| April 2000 But Easter is not Easter anymore. It has migrated. We use it as a family day. When I was little, in the 1940s and 50s, we would make new clothes to wear, and we never went bare-headed to church. We even made our own hats. I still have them. Stuck in the top of the closet. And we would have a flower corsage to pin on. It was important that mother had an orchid. We girls would have carnations. It was the celebration of spring - and we wore pastels usually -even if there was snow on the ground. The first crocus or daffodil was cause for celebration when you can have minus degree weather. [When I got older I made a brown suit wardrobe and used it for my college clothes. It had a checked top and skirt. Not pastel. I do not look good in pastel.] Easter lillies banked the alter and I loved the hymns in church. While my boys were young, I always brought in 1-2 Easter lillies (and replanted them outside after blooming - sometimes they would bloom the next year - sometimes not). And sometimes, in later years, I would get myself an orchid. I would also see that we had new clothes, my children and I. We would also visit the mall Easter Rabbit. Although this was not as big a thing as Santa Claus. I think of all this because I saw a pile of boxed orchids at the supermarket yesterday and almost reached for one. Except my church (I am an old-fashioned Congregationist protestant - from the white church with the spire like you see all over New England) is not here and my children do not go to what is. Neither do I. I celebrate my religion at home and taught the bible stories to my kids at home. My favorite church services are sitting on a log high in the Sierras in God's own temple. My best Easter Sunday was the sunrise service in the open at the Hollywood bowl. You can't top either one. I used to love the hymns. I have my own hymnal and play my son's electric piano - with the sound set on organ. This year, my older son arrived with his new Yamaha keyboard (wow!) and he and the younger one played dueling electronic pianos. Except it was not church music! The elder is composing music. The younger was showing off his artwork. Talent overflows. I watch these two in wonder. Neither one would sit still long enough for music lessons - but they tell me now that they used to just sit and listen whenever I played the piano. I play my songs from my childhood classic piano lessons. Not as well perhaps as I should but with feeling. They were always exposed to artistic things. Museums, Crafts. Leather work in scouting. Water colors. Fingerpaints. Lots of clay. Animation. (I have all the Disney videos.) Christmas oprnaments. Beadwork. My sewing. Halloween creations. I also always bake bread. My tradition. This year I did a sweet bread with brown sugar and real butter. Melt in your mouth. My boys like my home-made bread - they eat it in chunks. Try equivalent to six slices at a time. (No - I was not using a machine. This is hand-kneaded home-made bread. ) Another tradition we have is coloring eggs. Some years this has been fancy - glitter, patterns, painting, etc. One year I put the little stands around them and stickers all over them. Other years the kids would get creative. The tradition was that they died the eggs and the Easter bunny hid them. I was always the Easter bunny - and I made baskets and put in candy and stuffed rabbits and that Easter basket plastic shredding would be everywhere. I no longer make Easter baskets. This year it was dip the eggs quick - all 24 of them - and my younger son hid them! At 2AM. Probably because a) it was late and b) I forget where I hide them. In San Diego it was easier to hide them - 3-4 to a room. Lots of rooms. This house is limited. Choices are limited. But still, I am absent minded. We found one from last year recently. Carried it carefully to the garbage bin. This year, the elder would hunt and the younger would supervise. The older one is an expert. Climbs into everything. Methodical. Thorough. I just stood around and watched them tear my house apart. I actually found two of them. In the course of this thorough search, they found an egg that, due to the color, is not from this year's batch. It was also light in weight for a hard-boiled egg. Whoooops! The older one threw it at the fence. This made sense since they had been making egg bombs with the newer ones. (Heat in microwave and puncture quick.) (Preferably not aimed at the new white ceiling.) This egg was liquid. He hosed down the fence after I complained. Any rodents in the area will be ill if they eat that one! We are still not sure of its age. I swear after that recent find that we had accounted for all of last year's eggs! We double counted what we have located of this year's batch. We think we have them all. I hope so. Meanwhile, I have light lavendar pillar candles in my tall wrought iron artistic candle holders, two lillies, and pastel pink and blue glass eggs and pink and blue bottled candles. My new choice for holidays is flowers and candles. We have more than enough stuffed rabbits. My living room is full of stuffed bears. Lower the fuss. Lower the dusting. Lower the clutter. No big canned ham either. No fancy dishes - polished silver sit down dinner. I had a ham steak, rice and a brown sugar - pineapple - cloves sauce, Plain food. We even sat on the floor since the Yamaha was on the table. Low key. (Actually lower keyed than usual.) Not bad. Laid back. I have enough other stuff going on that holidays better be holidays. A day of rest. The dishes are already done. 12 of the 24 eggs are safely in the refridgerator. And one slice of the bread is left for breakfast. There is no leftover ham. Which is good. Because I am actually alergic to ham. |
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