Attribution: Becproud, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
By Bill Stokes
Kickass, the doorstop dog, reports that the keeper awoke on this Easter Sunday anticipating the feast to come–ham by son Mike, Saskatoon berry pie by Phyllis, and appetizers by the keeper and neighbors Hester and Larry.
In his aimless salivating and boundless cultural confusion, the keeper is left with this burning question: why on this holiest of days to the multitudes when rabbits lay colored eggs and residents of the Czeck Republic celebrate with a traditional dish of carp and potatoes, why are we here in the enlightened US marking the day by eating the most substantial part of a pig?
Turns out there are multiple answers with the keeper favoring the one that has an English lord of several centuries ago being killed on Easter by a wild boar, and his grieving wife then decreeing that henceforth all the peasants would eat pork on Easter in the Lord’s memory.
(Eating Easter ham is not descended from the first pilgrim Thanksgiving since there were no pigs in North America until Columbus and the other invaders brought them.)
Bon appetite from the keeper and Phyllis to all pig-eating peasants!
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