Good Friday in my childhood community was not a forgotten day. Non-Catholics, as we called Baptists, Lutherans and everything between, were scarce. This was Catholic territory. For starters, we were not allowed to do anything festive or fun between noon and 3 in the afternoon to remember the three hours Christ spent hanging on that cross. Many stores closed for the afternoon. School was dismissed. The non-catholic kids wandered the streets alone and eventually gave up out of boredom. They finally went back inside. If Mom had a car, we would go for Stations of the Cross just to have something to do.
Times changed quickly. Many years later on one March Wednesday, a student asked the prof if the 1:00 p.m. college class would be meeting as scheduled on Friday. When the professor informed him in no uncertain terms that we would indeed meet on Good Friday, the student muttered, "You Fucking Pagan.." The room exploded with laughter.
We did not meet on Good Friday.