Life in the Ville by Jimmy Del Ponte

This article first appeared in the April 12, 2009, edition of The Times.

I took the boys to Sears to buy spring jackets on Saturday. The place was mobbed with families buying Easter clothes. A couple of kids were screaming while the mothers attempted to get them to try stuff on. The fitting rooms had lines, and there were clothes on the floor that people plopped there instead of replacing them on the rack. You might say that mayhem was running amok in the store.

My kids don’t wear “dress” pants, so on Easter Sunday, they will probably just wear the new black jeans I bought them, with a decent shirt and their new jackets. One kid could use some new sneakers. However, if he gives me any crap about going to the store to try them on, no sneakers. He couldn’t care less if he wears new ones or old ones. Getting them to try on clothes is a horror show. It’s very stressful for me. My boys have only had a few pairs of dress shoes. The number of times they wore them made it a poor investment. They mainly wear hooded sweatshirts with zippers. Times have changed.

When I was a kid, my mother dictated what I wore, where I wore it, and when I wore it – but that was okay. We made the annual Easter trip to Anderson Little. My mom had a built-in homing device that led her directly to the pants that would be the most uncomfortable for me. Mom picked the trousers, I put them on, and stood on a stool. A guy with a tape measure came over and wrote down numbers after making me feel very embarrassed.

I stood in a pew at St. Clement’s church and felt like my legs had bugs crawling on them. Never again would I ever wear wool. When pants started being made with polyester/Dacron and other acrylic blends, I thanked the Lord. Standing up in front of the class, getting berated by a nun is bad enough on its own, but when your legs are itching like crazy, and you can’t scratch them, that’s Hell. When I was very young, my brother and I had matching wool hats to cap off our rash-inducing outfits. Oh, what lovely memories. Mom always made sure my brother, sister, and I were always dressed to the nines, and she did a great job! Comfort was not factored in.

Clip-on ties were a great invention for kids and parents. Not only was it a time saver, but it was fun for us. One of the most popular gags was yanking another kid’s tie off. The only bad part about that was if the kid was wearing a real tie. Can you say pain in the neck and detention?

And there is nothing cuter than a little girl with her new dress, pretty bonnet, and dainty Easter purse. It goes perfectly with a brand new, shiny pair of patent leather shoes.

I loved to tell my friends that I had an Uncle Bunny and an Uncle Chick. How cool was that around Easter time? Bunny was short for Bernardino, and Chick was a nickname for my uncle’s last name.

For Easter dinner this year, I am not doing the Honey Baked Ham thing. Every year, I make that long drive up Route 1 and stand in that stupid line. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what the big deal is. Last year’s wasn’t that great. I think it will be a simple ham from Johnny’s or BJ’s this time. I should have saved the aluminum Honey Baked wrapper from last year so people would think it was an overpriced Honey Baked. Ham, potatoes, corn, and rolls, that’s it. And a great big apple pie from BJ’s. This year, I really don’t feel like standing in any long lines to buy Easter fixings. I just get mad, and it takes away from the pleasure of the day. But that’s just me.

Then it’s the annual egg hunt at my house. I fill plastic eggs with money and hide them around the house. I vacuumed and swept on Saturday, so I hope nobody finds any dust bunnies.

And don’t forget to buy some white eggs to color. Last year, I was up to my (rabbit) ears with hard-boiled, colorful eggs. I’m pretty sure I tossed a few out.

Palm Sunday just passed, and the church on the corner of Francesca Ave and College Ave had its annual donkey parade down College Ave – I missed it this year. In the meantime, there are enough jack-asses speeding down College Ave to tide me over.

The stores have been jam-packed with everything Easter since they took down the Valentine’s Day stuff. This year’s new offerings are little plastic eggs shaped like ladybugs and edible fake grass. Yes, that’s right, edible fake Easter basket grass. Next year, they will have edible baskets and candy wrappers, too, I bet. Speaking of candy, I am the only person I have ever heard of who does not like marshmallow Peeps. Give me a Cadbury or Resses egg any day!

In the past, Easter meant trips to Gilchrist’s Basement, Thom McCann, and Gorins. A last-minute drive to J.M. Fields, Zayres, or Bradlees for the right belt or accessory may have been needed, also. We went to church and fidgeted from the uncomfortable new clothes and brand new shoes that were not broken in.

We keep those precious memories of our brothers and sisters and ourselves, all decked out in our new Easter clothes. If we are lucky, we have some black and white photos around to bring more smiles.