Easter Sunday. I know
Easter, I’m Catholic. If anyone knows
Easter it’s the Catholics. I know the
meaning. I know the solemnity. I know the joy.
I know Jesus. I’ve cried for
Jesus’s pain and suffering more than once this weekend. He has been forefront on my mind. But there are other things I have cried about
this weekend as well. Easter is full of
memories of my mother, and I have missed her terribly these past few days. I don’t know why I have missed her more now
than I did at Christmas, but I have.
I regret the years I disappointed her by not wanting to participate
in the Easter morning egg hunt at Kamper Park.
I was too shy to pick up more eggs than the other children so she would
have to pick them up for me. She was so competitive
when it came to the egg hunt. I was not.
I know it was embarrassing for her.
I miss being little and hunting for my Easter basket hidden
somewhere in the bushes in the front yard.
Mama was queen when it came to making Easter baskets. I would find mine wrapped in colored cellophane,
as pretty as if it came from a store already assembled. Of course there would be a slug or two that
had taken up residence that would have to be plucked off before bringing it
inside. Under the cellophane and nestled in the basket
would be Gold Brick eggs, and Heavenly Hash, and some Robin Eggs sprinkled
about with some sticky jellybeans, among other things. And it was all
mine. Years later, when she decided to
make just one basket for the table for everyone to share, I would raid the
front bedroom where she kept all the candy hidden till Easter and sneak a few
of this or that. She did not mind, she
would just buy more.
I still buy the Gold Brick and Heavenly Hash for my table
even though no one in my family really cares for it. I like them, but mostly I buy them because
she did, and I want to remember.
For many years Mama would make a lamb cake for Easter Sunday. She used a special cake mold and once
assembled she would cover it in coconut and use jelly beans for the eyes, nose
and mouth. Around the lamb would be green
coconut and more jellybeans, as if they lamb was lying in a meadow surrounded
by Easter eggs. My sister, The Middle Child, made it this year as a tribute
to Mama. I remember the cake to be quite large, but she used the same mold and I
was surprised at how small it actually is.
I must say my sister did a great job, down to the jellybean studded
meadow, as evident by the picture above.
Tasty, too.
At some point the lamb cake gave way to strawberry pie. Mama would make the kind of strawberry pie with
7-up in the mix. I’ve been thinking of
strawberry pies for more than a week now, so that is what I contributed to the
meal. Like Mama, I went a little
overboard and made six pies. She never
made anything in small portions, and I think I’ve inherited that practice. I don’t mind the leftover pie so much as I
do the leftover 7-Up. Blech.
I miss the Easter egg hunt Mama would hold each year. I think the egg hunt was something that truly
made her happy. She would be almost
giddy talking about hiding the eggs. I
can still see her standing on the sidelines, yelling “GO” to send us on our way
to collect plastic eggs, and laughing at us if we couldn’t find them. You wanted to find them for the prizes they
entailed. Prizes like soap, toothpaste, toilet
tissue, and money. She would sit on the
porch and call out numbers. If you had
the egg with the same number you got a prize, and she would fling the prize to you
from across the porch. The only thing I
can equate it to is being at a Mardi Gras parade, begging for strands of plastic
beads to be thrown my way, and hoping I get the ones with the big pearls and they don't hit me upside my head.
Today I hosted Easter at my house. My sisters and brothers and their families
came, as well as my in-laws. I count myself to be most fortunate to have
two families to combine so well they will share a holiday. The traditional food was served; lasagna,
ham, deviled eggs, strawberry pie, sweet potato casserole. I wanted to do something special to include
Mama, but to have a hunt without her would feel like having a party and not
inviting the one who most wanted to be invited.
Nevertheless, I wanted to keep a piece of this tradition alive so I gave
everyone an egg with a special prize. They
just didn’t have to hunt for them. And I
didn’t fling the prizes. Maybe I’ll do
that next year.
Elizabeth, you know your Mama was there, in Spirit! Joseph loved his prize, even if he didn't have to hunt for it. He loved the Strawberry pie, too!
ReplyDeleteGood job on the Lamb Cake. Maybe all the sisters had that mold, because Mama used to make a Lamb Cake, and Aunt Gertrude did, as well. We spent our first Easter in New England with her and Uncle Frank, and I remember the cake!