An American Easter

As I was watching my Irish-American husband make homemade Polish pierogis while we listened to Jamaican Grace Jones sing a French pop song (La Vie En Rose), I once again appreciated the inclusiveness of the American culture. In a way, we're like the world's cultural editors. We take the good stuff, then kick the rest back with a note that says, "Needs work." Unfortunately, other nations look at us the same way a recent Ivy-league journalism grad looks at the grizzled, unkempt copyeditor at a smalltown newspaper.

I love the good ol' US of A. On this Easter Day, I just wanted to call Reverend Wright and say, "It's not goddam America. It's goddam, America's great!"

This year, we decided to cook a Polish Easter dinner for my sister-in-law who is of Polish descent. There are three really good things Poles are known for: the ability to endure "dumb Polack" jokes, Solidarność and kick-ass Easter dinners.

We skipped the whole getting- the- priest- to- bless- the- food part, but, otherwise, we tried to make the dinner as authentic as possible. Along with the pierogi we bought fresh kielbasa from a deli (where all the signs were in Polish) and we wound up ordering what the guy next in line ordered (because at least he spoke English).

We served lots of beets, horseradish and sour cream. Our guests brought Zywiec and Okocim beer along with the sweet cherry Kijafa wine (which my husband concluded would make a tasty yet lethal snow cone).

And we have enough leftover ham to keep us retaining water for at least a week.

Perhaps we'll do it again next year. Or maybe we'll borrow an Easter tradition from another culture. I can assure you that we will not be participating in the Philippine tradition of nailing oneself to a cross. I barely made it out of the Polish deli alive, there's a limit to my multi-cultural commitment.