Hosanna, hey, Sanna, Sanna, Sanna,
Ho-sanna, hey, Sanna, Ho-sanna.
Hey, JC, JC, won’t you smile at me?
Sanna, Hosanna, hey, Superstar — Intro to Hosanna, from the musical Jesus Christ Superstar
One of my favorite Easter songs in high school …
If there was one day everyone in the family went to Saint Mark’s, it was/is on Easter. I think we even appeased Grandma K. by going to the early service with her and then attended Sunday School.
Even though my Easters were full of beautiful new dresses and Easter hats, gloves and patent leather shoes, Easter baskets hidden behind the couch or in closets, a lot of chocolate and jelly beans, Easter Egg hunts in the melting snow, there is one Easter that has been and always will be in the forefront of my memory.
It was the Easter when I was two or three years old, and my mother had bought me a cute Easter bonnet that was perfect for showing off my flippy little curls that had grown out at the base of my neck. Grandma Kradel was babysitting me a few days before the holiday and took it upon herself and decided to cut my hair. I remember begging her not to do it. I remember telling her about the hat and why she shouldn’t do it. But she lopped off those curls in one quick swipe of the scissors. And was then astonished, and hurt, when my mom screamed when she came to pick me up.
As I was growing up, and even as an adult, Grandma Kradel always told me that I would be so much more lovely if I had short hair. I think it’s because of that Easter when I was a baby that I never cut my hair intentionally, other than as an experiment my senior year in high school, which grew out the next year. I don’t know if I’ve always been subconsciously defying her, or if I actually like having long hair.
Happy Easter! May yours be not so eventful!