The decoration I see when down South visiting my son's family, though, has to be a first for me. It's not that this front-yard decoration is sacrilegious. Honestly, it is completely the opposite: it is uber-religious. But, that's not what makes it so unusual.
First of all, this display is set up in the midst of a huge neighborhood. There are hundreds of houses, all the cul-de-sacs included, in this neighborhood, and only one of them has this display. There's an association, and, quite frankly, I'm surprised the display is set up at all. Secondly, it's kind of ... how to say this nicely ... tacky. It looks like a middle school shop project gone bad. Maybe not completely bad, but bad enough. C+/B- bad. Thirdly, it's just too tempting.
What do I mean, you're probably thinking to yourself. How could a holiday display be so unusual as to stump the likes of me? Let me explain.
The house in question is on a hill. About three-quarters of the way up the hilly front yard stand three homemade wooden crosses. Propped up to look like it goes into the hill itself is a tomb entrance made out of cheap wood, possibly balsa. In the front of the tomb, a large circular piece appears ready to be rolled sideways.
Holy (and I mean that in multiple ways) crap! The Tomb of Jesus is on this guy's front lawn.
For some background, I want to talk about going to a costume party once dressed as a nun. When I walked in alone, some guy said to me, "Hey, sister! Who are ya here with?"
My boyfriend (later husband) was readjusting his sheet/toga and was about thirty seconds behind me. "Jesus!" I answered, motioning to my Sicilian-Scottish date who arrived in full holy regalia, including the crown of (real) thorns and some strategic (fake) blood, the sandals, the rope belt, and all. He had longish nearly-black hair and a full beard and mustache along with a great construction worker tan. He could easily pass for the Messiah's identical twin even on a regular non-Halloween day.
My oldest son inherited not only his father's Anglo-version Jesus-like Romanesque classic looks, he also inherited the impish sense of humor. Not that he harbors any evil thoughts toward his neighbors or religion in general, but he is, as am I, fascinated by the whole front-yard Tomb of Jesus decorative motif, and he wonders whether or not the round circle on the tomb will be rolled aside on Easter morning.
What would happen? Most assuredly, the poor bastards would have heart failure. The next thing that would happen is that I'd be getting a phone call to help post bail.
The thing is, though, that if I still had the costume in with the rest of the leftover Halloween stuff, I'd probably help my son dress himself up like Jesus just to pull the prank off because it's the kind of thing his father would do, if he were still alive. I can just picture my late-husband now, driving down the street past the balsa-wood tomb and gauging the probability that this might be his greatest stunt to date, this literal scaring the buh-Jesus out of hundreds of people in this quiet, cul-de-sac Southern neighborhood.
Then my son would most probably be sent back North, reviled as that damn sacrilegious Yankee, and I'd have to stifle my own twisted sense of humor while admonishing him that nice people don't scare other nice people on Easter morning by jumping out of Jesus's makeshift tomb and yelling, "Hey, what time is breakfast? I've been stuck in that damn place all night long waiting for my people."
I'm not going to lie, though. I'd pay good (bail) money to see it.
