I don’t know about you, but Easter was weird for me, for the second year in a row (and that we’re numbering weird Easters now is also, you know, weird. Unsettling. Turns out that I posted last Easter Monday as well, so two consecutive Easter-Monday-during-pandemic posts). . . Coming out of March, which is the month of my mother’s birthday and also the month on whose very last day she died eight years ago — the year Easter fell on March 31st. . .
And of course Easter is thick with family memories stretching in overlapping layers back to the late ’50s. All the Alleluia hymns; 9:00 a.m. Mass before the Easter Bunny, of course (fasting before Communion, obviously); white shoe polish squeezed from the Kiwi bottle and the black greasy stuff pulled from its tin by a cloth and rubbed into worn leather, Mary Janes and Oxfords buffed to their best shine; new dresses, Easter coats, flower-studded hats all ’round (although some years, some of my younger siblings might just have got a new pair of bright white socks and landed a coveted dress as hand-me-down). After Mass, a Big English breakfast, my dad’s specialty, more welcome than ever after Lent’s sacrifices. And then hunting for the chocolate and the jelly beans, of course . . .
Scrabbling under bushes or behind chairs (depending on the weather) after the glint of a gold wrapper or the promise of a purple oval, I was unwittingly laying down a template for all my children’s Easter Egg Hunts, once, even, for a granddaughter’s (the same morning my mother died) . . . t
My youngest siblings were still in elementary school when my parents became grandparents, and except for the years they were travelling in the Spring, I don’t think the Easter Bunny ever stopped leaving candies in my mother’s magnificent garden (“Ken, don’t hide those there. See where I’ve marked the little seedlings?! I don’t want those trampled!”) . . . and my dad especially relished the chaotic magic of those mornings with 10 or 12 of his grandchildren romping and hooting and filling their baskets across the front lawn of an otherwise sedate neighbourhood. Then he’d make pancakes for everyone, and sometimes the kids would still have appetite enough to eat a few. . .
Sadly, my four rarely experienced those hunts because we lived too far away. But they regularly brought their own Littles to the crazy and wonderful Easter brunches my sister’s hosted for years, gathering our huge clan in her beautiful heritage home where we once had seven under-eights thrilling to the abundance of sugar and chocolate two generations after my siblings and I were equally thrilled by considerably less. . .
So. All those memories, as I said, and then yesterday, for the second year in a row we couldn’t have anyone in nor could we be in anyone else’s home. No Easter brunches for us.
But. . . we did manage a hike on a forested hillside (7 kilometres, the equivalent of 26 floors climbed, my iPhone tells me) with an Eight and a Six and their parents and their dog, and that was a tradition I could enjoy repeating. The Six very generously and quite spontaneously (I wasn’t hinting, honest!) offered me a Cadbury mini egg (I did not refuse; that would have been insulting, no?). . . and later his sister followed suit, and they also gave us two extravagantly dyed hard-boiled eggs (I didn’t know food colouring came in Neon) in custom-designed-just-for-us wrapping. Perfect fuel for a long hilly hike. Photos here if you need some calming Pacific Northwest forest vibes in your day.
Funny what happens here on this “page,” this blank screen. I came here this morning quite sure I couldn’t write anything, given a maelstrom of confused emotions I was surfing. Wanting to keep to my (already reduced) commitment to posting weekly, on Mondays lately, I thought I’d just share a couple of pages from my sketchbook. And instead, these words manifested.
Since they did, I’ve decided I’ll be back tomorrow or Wednesday to post those sketches. Hope you might stop by again to check those out and meanwhile, leave me a comment about your Easter, perhaps about your family traditions and how the pandemic has changed those, how you’ve adapted (or not). Or Holi or Passover. . . Ramadan, upcoming, will probably be different from usual as well. As was Chinese New Year a few weeks ago. . . and other cultural feasts and holy days and traditions I’m unfamiliar with. But you can tell me, please. . .
