Easter. That glorious time of year celebrating the resurrection of Christ. New flowers, new buds, new life, new hope. So what do I do? Stuff my face with new, chocolate Easter candy. Oh! “My kingdom for a Rolaids!” And wouldn’t you know it? I gave the last one to Allen a few days ago. Ah, well, I deserve to suffer.
I feel like a pig at this moment. Egad! I just remembered a funny-at-the-time experience from my childhood that foreshadowed all too accurately the reality that was to be. I’m not sure which one of my brothers or sisters started it, but it became a regular occurrence whenever Mother made pancakes or French toast. Because there were many mouths to feed, cooking either of those two dishes seemed to take forever. While we were waiting for our plates to be filled, we would sing the following, almost prophetic, little ditty: “We are piggies standing in line! We are piggies standing in line!” Over and over we would chant it. And we would, indeed, stand in line, ever holding out our plates for more. “We are piggies standing in line!” It’s tragic how that innocent child’s play set the stage for our futures.