Now we can debate the argument of sanctity versus commercialized manufacturing when it comes to gift giving holidays like Christmas and Easter. We can even take the neutral ground and call it bird-in-hand, unlike Valentine’s Day, which is pure fabrication and perhaps and the most shameless money grab of any holiday. In terms of the Christian faith, we can liken the gesture of gift giving as a symbolic remembrance in ongoing adoration of the messiah. Even if there’s nothing devout about giving your kid a $600.00 PS5 or your significant other a $42,000.00 vehicle on Christmas Day.

Diatribe over. For those celebrating Easter with reverence and rejoicing, peace be with you and may you take solace in the gaiety of Spring colors and warm moments spent amongst family. For those of you beating feet this weekend to procure flowers, egg dye and sugary wonder affixed to names you hear more in this season than the rest of the year (i.e. Cadbury, Mary Sue, Bracht’s, Palmer, Peeps and Lindt), may you do so with a spring in your step as personified Easter bunnies and may you find smiles over artificial grass sprouting inside your kids’ Easter baskets.

In 1978, you never saw a more thunderstruck child on Easter Sunday than me to find a basket from my folks, loaded with chocolate eggs, jellybeans, a tall Palmer chocolate bunny and…a Kenner toy Star Wars X-Wing Fighter plane.

It remains an unprecedented Easter gift I’ll always cherish, even if I no longer have the toy. Any child who was there when the original Star Wars played in 1977, then brought back to theaters a year later can get the significance of this most righteous gift. The greatest moment of my childhood was age seven, seeing Star Wars: A New Hope upon release, and again for the return engagement. I was submerged into Star Wars. I had all the original run of action figures and the original figure storage case. I had Luke Skywalker’s land speeder. I had a TIE fighter. I had Star Wars comic books, magazines, trading cards, Burger King glasses and the two LP score from John Williams, which I played nearly every day for months. I had Star Wars bed linen and curtains, which I’ve since passed down to my son. Later in 1978, I’d have the holy grail of Star Wars toys: the Death Star playset (which I did recover a couple years ago, huzzah).

But the X-Wing? You never saw such gratitude, not just my repetitive thank yous, but from taking that toy with me on Easter morning to show off. Inserting Luke in his orange Rebel Alliance pilot uniform into my new treasure (action figures sold separately, of course), I ran around the house swooping it. I did the same at my grandparents’ place, whooshing it from one end of their old Cape Cod to the other with the family chattering away and snickering at my emphatic playtime. I can still smell the ham, corn and lima beans from their stifling kitchen. You pushed down on R2D2’s blue and silver dome behind the cockpit to snap open the closed wings to form the “X,” as it did to much slower effect in the movie. You pushed a button in the back of the X-Wing to trigger a buzzer and a lighting of a tiny red light at the fore of the spaceship, denoting a laser fire.

Only the spectacular rumbling chariot race scene in Ben-Hur, a family Easter viewing tradition for most of my life, could ground me from my doings in a pretend galaxy far, far away. Even when we’d gone home after family dinner and settled in for the commercial interrupted marathon of The Ten Commandments on ABC (another annual family custom at Easter), I kept the X-Wing landed inside my lap. It was a day which belonged to Mark Hammill as much as Charlton Heston.

Only the time I got nothing but comic books inside an Easter basket later in life could compare.

–Ray Van Horn, Jr.