WHAT ABOUT BOB?

Author: Bob Wainwright

There is no doubt in my mind that what I like most about Easter are the Easter egg hunts. You see, ever since I was a young lad, I have had a knack, not just for finding hidden candy on Easter Sunday, but also for retrieving it quicker than any child I have ever met.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Bob, I've heard about how many times you've tripped over your own shoelaces. How could it possibly be that you are an excellent Easter egg hunter?" Well, allow me to inform you.

First of all, it's vital that I wear sneakers. A lot of kids' parents force their children to wear penny loafers or pretty white sandals. Moreover, the boys are often hampered by slacks that have not quite been worn in and blazers that are tight under the armpits. And the girls wear dresses that they are absolutely intent on not dirtying.

If you're an intelligent person, it should not be hard to tell that right there, before the race has even begun, I have an advantage. While my adversaries wear uncomfortable clothes and shoes, I intelligently don my Nikes and some running shorts. This brings me to my second point, which is this: If you view the other kids searching for Easter candy as your friends or peers, you've already lost. Instead, it is vital that you view them as an Army officer views the enemy. You must disregard all ties you may have with those joining you in the hunt until you have picked up every last piece of chocolate within the radius of the allotted Easter egg hunting area.

The inherent problem with having Easter egg hunts is that the number of participants tends to decrease with age. Now that I am almost 22, there are surprisingly few of my friends who are interested in spending a Sunday morning in search of candy. If you ask a group of them, perhaps one will reply, "Did you say an Easter keg hunt?" But that is about all the response you will get.

However, it would take a lot more than a tiny age dilemma to keep me from my passion! With that in mind, this past Sunday I joined up with a group of Mary Hogan pre-school children to partake in what looked to be one of the most promising hunts ever.

To be honest, attending five-year-old Caroline Smith's Easter party for all her classmates was not my original idea. But when nothing else panned out, I recalled hearing Mrs. Smith mention the Easter egg hunt to another mother one afternoon at Baba's. And while I had never met or spoken to Mrs. Smith before, I made careful note of how the checkout person called her Mrs. Smith, when it was her turn in line.

Let me tell you, finding a Smith residence, even in rural Vermont, is not an easy task. Yet after eight unsuccessful tries, including one embarrassing stop at my old roommate's father's house (his last name is Smith too), I finally found young Caroline's party and promptly made my way around to the back yard. Walking around the side of the house, I noticed that 20 children were already lined up with their empty baskets, and I suddenly realized that the race was about to start. Just then, I heard one of the older gentlemen at the party yell "Go!" and everybody was off. A five-second handicap is nothing to be genteel about, even if you're an experienced Easter egg hunter like myself, so I immediately bolted out towards the lawn.

The actual hunt is kind of a blur in my memory, because of all the commotion that having a late start caused me. In order to dominate in my usual fashion, I was even forced to "accidentally" bump a few of my enemies causing them to spill some of their bounty. I also made strong use of the stand-up slide, which helped me block off large areas of candy in one smooth motion.

Perhaps my one regret from the hunt, which I marked down in the books as my 19th successful Easter in a row, was that one kid, five-year-old Elizabeth Howell, actually made out with more candy than I would normally allow an adversary.

This would not have been the case had it not been for four-year-old Peter Williams, who managed to trip me as I jockeyed for position with the Howell girl for the final batch of candy.

Seriously though, kids like little Peter Williams are the ones who really scare me in our world that seems to be increasingly marked by violence and greed.

To intentionally trip a fellow Easter egg hunter simply because he's doing much better than you seems to me, at least, to be absurd. So for all the Peter Williams' out there, I hope your candy tastes rotten, and for all the winners like myself, way to go!