Good Friday means different things to different people. For me, it’s the day I met my only pet. This was no puppy, iguana, or goldfish. In fact, as a little boy, I had a rooster and, thus, remain partial to these majestic creatures.
My family and I named him Chickadee, after hilarious curmudgeon W.C. Fields’ film My Little Chickadee. I got him in second grade, when public school teachers hatched eggs in incubators and then gave their students the ensuing baby chicks on Good Friday. This was what transpired in Mrs. Yellen’s classroom in 1972. Try that in the Los Angeles city schools today. You would be fired for Christian nationalism. (RELATED: Why Good Friday Is the Best of All Days)
The idea was that these baby chicks would serve as living, breathing Peeps. They were much like those delicious, irresistible, neon-yellow marshmallow candies that might not ‘Make America Healthy Again.’ One key difference:…
