While I don’t remember what our sources were, after all this was way back when, 1977 as I recall, 40 years ago, when I and my friend Karen decided to do our first scripted show on our weekly radio program “Just between us” which up until that point had been a “go get stoned in the desert, start talking about whatever, and then drive back to KLIX radio station, sit down with headphones, and nod to the engineer that we were ready. Ready to continue the conversation just between us, as if we women were talking intimately with each other over a cup of coffee at a kitchen table. Sometimes we would include a guest feminist, other times not. We did take questions from the audience.
Our hour-long show — which the station scheduled adroitly during Monday night football — was popular with other feminists, few and far between in Twin Falls, Idaho at that time. I had returned to my hometown in my 30s to marry my high school boyfriend who happened to be the Editor of the Twin Falls Times News. As you can imagine, given my already radicalized point of view, eventually Dick’s mainstream career conflicted with my singular path, though I had no idea what it was at the time, and though I did (and always will!) very much love him, I just had to leave and strike out on my own — again.
Doing that radio show was one of my first forays into public life in Twin Falls, a town whose social life was dominated by its various religions, all Christian, including the predominant Mormon. Karen and I had been going along for a year via stoned spontenaity, when we decided to do the scripted show. And what was it to be about? Why “The Pagan Origins of Easter”!
Well, we should have known that would be our last show. The station just couldn’t stomach all the nasty calls it got afterwards, and cancelled us.
Here’s something I found on the internet today. There are plenty of other choices. Just remember: easter, eostre, estrus!
There’s lots of youtube videos out there, too. I notice that even ABC published something on the pagan origins of easter three days ago.
P.S. I do miss the Easter hats Mom used to buy for her six daughters to wear to Mass on Easter Sunday. Except for that year when she didn’t get enough hats and I had to wear a golf hat — with tees. Utterly mortifying.