Why do I let my daughter get me into these things? I didnt want to play the Easter Bunny, on the Sunday of the big game. I wanted to be sitting on the sofa, feet up, popcorn and munchies at the ready with my favorite beverage, cold, on the table. Instead, Id be sweltering inside of an old smelly flea-bitten rabbit suit, passed down from volunteer to volunteer never getting cleaned or deodorized in the process.
I drove to Hayes Park, parked, and carried the suit inside a large plain bag, made out of an old sheet decades ago. My daughter ran off to partake of the festivities, which were mostly helping little kids find candy that had been strewn all over the park earlier in the day.
"Oh, Mr. Marcus, so good of you to volunteer," greeted Mrs. Blanton, organizer of the event and mother of Marci, one of my daughters close friends.
"You can dress over in Mr. Bunnys Hutch."
She pointed to a small building over on the side of the clearing whe...
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