xo,
f
this was for me as well a very strange Easter. And your post brought back so many memories of holidays past filled with family. this year I was at least lucky to see my two adult kids and my grandkids if briefly. I remember the new dresses and shoes. the fasting before communion and the temptation of the candy filled Easter baskets. the year I was gifted 12 chicks which all survived to adult chickenhood that my mother made me find find another home for. I could keep one, who I called Lucky and lived in our backyard, who pecked any everyone's ankles and awakened us with his cock- a- doddle do. As I got older I loved helping my Italian grandmother make the Easter Pies, the pizza rusticca and the sweet pies too. I did go to actual Mass this year, the first time in over a year. Happy Easter, Darby
Your recollections resemble mine with the new dresses (sometimes with a duster coat), white shoes and flower hat. My younger sister, who was a tomboy, did not appreciate the hand-me-downs. Easter egg hunts and family meals, Easter lilies for the grandmothers…
My mum has just had surgery and is failing as we all will.I stayed with her for 5 nights last week and I noticed that all exertion is difficult for her. My daughter stayed in the hallway (masked) while I delivered a treat for Easter dinner. I am amazed at how little Mum eats.
I hope that our pandemic ends soon. My mum does not visit my youngest brother who is ill with neurological
disorders which have not yet been clearly diagnosed. I'm afraid one or the other will pass without the resumption of normal family interactions.
As we start our second year, I do look to the birds and the flowers for my daily fix of wonder. An errant nasturtium has germinated in a window box and I secured my own key to the communal greenhouse. I'm going to start seeds for the parking lot gardens.
I'm glad that you share so many of your projects on Instagram. Your little mice are so cute. I'm sure that the Not-So-Littles must love them.
I loved your Easter reminiscences, Frances. Those mice. That little one posted on IG today is…. sweetness personified.
And Madame-la-bas… I am very sorry about your mum and brother. So sad. I, too, remember duster coats. My Mum wore duster coats in the sixties, with belled, bracelet-length sleeves. I always though they looked terribly elegant.
I admit to hitting an emotional wall last evening. Two Easters without family (not to mention a Thanksgiving, a Christmas, and a whole bunch of birthdays in between) left me feeling sad and very frustrated. I'll be having my first Covid vaccine this week though, so that does offer a ray of hope.
Happy Easter,dear Frances,to you and Paul
<3
Dottoressa
Easter was a little bizarre this year . We stayed home quietly but there was entertainment over the hedge . We were allowed a group of six outdoors & our young neighbours invited her parents for their first meet up since last November . It was a Christmas Easter party . There was Easter bunting , a blow up Xmas tree , bunny ears on Santa hats , Xmas jumpers , hidden eggs for the children & the odd Xmas song . All we got were chocolate bunnies passed over but it was very entertaining . I don’t think it will be a new tradition but you never know . Your mouse is just gorgeous.
Wendy in York
I was transported to the charm of your childhood and the large family gatherings, unknown in my life; my much older brother and sister (15 and 13 years), were either away at school or on the other side of the country. Easter was the very welcome culmination of Holy Week, crowned by the glorious Altar Society bake sale after Easter Sunday mass. New hats, yes, but not spring coats up there in the far north of Michigan, still too cold. (When I was age 10, my mother took my sister and me to NYC for Easter, and I was utterly thrilled by see the Easter Parade, women n their vibrant spring ensembles.)
The nuns thought the Easter Bunny a diversion from the important religious focus of Lent and Easter, so Easter lacked the pleasure of Christmas. I made coloured eggs and had lots of candy but was never enjoined to believe in The Rabbit. My parents took Lent very seriously and to this day I refuse to give up anything, a reflexive rebellion.
Fascinating story F! Easter for me has always been fraught. I am firmly against organized religion (of course, all people must believe in and act in accordance with what works for them but I personally associate it with oppression; to me all religion reads like a cult. Of course, I do realize that for many, Easter is as secular as Christmas has become). FWIW, I grew up in a very Catholic household and never had an experience of the church that was untoward. It's also the occasion that always falls near my mother's and sister's birthdays – and I was always responsible for doing so many of the chores associated with the Easter meal (given that it was their special time of year). That totally killed it for me as a fun eating experience. 🙂 In adulthood, unless I've found myself invited to my bestie's or in the US during that time of year, it is not celebrated here. But I have to say, yesterday I was grateful to have no tie to this holiday. Holidays are social creatures and these are solitary times.
