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COMMENTARY
April 23, 2011
Easters past
Human memory is not to be trusted, as any courtroom clerk can attest.Narratives are constructed in the mind, which adjust chronology, omit big facts, and alter many little ones. Even without conscious intention to mislead, the accused will remember "his version of the story." And this may be quite compelling, until juxtaposed with another version. So, too, with the collective memories of peoples, through history. But neither is human memory to be ignored. For it also retains hard little facts forgotten in all the "official" accounts, and has the power to demolish them. Moreover, when memory is most like a dream, it has the virtue of dreams. In particular, people are likely to remember most vividly not what precisely happened, but how it felt, and what they concluded from it. We often retain the overall flavour of old times, even when we have lost track of the ingredients. Alas, "flavour" is among the hardest things to describe. It requires the skills of a poet. Dreams are so hard to describe, because they are almost all flavour. I have been sitting here in my ivory tower (11th floor; gorgeous view) trying to remember details of an Easter parade through Georgetown, Ont. in the year of grace 1963, almost half a century ago. I was a child of 10. I had no reason to remember particulars: big Easter parades were then a matter of course, and I could hardly foresee a time when they might seem exotic. But here I am referring not to the parade as a collection of floats, bands, and marchers, but instead to the atmosphere of it. If I described the parade, it might sound very much like an Easter parade of today. It was not, however. It was joyful, in a much different way. And it was not one event in a calendar of events, but the event: the whole town presented to itself. It was Protestant, but Christian. There is a general issue here. We do not realize that the present is impossibly exotic. We forget that what is commonplace now may soon be strange and rare; that, "the past is a foreign country." We forget that small items of derisory price will some day command big money at auctions. Our material surroundings are always fading, and the people we love and hate grow old. We seldom appreciate how precious is the moment. To do that is to open one's eyes. Little things fade, but also, big things. I have been trying to remember that Easter parade, because it was big and the town was small. In other words, I have been trying to remember a time when Easter was a major event in Canadian life, not only in Georgetown. A time before "March breaks." And there were Easter eggs, to be sure, and chocolate bunnies, and other items that have been retained into the age of the Internet. (Search for "Canadian Easter traditions" and that is all you will find for millions of Google pages.) But also, Easter cards, like the Christmas cards that are only now travelling to extinction. And the perennial Easter lilies: symbolizing the purity of Christ, and His Resurrection. The fragrance of them comes suddenly to mind, though I can't be sure the memory is of Easter. For there was a particular tradition in Georgetown, dating well back into the 19th century, and to the rougher "multicultural" rivalries of those days. (English Canada was never ethnically nor denominationally homogeneous.) Catholics were few, yet there might still be scuffles between Catholics and Protestants when the Orangemen paraded on the 12th of July. But the earliest Jesuit circuit priests had taught their Catholic parishioners in Georgetown to bring lilies to the Orange Parade. To watch, peacefully, with lilies. And Easter bonnets, too, remain part of the iconic lore of Easter, though they had once no significance in themselves. Irving Berlin's immutable song fixated upon the most visible part of costumage now long obviated by fashion. The truth behind it was, very simply, that one wore one's very best clothes for Easter; and new clothes, if one could afford them. And there was little ostentation, when the whole town was dressed in its finest, and every man, woman, and child a dandy. Of course, Easter parades remain, and bunnies hop, and eggs are hunted, and this is for the good, even if it has all been de-Christianized. For in a trice it could re-animate, resurrect: and the meaning behind symbols be recovered. Therefore keep the symbols, however empty they may now appear to be. The present is evanescent, but symbols live on, and are carried even in the hands of the unknowing. The white hare, for instance: a symbol of innocence, and defencelessness, running away from evil. The egg, hatching, as the soul is reborn into everlasting life. There are secret meanings in these things. David Warren
© Ottawa Citizen
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