It’s Easter. And each of us has, as Hopkins put it, 10,000 places where we can celebrate the risen Christ. Right near the top of my own list of 10,000 are my sisters.
I have two, both younger than I am, and when they were littler my mom managed to completely brainwash them into loving the same kinds of movies she loved: musicals. (No, really, you can read one of my sisters wax eloquent about West Side Story here). And, being the only boy in the house, on Easter afternoon – every single year, mind you – I would be marched into the living room and parked in front of the TV to watch “Easter Parade.” The complaints I issued at such martyrdom put even the author of Psalm 22 to shame.
I hated it then, but I love it now. And with the gift that keeps on giving (read: YouTube), I still watch it every year. Well, this scene at least.
I’ve been walking around my house signing Fred’s lines today. And so, here’s to you, Judy and Fred and sisters-mine, together with Irving Berlin you’ve finally managed to make “Easter Parade” come in at #72 on my “places to look for the Risen Jesus” list. Not a bad spot considering there are 9,928 in the rearview.
