Happy Easter!
Once upon a time there
was a small, rather isolated village nestled among rolling green hills and
wildflower meadows. It was a place that time had seemingly forgotten where
traditions were treasured and life was simple and uncomplicated. Everyone knew
everyone and greeted each other warmly as they went about their tasks each day.
The children gathered to play each day in the center of the little village, in
the tidy park like square that was bordered by the village hall, a small
grocery, a tailor’s shop, a single chair barber and beauty salon, and a small
bakery. Of course every idyll has its strange side (think rolling green hills
dotted with silent wind turbines, bunnies, and flowers with a cooing baby faced
sunrise that just so happens to also shelter hideous creatures also known as
Teletubbies). In this story the village baker, Bartholomew East was the town
oddity. He was different from all the rather small in stature, clean shaven
villagers. He towered over all (at least a full foot taller than the mayor),
had a deep voice to match. He also had unruly hair sprouting from almost every
uncovered part of his body, including his ears and especially his arms and the
knuckles on the backs of his hands. Among the children he was known behind his
back as Beast, because of course, not only his looks but the name on his
mailbox was B. East. His baked confections were delectable enough to help the
villagers overlook his strange looks and sometimes slightly stranger
proclivities. The baker had one display case off to the side in his bakery that
held sweet rolls and buns in the shape of different body parts. What started
out as a variation on bear claws had taken on a whimsy all its own. In that
case were displayed sweet roll ears, noses, donut hole toes and eyeballs, etc.
You get the picture? But under all that
hairiness Mr. East was not only a good baker, he was a genuinely kind and
generous villager too. On Saturday mornings the village children could always
count on receiving a small free treat at his bakery, each in its own white
bakery bag, along with an admonishment to remember not to litter by leaving
those bags on the ground in the square because if the children did there would
be no more Saturday treats. Mr. East knew the bags would quickly be emptied, so
tasty were his treats and the children seemed to relish eating lady fingers and
such. But one fine Saturday the inevitable occurred, a crumpled white bakery bag
was discarded on the ground rather than the trash can and it stood out very
obviously in contrast to the bright green grass of the village square. Mr. East
was very sad and the following Saturday he knew the children would be too. He
took a picture of it with his IPhone where it lay then picked it up and
disposed of it properly. When the children arrived the following Saturday with
great expectation Mr. East showed them the photo on his phone and sadly took in
the disappointed looks on the faces of the children for Mr. East was not one to
go back on his word. There were no treats on that sad Saturday. As the children
filed out looking longingly at the sweets in the display cases they passed by
the baker had an idea. Come back tomorrow
after church, he told the children and he knew they would because Sunday
mornings were his busiest. On Sunday morning, instead of bags he had a row of
brightly colored baskets lined up on the top of the children’s favorite display
case, each with a special treat nestled carefully inside. The children’s faces
lit up with smiles as he handed each one of his special baskets and admonished
them to bring the basket back next Saturday for another treat. Finally there
was only one small boy left in the line and he hesitated to come forward and
claim his basket. The baker knew this was the litterbug, and when he stuttered
his apology and promise to do better he was forgiven and given a basket too. As
the boy dug into the basket a look of pure joy came over his face and he
exclaimed, “B..B..B…East your bun knees are the b..b..b..est!”
Happy Easter!
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