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For those of you who haven’t been diligently reading since my blog’s conception, you may be unfamiliar with Paganathanism, and you wouldn’t be alone. The religion was founded by myself and is loosely based around the universe as a whole, with final determination of morality and codes of conduct determined ultimately by a board consisting solely of myself. As the religion is generally only practiced by myself, there is little controversy from either the teachers or followers. However, much of the ritual ceremonies practiced are heavily influenced by my beautiful wife, and Paganathanisms only goddess (highly figurative, of course), and at times by my most promising, only student, Mr. Tristan David, whose wisdom you might know from the Tristan Davidism chronicling. But enough posh-wash over semantics, today I would just like to made a brief and important statement from the ongoing annuls of Paganathanism.

One of the best things about celebrating your own little brand of the holidays is being able to set the date and make it your own little festival. We celebrated the coming of Spring on the Vernal Equinox, getting out and enjoying the day’s sunshine and walking around Squirrel Hill, where we took notice that the buds were already sprouting on the trees canopying above us and that the squirrel babies and returning songbirds were setting a changing pace on time. Relaxation and making our own time of the day came completely naturally, as there were no obligatory rituals that — though held at arbitrary times — carried punctuality checks at the door. The decision to watch a movie was as spontaneous as the one to stop in for a drink on the walk home, all motivated by desire rather than tradition.

On the other hand, today we traveled the 75 miles between our home in Pittsburgh to a restaurant in Johnstown to have a big Easter dinner with my parents and all of my mothers siblings. Between reserving a Zipcar and navigating highways and making the reservation time, all with the looming reality of a return drive ahead later that night, the entire day seemed nothing more than another work day. The holiday completely sapped from it all, the magic that might be inspired by candy and magical bunnies and the Resurrection all lost to stop lights and waiting in long buffet lines. Never mind the absurdity of the family’s decision this year to all get together in the restaurant of a Holiday Inn rather than congregate at one of the sister’s houses and small talk over home made meals.

Even if the difference isn’t associated with celebrating the changing seasons versus the more Christian side of Easter, perhaps it all comes down to an eventual movement of generations, where the younger one finally realizes that they have their own traditions to set, their own lives to establish and begin to pass on to their children, rather than returning to their parents ways again.