One of the earliest memories I have is one of my most depressing. And yet over the years it’s become a very groovy, psychedelic dream. It would have been the first Easter since I moved to Colorado so it would have been 1975. My parents told me, “Get excited! We’re taking you to an actual Easter egg hunt in a park in downtown Denver.”

We had just moved from La Crosse, Wisconsin so Denver still seemed very big and intense to me. So I woke up to an Easter basket that Peter Cottontail had left me and great excitement to go to this Easter egg hunt that was a professional one.

We arrived to the park and that’s when everything became horrible. It was 1975 and all the kids looked rich to me. They were wearing amazing suits and dresses. They looked like kids from the late 60’s-early 70’s. Everything was beautiful. The sun had only been up a few hours in this lush green park with huge, towering trees.

And there I stood wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I was the only one dressed that way. And then the Easter hunt began and I felt so out of place and the children ran quicker and faster than me. Every time I saw an egg some little girl wearing a bright pink chiffon dress with pink patent leather shoes would push me aside and grab the egg first.

I ran from bush to tree thinking eventually I was going to get at least one egg. And I didn’t. All the wonderfully beautiful children stood around smiling with their eggs. I didn’t even get one. So now the shame that hung on me was even worse. I forgot to mention all the parents were dressed in lovely suits and dresses. My father was wearing brown dungaree pants and jacket and my mom had her trusty brown and yellow poncho on.

Some woman came over to me and gave me an honorary chocolate egg. She may as well have just spit in my face. I remember walking back to the car. I think even my father was disgusted with me. I remember my mom saying, “You have that Easter basket at home!”

Driving back I kept thinking, “That was pathetic.”

But now over the years, I realize my parents and I were dressed loose, free and easy. I can still see all those kids running around in their amazing, colorful suits and dresses and how great they looked. Like little Easter gods come down from Mount Olympus. The way that morning smelt like all Spring Easter mornings. Magic.

I was thinking about this a few weeks ago and realized, oh, of course. I was the slow sperm. Only the quickest and fastest sperm gets the egg. What a beautiful, symbolic way to learn about creation. That’s Nature. She only wants the quickest; that’s who wins. There’s no “everyone’s a winner” at an Easter egg hunt. And that goes for the sperm as it races towards the egg in beautiful, psychedelic suits and dresses on a beautiful Easter morning in 1975.

UN-FACT: Easter is the high Partridge Family Temple holiday.

UN-FACT: Your parents lied to you when they told you the Easter Bunny didn’t exist. And if you still believe them now then you’re stupid.

UN-FACT: Mad Men on AMC was a 7-season story about Easter.

Fun-Minute Egg by Whale Song Partridge
Traumatic Childhood Memory by Shaun Partridge

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