My Easter Memories:

I have many fond memories of dying eggs with my brothers and sister. The day before Easter we would jostle one another around the dining room table. Somehow one of us would end up spilling one of the cups of the dye all over the tablecloth. Then we'd giggle as that one would try to mop it up as fast as they could before it reached the floor and Mom walk in. Of course Mom normally came in first due to all the giggling and the "you're in big trouble." Mom feigned being angry but seemed to be ready with a bucket of suds, mop and a cloth. As if expecting a catastrophe from one of her troops. She'd help the offender clean the mess by giving him/her the sudsy cloth while she mopped up the pooling coloring on the floor. Then she would place the tablecloth in the bucket and leave us to finish the egg-dying. She'd peek around the corner now and then as she heard the oohs and aahs we'd make as we decorated our four dozen eggs. We always got to do a dozen a piece. We had to have enough for the Easter bunny to hide for the hunt on Easter morning.

We believe the Easter bunny must have elected Mom as his helper since we rarely saw him enter our home. However, on Easter morning she'd tell us we needed to go to the other room for a few minutes so she could see if the Bunny already hid the eggs. Didn't he do that when he delivered the baskets? Or did he make two trips? Maybe he was just so old and senile Moms needed to double check on the Easter bunny like they did Dads. So we went to the other room as instructed and waited till we heard the "okay, come on out!" The hunt was on. In good weather the bunny hid them outside, I guess this must have been what Mom was checking on to see whether he hid them inside or outside. In bad weather they were inside, except never in breakable things, smart bunny kept us out of trouble that way. Our family must have had stock in Kodak because cameras were always snapping. Flashing making you blind and seeing spots. 'Will you just leave us be so we can see to find our eggs', was all we thought, whilst the grown ups kept flashbulbs popping in our eyes. It turned out years later I would do the same thing to my own poor tykes. As Easter Egg Hunts were our family tradition and there was no getting around them. The winner, one with the most eggs, got a prize. The prize? Well, some years it was a toy or special chocolate rabbit or egg (normally a bit larger than everyone else's). Later, as we became over the age of eight it was money (no more than a dollar in my time). By the time you turned thirteen you were too old for the egg hunts. At thirteen you helped the babies and small children hunt eggs.

Afterwards, our grand-father would make deviled eggs out of three dozen of them, much to our delight. Normally we would hang around him trying to dip our fingers in the egg yolk mixture before he could stuff all the scooped out shells. If we weren't quick enough we'd end up with a few red fingers that smarted for a minute or so.

Traditions are wonderful aren't they? I think so, especially when it comes to food. The magic word. Glazed ham, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes with brown sugar, black eyed peas, Grandma's sweet potato pie, collard greens, Grandpa's hush puppies, Mom's lemon meringue pie, Grand-pa's deviled eggs, Grandpa's pecan pie, okra, Auntie T's chocolate rolls, Auntie B's yeast rolls, Mom's potato salad, my jello salad, Grandma's giblet gravy, mashed potatoes (and not from any box), and sweet tea. Just all the trimmings you enjoy. Family, tradition and a feast for you to eat till you pop. Of course you just can't be like my baby brother and start to eat before everyone is ready. Everyone must be seated, heads bowed and a prayer of thanksgiving said to God for his blessings and sacrifice. After all, Easter is about God and the sacrificial offering of his Son on our behalf. "Roger, put that back, we haven't said amen yet."

Blessings to you all, amen. Okay now enjoy your Easter and it's memories.