Anne got up to use the bathroom and when she came back to bed, I asked her what time was it? She answered, “Dawn, dawn of the dead, ROAR!” Then she tried to eat my brains. Happy Easter to you too, honey. I don’t think that she was making any religious statement, no zombie Jesus crack anyway. I think her commentary had more to do with the state of lethargy that pervaded the household at that early morning hour.
Later, I went to Starbucks because we were out of coffee, I had forgotten to get some yesterday and today all of the grocery stores are closed for the Easter holiday. The unionized grocery stores are about the only keepers of this last vestige of the blue laws that once ruled Saint Louis. When we first moved to Saint Louis, over thirty years ago, almost everything was closed on Sunday. Now, except for Thanksgiving Day, Christmas Day and Easter Sunday, few stores are closed on Sunday. The few holdouts are mom and pop stores that as likely as not, just don’t want to work on Sunday.
I had to park and walk a couple of blocks to get to Starbucks. As I was walking along and passing the unusually long line of parked cars, I spied one with the following bumper sticker, “Jesus didn’t ride an Elephant”. I had to Google it, to decipher its meaning. Apparently, it is political. An elephant is the symbol for the Republican Party, while the donkey is the Democratic Party’s symbol. The Bible tells us that on Palm Sunday, Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. Hence, Jesus didn’t ride an elephant. Read into it what you will.
The Post-Dispatch this morning featured a retrospective of Easter in Saint Louis. The most striking photo in the article was a 1948 picture of the sunrise service at the Muny. The amphitheater was full to the gills; all of its 11,000 seats were filled. They don’t do sunrise services at the Muny anymore, but they to offer dueling car shows on both the upper and lower Muny parking lots. We bicycled over there at the butt-crack on noon, a wee bit after sunrise.
On our way over to Forest Park, we cruised through a neighborhood that was inhabited by a giant six-foot rabbit, about Harvey sized. Chasing after this rodent of unusual size were three little kids, some armed with bow and arrows and one shouting, “Shoot him!” I hope that he wasn’t the real Easter Bunny.
We circled around the park and made our way to the upper Muny lot, by the least congested route. The upper lot is dedicated to classic cars and the lower lot hosts custom cars. What with our late and rather wet Spring the vehicle turnout was a little lower than in past years, but the day’s warm temperatures and bright skies made for an enjoyable afternoon. I got sunburned.
In addition to all of the interesting cars there were also some interesting people in the crowd. One young man wore a T-shirt with a picture of a T-Rex on it. The picture was captioned, “Licensed to carry small arms”. Anne overheard this conversation, “I can’t see him anywhere. There are too many old people here.” This man said this with a smile, but he was both older and grayer than us.