By the time this column goes to press, Easter will be but a faint memory to most, but for this reporter, the twinges of pain in my lower lumbar region are keeping the memories of this past Easter vivid and clear.

The Easter Egg Hunt – a wonderful civilized tradition shared by families across the globe on Easter Sunday morning. The rattled nerves, sore low back, and prolonged indigestion – a not so wonderful and not so civilized tradition shared by Italian families across the globe on Easter Sunday evening. I ask you, where does one draw the line on attendance to large-scale family gatherings? Did I not learn from the stress and strain of spending Christmas with the Italians clan? At what age does an adult truly begin to behave like an adult and have the courage to say, “We respectfully appreciate your invite, but unfortunately, are not available to attend the family gathering this Easter”.

I could have sworn that one of my New Year’s resolutions for 2009 was to “turn down invitations to large-scale family gatherings that only result in making one feel large on the scale afterwards”.

I knew I was in trouble when I heard the cracking voice of an elderly Italian woman on the answering machine inviting my family to what may very well be “the last Easter Sunday we spend together”. The woman left no name but by the sounds of the guilt-ridden message, I knew it had to be my mother. Not surprisingly, she used the same theme for her Easter invite last year.

At the risk of sounding ungrateful, an explanation is in order. I am overflowing with gratitude for being born into an over-loving, over-nurturing, and occasionally, an overbearing Italian family. I am not, however, overflowing with gratitude for having parents who manage to have two kitchens but not one driver’s license. Three solid days of driving, shopping among the masses, and moving furniture and appliances in order to prepare for these family gatherings - the likes of which resemble pagan feasts where even the children dive in piercing at a multitude of meat with forks the size of spears. What has become of us? I ask you, what does over-indulging like gluttons have to do with the celebration of a religious occasion? To add insult to injury, the sad irony on this most holiest of days is that in all of the rushing around to prepare for this tremendous religious celebration, there was absolutely no time to be found to fit in a trip to the nearest church!

And where does a sore lower lumbar region come into the equation? Perhaps it had to do with the moving of three heavy, over-sized solid oak tables and some twenty or so chairs up and down stairs so as to accommodate the entire clan, countless trips up and down stairs retrieving items from kitchen number one urgently required in kitchen number two, the prep work, the serving, the cleanup and last, but not least, the dreaded moving up and down stairs of all the furniture and appliances back to their respective locations. Isn’t it interesting how over twenty people were invited to celebrate this holy occasion and I, once again found myself alone with two eighty year olds trying to hoist around more than 1000 pounds of furniture to prepare for their arrival? Next year, things are going to be different. I’ll host the whole thing at my house.