Today is Palm Sunday. A Christian holiday. The day Jesus Christ rode into Jerusalem on a donkey.
A donkey instead of a horse. Reasons two fold. First, to show humility. Second, to evidence to the people that He came in peace and not as a warrior king.
The people scattered palm branches in front of Jesus.
His entry into Jerusalem triumphal.
Less than a week later, Jesus would be dead.
Though not a major holiday, Palm Sunday was one my Italian family celebrated. Generally at my grandparents’. The whole family. Aunts, uncles and cousins.
The meal not unusual. That would come next week on Easter Sunday. A huge bowl of ziti. If a special touch at all, melted mozzarella on top of the ziti. A meat sauce, of course. Meat consisted of the meatballs, beef and pork which were part of the sauce. A huge pasta bowl of such meats. Salad. The meal concluded with espresso and fruit.
My grandfather would start dinner with a blessing. He would take a small piece of palm and dip it into a bottle of Holy Water he kept. He would say a few words and sprinkle us.
The palms were a big deal. You had to go to Church to get palms. They were given out during Mass. When I was a kid, all the palms a person wanted. In later years, each person attending Church got one. Cost, scarcity, or what? I could never figure it out.
My uncles were pros at making crosses and other things out of palms. Small crosses, large crosses. Horses and other animals. Like the balloons of today which can be molded into anything.
The Italian custom was to visit the homes of friends after Mass. To exchange palms. A hug and kiss. Followed by a Happy Palm Sunday!
I was invited by friends on Sugarloaf to party last night. Drinks at someone’s house first. Then dinner at Square Grouper.
About 20 miles each way. Too far for me if I was drinking. I wanted to have a few drinks since I have been avoiding as best possible alcohol while on a diet.
So, I opted for Berlin’s alone.
Shawn and Gage bartending. The lovely Bria singing. Tuna for dinner.
After dinner, I sat in the lounge for a while listening to Bria sing and sipping a Bally’s Irish Cream.
While at the bar, a hug from behind. It was Lynda Frechette. Together with husband Bob, ML and Brad. All good people. Especially Lynda who does for everyone. They were having dinner inside at A&B.
Bob was wearing a blazer. Confirmed my thought expressed earlier this week that the no jacket Key West no longer existed. Bob had jumped over the fence.
Another couple was listening to Bria also. Charlie and Margo. Margo visiting from Maine. Charlie originally from Fonda, New York. Like 70 miles from my home town Utica. Small world.
Bob now lives full time in Key West. On a boat located in a Stock Island marina.
Walmart, where fort art thou Walmart?
Roughly 10 years since it was announced that a private group was going to build a Walmart on Rockland Key. 335,000 square feet with some smaller stores.
Still not built. Key West Citizen reported yesterday size now 150,000 feet. No date to begin construction advised.
The problem has involved the land owners and developers. Ten years of fighting over money, including a court case.
I wish they would get the project off the ground. We need a Walmart in the lower keys. We wear shorts and t-shirts. Brooks Brothers we are not.
We also need a cheaper place to purchase groceries.
The Key West Citizen wrote on the first page of this morning’s paper that taxis are going the way of the dinosaur. No question about it. Such the case, the City Commission should get off its ass and approve Uber and Lyft for Key West operation.
Let me finish with Trump’s bombing of Syria.
I was/am generally opposed. Not our war. I don’t see the English, French or Germans bombing anyone. They’re too smart.
On the other hand, once the Rubicon has been crossed, Trump should have done the job correctly. Destroyed Assad’s Air Force.
What did Trump do? Fifty nine missiles. Directed at one air base. Twenty planes destroyed. Twelve killed.
In retaliation for 70 plus lives lost. Proportionate? No way!
Even worse, not one of the runways was damaged. It is said the U.S. spoke with Russia in the afternoon and advised what we were going to do. I suspect that during any conversations, Russia said no potholes in the runways, please.
The Democrats describe the bombing as a pin prick. I have to agree. Not a political conclusion on my part. A common sense one.
Enjoy your Sunday!