Easter at 212

Easter's over, but last weekend, hearing the screams from an Easter egg hunt nextdoor, my thoughts traveled to Pratt City and all those Easter egg hunts held there. Of all the pictures I have of 212, many were taken at Easter -- maybe because of the new clothes? Groupings of me, my brothers, me and my brothers, me and my brothers and various cousins -- all holding Easter baskets almost as tall as us. There were such good places to hide eggs in that huge side yard. Not to mention the cememt flower pots at the foot of the steps going up to the front porch. You could aways find an egg or two there, and you could always count on finding an egg in Gindaddy's vest pocket.

Maybe we were a rowdy bunch (as J. says) because I don't remember any rules about -- let the little cousins find some eggs or the little cousins can look for eggs here. Nope. It was every boy and girl for themselves. It must not have been too bad because I have only fond memories. (J. was an only child and only grandchild for quite a while, so....things were different for him. Like....if another child looked at him, his grandfather snatched him away. Okay. Maybe not entirely true [but close], but I like to kid J. about it.) Moving on....

There was this park in B'ham. Avondale Park. I don't remember it, but I have lots of pictures of me taken there on Easters past, when I was a toddler -- in frilly dresses and hats, standing next to a lake with ducks floating by, my dad bending down next to me, his arm around me. I guess to keep me from jumping or falling in? I remember hearing that the egg hunting areas were divided into age groups with prizes for finding gold, silver, and bronze eggs. But, like many thing in B'ham, times changed and people stopped going to parks. I guess that's when the egg hunts began being held at 212.

That's where the egg-hunting screams from my neighbor's grandkids took me last weekend. Back to a city that, at the time of my memories, was already headed in a direction noone could foresee, a direction I so wish could have been changed. In my own way, I understand when Obama says he can't renounce his pastor because he's like family. I can't renounce B'ham. It's part of who I am. And because of Obama's statements I may quit thinking when I say -- I'm from B'ham -- I must follow with -- and I'm sorry for all that crap in the past. I'm just gonna say -- I'm from B'ham and if you've got a problem with that -- it's your problem.

Sheesh! Maybe my family does have that rowdy attitude?