early Wednesday morning to determine how I was going to make my way during the day to the Local Comic Store (the LCS) to grab my parcel of issues. They would be set aside for me by the denizens of the LCS, gathered according to my Pull List and, at some higher end LCSs, bagged and boarded (This means the comic is backed with a thin, comic book sized piece of cardboard and slipped into an acid free, poly bag. And the bag is taped shut. At a high-end LCS). Still I would scan the racks – and spend more money – looking at other titles I’d not asked to be pulled for me.  Sometimes, I would engage in fanboy banter with the comic guys once they overcame their disappointment that it was me and not The Cinnamon Girl that arrived to pick up my books.

Now, we live in a part of town with no LCS. And making time to drive weekly to a not so LCS quickly became challenging. More than that, I was too often missing the Wednesday sign post, finding myself not getting my comics until Friday or Saturday.

Unacceptable.

So, I’ve switched over to the iPad to satisfy my addiction. It’s a substitute that I would rank a 7 out of 10 on the joy scale. Maybe I should rank it an 8 as a happy byproduct of collecting digitally is there are fewer comic books around the house – I have 20plus boxes of the things encompassing some 10,000 issues – but, while the stories and art come through the iPad crisp and clear and while I have come to like “panel view” (a way of reading comics that moves the image on the tablet panel-to-panel), I do miss the tactile sense of holding a comic in my hand.

What I don’t miss is worrying about what people think of me as a comic collector. I am far past that. Certainly this feeling comes from being older and more sure of myself. It also comes from a very supportive family… HJ jr, Stretch  and Sous Chef are patient when I want to show them something that fascinates me in a comic and The Cinnamon Girl  is all but sinfully indulgent of me.

Here’s the deal: read comics. Yes, I am advising you to pick up the habit. The Junior Senator has recently taken on this vice – one of the few discernible vices he has – and The Magister is about to join in as well. He has many vices. This would be a good one for him. The best comics (and I’ll write about which ones I think are the best in a later blog) tell stories with complex plots, affecting themes and compelling characters. They tell stories – in the cases of the major DC and Marvel titles – with characters as familiar as family: Superman, Batman, Spider-Man to name a few. They are short, satisfying and the good ones leave readers wanting more.

Give it a try. Really. You can read a great article courtesy the Junior Senator on the subject HEREAvengers made a billion (with a B) dollars last summer. The Man of Steel is poised to be a world beater this summer. Arrow is a surprise hit for the CW. These characters – these stories – have depth and draw readers in. Be one of them.

We all need more signposts in our lives.

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