Musings on Easters Past: A Few Nostalgic and Humorous Memories

My family was not connected to any specific religion so Easter took on a more secular meaning than a true religious one in my childhood. My father, a man of science, was a Doubting Thomas believing that science in time would reveal the mysteries of the universe but because my mother had been raised Catholic, (her father had been Catholic) he had to agree upon their marriage that any children born would be raised in the Catholic faith. He abided by that but both he and my mother agreed that my sister and I could make our own decisions once we were near the age of reasoning. Thus, Sunday mornings as a child were always an interesting time for me. I was awakened by my maternal Presbyterian grandmother, (Nana) who lived with us, dressed into my Sunday best, walked to the bus stop with my older sister until I was old enough to do it by myself, and attended Mass. Meanwhile, back at home, “Nana” listened to her music, Mother and Dad slept in, read the Sunday papers and all had a relaxing morning. The only Sunday of the year that routine altered, was Easter Sunday!

On Easter Sunday there was a rush of early morning activity as first, the door bell would ring very early as our Easter corsages were delivered by the florist. My Dad bought corsages for all—my grandmother, my Mother, my sister, me, and flowers were delivered to my paternal Lutheran grandmother, a shut in, who lived several blocks away but on our same street. Next, when we went into the kitchen, we saw our Easter baskets emptied of the colored eggs we had placed in them the night before and now filled with goodies, plus a brand new fluffy stuffed rabbit for me and a small gift for my sister. After breakfast, my sister and I then began the competitive hunt for those eggs. (She always found more than I did!) We then dressed and lined up outside, with everyone decked out in true Easter finery complete with our corsages, for the annual photo shoot! We always received new outfits from top to bottom that were for the Spring and Summer days ahead but worn for the first time on Easter. Gone were the bulky parkas, woolen caps, winter weight jumpers, skirts and sweaters, boots and mittens. They were replaced with lightweight spring coats, summer bonnets, white gloves, new purses, patent leather Mary Jane shoes, and beautiful “party wear” dresses or suits and blouses! (I recall a couple of Easter Sundays where fresh snow had fallen and the temperatures were cold. Although we begged to put on our new things, they had to remain on hangers and wait until Spring really arrived—what a disappointment!) I have some wonderful photos of us dressed in the fashions of those years. During the time of World War Two, our hats, and spring coats took on a very military look, while Post war, there was a marked difference, definitely more feminine and brighter in colors. Once the photos were taken, my Grandmother would leave and meet up with two of her sisters and they would attend Easter services at the Presbyterian Church. Never mind that for the prior fifty-one Sundays, they all remained home— but by Golly, they showed up faithfully on Easter. (I always found that curious and puzzling as a kid, but was smart enough not to question!) My parents went back inside as my sister and I proceeded to St. Mary’s church for Mass. When we returned, we would see that our parents had transformed the dining room table— it was now draped with a beautiful tablecloth, set with our “fancy” china and crystal, along with the Sterling silverware and a seasonal centerpiece, in preparation for the feast we would have later in the afternoon. After a light lunch, Nana donned her apron and headed to the kitchen to work her magic while the rest of us did our version of the Easter Parade by walking the several blocks to my other Grandmother’s home to show off our finery and visit. Later my Dad would take her a full plate from our Easter feast along with one of the colored eggs.

As an adult, two particular Easters remain vividly in my memory. One year, my sister and brother-in-law spent a few days with us, and we gave them our master bedroom while we slept downstairs in the family room. As Easter morn dawned, I quietly went upstairs towards the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee and as I got about half way up, I saw that our dog had obviously been ill and had vomited on the stairs. Not being fully awake or mindful of my words, I uttered under my breath, a very unlady-like “Oh Shit!” only to hear my brother-in-law’s voice (who I had no idea was up ) say from the dining room “No, that was up here and I already picked it up!” Funny! When our children had been bedded down the previous night, we had placed the four laden-filled Easter baskets on the closed-key section of the piano and our dog had apparently jumped up and knocked one down and devoured some chocolate during the night or early morning. All I can say is Thank Goodness for a caring veterinarian as we had one mighty sick dog for a couple of hours but he quickly recovered.

The other incident occurred a few years later on a Good Friday when my two youngest teen-agers were home on break from high school and decided to hand make some Easter chocolates. I used to do that and so had the recipes, directions and molds etc. and they had helped in the past. I was working for the state at the time and was pleasantly surprised when our office received a phone call that morning from the Richmond office saying that we could all leave at noon that day as a bonus. Needless to say, I was out of there shortly after noon and had not called home to say I was arriving early. As I opened our front door, at about 12:40 I was greeted by two very surprised, horrified and shocked offspring of mine, who couldn’t believe their eyes that I was home! They were obviously upset and begged me not to go into the kitchen which only made me move even quicker to it and there I saw a sight that still makes me laugh. It was a scene straight out of a I Love Lucy episode except that even her writers couldn’t have done it justice. Seems about half way through, they realized they needed more bulk chocolate, so they had made a quick run to the confectionary store to purchase more. Unfortunately, they had also been in the process of making caramel for filling, which involved the slow boiling of a vented can of condensed milk in a pot of water for a long period of time. Either the can had not been properly pierced or they were gone longer than they thought, but to make the proverbial long story short, they left the house with the can slowly boiling, and it exploded as they returned. First of all, let me assure you that they were unharmed as they weren’t in the kitchen when it happened and there was no fire. But what was there, was a hot, sticky, oozing caramel dripping from everywhere one looked— from the ceiling and overhead light, down from the stove’s vented hood, dropping off the burner knobs onto the floor, hanging from the edge of two adjacent cabinets and slowly congealing on the counters, even splattering across to reach the curtains and rod from the window. “Caramel, caramel everywhere but ‘ne'er a bite to eat!” I have to admit it was one of the funniest sights I’ve ever seen. The clean up took hours and yes, it was definitely a take-out dinner that night….It was also, I believe, the last time handmade chocolates and candy were ever attempted in our household!

Anyway, Happy Easter and Happy Welcoming of Spring to All!