Don't forget using Vaseline to shine those black patent shoes! Very similar memories of duster coats, new dresses, hats, and white gloves. Mass early and then home for a big breakfast made by my Dad. Easter took place in several countries for us over the year…back then the mass was in Latin and we could go to church anywhere and still follow along, except for the sermon, but who listened to the sermon 🙂 and anyway, it was always brief. I remember getting my first pair of stockings (pre-pantyhose days) to wear the Easter I was thirteen–no more white ankle socks! Of course, I had to wear a garter belt that kept twisting around sideways, but still…
Darby: Many happy memories there — the chickens! a rooster you got to keep in your back yard! And in cucina con la nonna !
Mme: I wish the best for your mother and brother and that you may have the comfort of knowing they're being well cared for. So tough during this time, I know. . . I love this phrase of yours, that you "look to the birds and flowers for [your] daily fix of wonder." Your community is lucky to have you caring for that parking lot garden.
Sue: Thanks! Those little creatures have been oddly centering for me. . . but they're soon going to be all gone and I'll have to make some to keep 😉
After reading your post I sat for a few moments letting memories of Easters past wash over me. Very similar with a Protestant slant in place of a Catholic one. New dresses made by my mother, black patent shoes and white socks, white gloves, and little hats. We often traveled from the Interior to the Fraser Valley for family get togethers and Easter was usually celebrated at my grandparents' home. Church was cold and damp-feeling in our lighter clothes, but the music glorious.
This year was the second weird one, in spite of being able to meet outdoors. I cooked a big dinner, and we all agreed that lovely though it was, it's too much work (everyone contributed) and if we have to meet outside, we'll grill burgers or order pizza. The sun shone, but the breeze was a little nippy until later in the afternoon.
The grands had an egg hunt in our yard, and I charged Tim and a son-in-law to hide everything. Your mother's caution to your father could have come from my own lips!
It was lovely to be together, but there was the tension of maintaining social distance and the feeling that all was not as it should be.
Elaine: It's hard, isn't it? I'm looking forward to that first shot — ours will be another couple of weeks, I think. Variants are gaining ground here, though, and I think I'd get more peace of mind if my kids got vaccinated. . .
Dottoress: Thank you, and Sretan Uskrs to you and your Mama
Wendy: Well, that's definitely a new one! I can't see it catching on, but you never know. . . Did you enjoy your chocolate bunnies? (and thanks re the little knit critters; I'm having fun making them and their recipients have been very pleased to meet them.)
Duchesse: Ah yes, you capture so well that mixture that seems to inhere in Catholicism (perhaps any religion): those odd aspects of the culture that stick to memory with positive connotations and those that turn us forcefully away. I'm picturing that bake sale, the icing featuring large in my child's eyes. . .
That NYC Easter parade — I can imagine that being formative in your awareness and development of style.
Kristn: I understand that perspective and haven't been a church-goer myself for many years. But I might still love a Good Friday Mass for some of the cultural and spiritual resonances despite absolute awareness of the problems of power and sexism and corruption and colonialism. Something about my mom and dad's and both sets of grandparents' deep and thoughtful faith. Very of the time, and impossible for me to hew to now, and sometimes that feels a big loss as well as liberation.
Mary: We didn't use Vaseline for shoe-shining that I know of, but it certainly had many household uses. As for the "nylons"– what we called stockings pre-panty-hose — I'll have to relate my story about finally getting to wear those, what a marker it was, how strict my mother was about making me wait — years after the rest of my classmates. How important that once seemed, how amusing now!
Lorrie: As much as I've stepped away from religion, I miss that carving off of space and time from secular life (or everyday life governed by capitalist commercialism)– and being part of a community that saw a shared value in that. You seem to be able to maintain that within your family and you do much of it 'round the table, admirably. Trickier when everything has to be carted outside, though, I agree! We've just been doing take-out when we manage to get together.
It sounds as though Easter is a rich golden vein for you, and the empty page a silver shovel. xoxox.
Oh my God! Thank you, yes….❤️
Yes LPC, yes, yes, yes. In describing Frances' experience, you have beautifully summed up mine,too. So, so hoping not to spend a third Easter in lockdown.
A. in London