Easter memories are made of chocolate -- and that strange smell in the closet
”As a child I concluded there was way too much church involved with Easter,” my youngest son mused thoughtfully. “You do at least four services in seven days. And on top of that, no watching TV. Hard to believe I didn’t end up more churchy.”
I had no comeback. I had just made the rookie mistake of asking my family to recall meaningful events from their childhood Easter celebrations. You’d think I’d know better.
Number One daughter chimed in with a memory of an egg that was trapped “in a wee suitcase” in her closet, placed there by a fun-loving brother no doubt. The smell was overwhelming. The egg was invisible. Took us days to track it down.
I tried my hand at a portrait cake when the kids were in their Star Wars phase. But what was supposed to be a menacing portrait of Darth Vader didn’t turn out right and the cake looked more like Darth’s less successful twin brother, Darrel.
On the other hand, my grandma baked perfect Italian Easter Bread Babies, which she called “KuKulich.” I never knew what that meant and if you do, it would probably be merciful not to tell me. She wrapped her patented secret recipe dough around a raw egg. Definitely NOT colored. The egg cooked as the bread cooked. Or not. She worked with joy using an outdoor brick oven, with no electricity or running water, snuggling the Easter Babies into the oven next to her usual weekly 40 loaves of bread for her family of 10.
Safeway is selling popcorn bunny rabbit tails. (No word of what happened to the rest of the bunny.) I’m taking the easy route and making Easter trail mix to send to far-away family members. Granola, wheat Chex, sesame sticks and M&M’s Something for everyone. I recommend this. You can pop in Halloween candy that’s been around for several years. Nobody will ever know.
Spring is traditionally a time for joyous song. I wouldn’t know of course; I have been gifted with a voice that would stop a clock at 40 paces. Often, a song leader will say, “Everybody sing — well, not Dorothy, of course.” To get around the voice problem, I was given piano lessons as a child. You didn’t know I could play the piano? Well, don’t get used to the idea. I can’t.
In the early ‘40s, in the neighborhood around St. Joseph Church in Spokane, all of us children who had no piano of our own at home took lessons at the convent. You waited all morning for a half hour with Sister Aghedia who was given to such shrill pronouncements as “If you can’t behave, I’ll push your head right down between your ears!” We somehow never worked out that our heads WERE between our ears, so she wouldn’t need to go to all that trouble.
I was very proud to be given a duet for the first recital. The winner was to receive a big chocolate Easter Bunny. I was awarded the tail. My partner got the rest of the bunny. Unfair. Unjust! I played my heart out and I finished a whole minute before she did.
I just got a cryptic message that “Fred” is coming at 2 p.m. to take my measurements. I was a little apprehensive until I realized it wasn’t my personal measurements but to assess damage done by a teeny tiny leak under the sink that’s going to cause all of the flooring in three rooms to be replaced. Same day, my condo board picked the one sunny day all week to ban picnicking, forcing picnickers to flee, clutching blankets and hot sauce. Scary to think we’ll be looking back at these memories with nostalgia one day
Another train derailment in the news today crowded with memories. My Dad worked for the railroad between 1930 and 1980. He was what poet Carl Sandberg called a shovelman who kept the tracks so smooth that the jonquils didn’t tremble in their vases in the dining car.
My Dad built box cars and kept the tracks smooth — out in the weather dawn to dark, rain, wind and snow. I remember him coming home dirty and tired. He hated the railroad, but he took pride in what he did and never missed a day’s work.
He taught me to never give up. Never give up. Always find a way. So if you see a chocolate bunny that no one is using, grab it for me. Not too hard. It will melt.
Where to find Dorothy in April
Monday, April 3: 9 a.m. Coffee, Chat and Change the World podcast, followed at 11 a.m. with The Book Doctors podcast. Tune in at Dorothy’s Swimming Upstream podcast website, https://swimmingupstreamradioshow.com.
For more information or registration, contact Dorothy by phone at 800-548-9264 or Dorothy@swimmingupstreamradioshow.com
