Oh yeah, eat your hearts out all you hard hitting newsmen, I’m the only one who isn’t afraid to go after the big targets! If I had a can of worms, I would be cracking it open right now.
It’s been driving me mad ever since New Year’s Day, when I stumbled into the supermarket with my friends. All of us suffering a hangover so big it had its own mushroom cloud, only to be greeted by the delish sight of Easter buns?
For a minute I thought “Wow, I really had a lot more to drink than I thought. I’ve woken up 4 months later. I’ve missed Aussie Day and more importantly, now I will never know if Kush will tell Shabs that Stacey's baby is, in fact, his on EastEnders.”
Even by the standards of supermarkets that seem to want to turn the 12 Days Of Christmas into the 12 Months Of Christmas Shopping, January 1st seems a tad early. Hang on a minute, is it because petrol prices are so high these days that Santa and the Easter Bunny need to share a ride?
I need to point out I’m not having a go at Easter here. Like everyone, I love remembering the death of the son of God in the traditional manner of eating chocolate eggs delivered by a magical bunny (you know just like it says in the Bible, although I think someone had been smoking the burning bush that day.)
But do we really need 3 – 4 months of celebration? I mean, how hard are parents going to make the Easter egg hunt this year? Even Sam and Frodo could find them in 3 months. Let’s be honest, if you told kids that Osama Bin Laden had chocolate, most of them could have found him in a few minutes flat..
At least with Christmas pressies, the shops can justify that some people need time to shop and save?
I suppose what really bugs me is the complete commercialization of Christianity. Now, I’m no God-botherer and I have never been know to bash a Bible that wasn’t asking for it, but even I find it all a little tacky. I mean, if they are willing to flog Easter buns and eggs for 3 months, what’s next? “Remember this is the weekend that we solemnly remember the death of the Lord who died on the cross for our sins … speaking of crosses, we have massive discounts in the hardware section all weekend.”
And you know if the supermarkets are making a buck, it won’t be long before the big corporations try to cash in, too. You can just see the ads: “We all love the story of Jesus feeding the masses with loaves and fishes. At McDonalds we will be celebrating that all month with our Filet-o-Fish McMiracle meal deal.
Would you like absolution with that?”
I remember, I was watching a man set up a Valentine’s display in a shop window this time last year. It was just after New Year’s Day, but shop people need to get a jump on love, I guess.
Don’t get me wrong. Shop owners are fine people. They give us choices and keep us informed on the important holidays.
Think about it, how would we know it was Valentine’s Day or Christmas, Easter or Mother’s Day, if the shop people didn’t stay on the ball?
The other group to count on, is kindergarden teachers. They always know about special days and when it comes to Valentine’s Day or Mother’s Day, what the kindy teachers set in motion, no shop person could ever hope to compete with.
Which reminds me ……….
This is kind of personal. It might get a little syrupy, so watch out.
What I’m talking about here, is something I think of as a ‘treasure box’ given to me by my nephew when he was 3 and made at kinda, of course.
Once it was a simple white box and now it’s decorated with glitter, feathers, dried pasta, magazine pictures, shells and pebbles.
It’s gotten a bit moldy now, but once you look inside, you’ll know what I mean.
There are all these bits of paper with “Hello Katie”, and “Happy Volintime” and “I luv you Katie” written on them, and silly little red hearts everywhere. Stuck to the bottom of the box are exactly 23 “X’s” made out of macaroni. I’ve counted them more than once.
There are bead bracelets and a necklace, a ring out of a lolly dispensing machine, hand drawn ‘portraits’, favourite pieces of string, dead flowers, marbles, pictures carefully cut out of magazines and even a little favourite stuffed teddy bear.
I can honestly tell you, the treasures of King Tut are nothing compared to this.
I cried when he gave it to me. I just think it’s evidence of love in it’s most uncomplicated and pure state.
He’s 7 now. He still loves me, though it’s harder to get direct evidence. It’s love that’s complicated by age, knowledge and confusing values.
Yeah sure, this is probably the worst kind of simpleminded female drivel imaginable, and I’ve, more than likely, embarrassed us both by mentioning it. But it beats the hell out of anything else I have, for comfort.
This box stands for my kind of love and I want to take it with me when, and wherever, I go.
Happy 2016 to all you wonderful people. xxx