Easter Revisited

It is a wonder how my mother managed to dress six of us for Easter Sunday-dresses, hats, shoes, bow ties. What a grand and glorious day it was. 

Easter preparations meant pulling out of the attic the Easter baskets each year and the straw that was carefully stowed away in Baggies. The smell of vinegar still brings me back to that kitchen table of long ago-with PAAS dye in tea cups magically transforming our eggs. 

We woke up early Easter morning to find our baskets filled with candy-a chocolate bunny-and a small treat hidden under the straw. Heading out to Mass was essential. We all squeezed shoulder to shoulder into one pew. The church was filled to the brim with similar hats and dresses and bow ties-and you knew just about everyone there. Mass was a place you not only listened to the bible stories and long-winded sermons, but you also learned to sit quietly and come together as a community. Some services were standing room only and you had to arrive extra early to make sure you were able to sit together as a family.

After Mass there was always an Easter Egg Hunt at the park. Before the invention of plastic eggs, the egg hunt used real dyed hardboiled eggs that were actually hidden throughout the park-in the grass, the nooks of trees, under piles of leaves, around the playground equipment. There was so much excitement in the air along with an abundance of energetic kids on a sugar high. The park was divided into areas for each age group. We stood at the starting line waiting for the siren to begin the stampede. Prizes were awarded if you found a special egg. I remember one year my younger brother won a large stuffed rabbit. He was immortalized in a photo, along with all of the other lucky winners, smiling and holding onto that bunny on the cover of the local newspaper. Live bunnies hopped and nibbled in the window of the Five and Ten.

Our mom prepared a wonderful Easter dinner and though we were all filled with an excess of chocolate and jellybeans we managed to find a little bit more room for this special meal. It was as if mom was an endless miracle worker-without rest or complaint.

At school, just prior to Easter, generations of kindergarten classes visited a local farm and each of us was given a baby chick to take home. We had to provide a shoebox with airholes that we had cut in before bringing it to school. On the bumpy school bus ride home we held tightly onto the warm shoebox which held our new little treasure. I named my chick Peep-and she grew to adulthood until my dog Poncho got hold of her one dark night. My family blamed it on a raccoon so I wouldn’t hold it against Poncho and I didn’t find out the truth until way into adulthood. I have often considered gathering all of the stories of what happened to each of those baby chicks that were sent home into the hands of five-year olds-I think it might make for a collection of harrowing tales.

Today, each holiday, each tradition has undergone many transitions as the world evolves into something I’m not quite prepared to understand. A glowing community of families and tradition, hats and bow ties, simplicity and faith-is shifting away from many of the customs we once held dear. One deep concern I ponder is, what are we moving towards? 

Wishing you all a glorious spring!