Easter, A Christening, and HBO

This morning I was remembering Easter, twenty years ago, when my youngest son was only a few months old. We had chosen Easter with it's myriad of meanings, as the day for his christening. We offered him up to the universal dance of his life as well as to our special community of family and friends. His godparents officially received him on that day, promising to look after his spiritual growth. Although I have to admit I've never read the book, I always loved the title of Hillary Rodham Clinton's It Takes a Village and the concept it implies, taken from an old African proverb. We were imploring our own little village to commit their loving support in the raising of our child.

He was a winter solstice baby, born on the light side of the cusp, as darkness gave way to light, in the morning after the darkest night of the year. I called him Little Bringer of Light. He came as a birthday present for his brother who was born eight years and one hour earlier.

I feel so honored now when I think back, remembering the three dozen or so family and friends who drove 25 miles up into the mountains and joined us on that cold Easter morning for a hike down the Butte Creek trailhead. His father and I had hiked there shortly after his birth and buried his placenta under a little dogwood tree.
We created a circle and performed all sorts of meaningful ritual. Truthfully, my memory offers just a few glimpses of details of all we did and said, and the purpose of doing and saying all those things on that special day. We built a fire and anointed him with some holy water a friend had given us upon returning from some journey to some holy place. There was a connection with the symbolism of the cross and the maxim "As above, so below." There was music and song. Afterwards, a friend invited all of us to their home for a lovely brunch for and we continued celebrating into the afternoon.

Today, twenty years later, we will celebrate with family. My mom, and brother and sister-in-law, a bunch of our kids and grandkids are all coming over. It will be fun and loud and crazy and I'll be pleased that we are all together and then I'll exhausted and happy when they finally go home.

And then...tonight, the first episode of the last season of the Sopranos premiers and yes, I admit it, Jerry and I are hooked. These are his people folks--well, from the neighborhood anyway, back in the day. Several years ago, a psychology student of mine insisted that I would love the show and implored me to watch it. He loaned me a recording of the complete first season which we watched on a marathon run, only switching it off when absolutely necessary. Before the second season started we actually went out and bought a big screen t.v. and hooked up to satellite--just for this one show. We didn't even have cable before that! Since then we've gotten addicted to other HBO and Showtime series such as Six Feet Under; The L Word; Big Love; Weeds; and Queer As Folk. Some of these have already ended their runs and as far as the Sopranos go, well quite frankly the violence they perpetrate and perpetuate is getting a bit much for me to stomach and I'm relieved this is their last season. They are despicable killers, myopic degenerates. But we humans are a complicated bunch and they are also just like the rest of us, people with family and friends, searching for connection and trying to make their way in the world. And in their defense, mostly they just kill each other. Like attracts like they say and perhaps this is why I sleep safe and secure at night. I'm grateful to be able to turn off the t.v. and pick up a book of Rumi poetry. They don't have that option. Oh, I almost forgot, it's a t.v. show...well still.

Right now I'm ready for a few chocolate Easter eggs.