See, my dad used to take me on camping trips sometimes. He's a big outdoorsy kinda guy, and has lived most of the last 30 years in Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, and various Indian reservations in Nevada and New Mexico. No, he's not American Indian. He just likes the lifestyle, I guess.
Anyway, when I was tiny, he still lived with us, because my parents were still married. How hard is THAT to imagine? Well, if you knew them, you'd know what I'm talking about. Suffice to say they've been divorced for almost 30 years now.
So, anyway, when I was 3 or 4, my parents decided that we should all go away for the Easter weekend with some friends -- Aunt Bev and Uncle Al -- to go camping. Now, I should explain that Aunt Bev and Uncle Al were not blood relatives to us. They were just very good family friends. Aunt Bev used to play her guitar and sing "Puff the Magic Dragon" for me, because it was my favorite song. Uncle Al was a short, stocky guy with a bushy mustache, but he was great fun and would always play with me and my brother when they came to our house.
So, anyway, the day before we're supposed to go camping, my little brother gets ... uh ... some kind of sickness. Chicken pox, or mumps, or something like that. So my mom stays home with him and says, "You two go on ahead and have fun." Well, probably something more martyrish than that, but you get the picture.
So my dad took me camping with Aunt Bev and Uncle Al and some other grown-up friends of theirs. I was the only kid, but I still had a great time. I pretty much preferred hanging around with grown-ups, anyway. I was a pretty serious little kid.
So, anyway, Easter morning comes, and we get up bright and early in the middle of nowhere, near some river, surrounded by hills. Very scenic. So my dad climbs out of the tent and tells me, "Kimmy! Kimmy! Look! It's the Easter Bunny!"
And, there, in the distance, was Uncle Al, with his big bushy mustache, wearing a pink bunny suit, and hopping down the hillside with an Easter basket full of candy for me. I still remember that first sight of him, hopping along. I didn't think it was the real Easter Bunny, of course, because I knew that mom was the one who hid the eggs and gave us candy, but it was still pretty fun. Uncle Al! In a bunny suit! Hopping down the hillside in the middle of nowhere!
So, anyway, that's what Easter means to me. Mustachioed men in bunny suits. Yep.