Bunnies and Chicks
Nope, I'm not talking about Playboy or girls at the beach, or similar stuff. Unless you're in a cave, you know today is Easter, the day when hundreds of thousands drag themselves to church for the only time this year, in a brand-new outfit they've put on their soon-to-be-maxed-out credit card. It's also time for the last sugar rush of the school year, at least until Halloween.
When I was young, Easter meant the Easter Bunny leaving a basket full of chocolates, marshmallow peeps, a toy or two, and plenty of jelly beans. There'd be an egg hunt in our backyard, and a breakfast of hot cross buns, hardboiled dyed eggs, and juice. If we were visiting my grandparents, I'd have a similar breakfast, with an egg hunt in and around the house, and afterwards we'd go to my great-grandmother's for her Easter party. She started having the parties when my mother was little, and there'd be tons of kids there, various relatives, family friends, and friends of my great-grandparents. It was pretty much the same when I was a kid. First would be arrival time-- that was somewhat boring, as it would be mostly grownups. There were fewer children when I was little, because most of the original children had by then grown up, and many of them hadn't had children yet, so it was a little boring for me, as well as being deaf. After a while, once all (or most!) of the kids were there, we'd have a basket or an egg carton ready, and we'd line up at the back door in the kitchen. The signal would be given, and we'd go out into the garden behind the house. My great-grandmother lived (and still lives!) in an old house on a hillside close to downtown, just north of Angelino Heights and Carroll Street (where the beautiful old Victorians are today). The house itself isn't that large, but the lot is a good size, and has a huge terraced garden in back, with a greenhouse, an aboveground swimming pool, and a smaller cottage in back. The cottage is supposedly the oldest house on the hill, and allegedly housed a shepard who took care of a flock of sheep belonging to the nuns who lived at the bottom of the hill at Sisters Hospital, which was once on Sunset and Beaudry.
Anyway, I digress-- the signal would be given, the door flung open, and we'd rush out and hunt for eggs. There were three kinds of eggs to find: confetti eggs, which would be empty dyed shells filled with confetti, with the top covered by tissue paper; painted eggs, which were rarer and very beautiful; and the "golden egg." My great-grandmother was an artist, and she would take these eggs, poke teensy holes in the end, drain the eggs, then after they had dried, paint/draw Easter and springtime scenes onto the eggs. I don't have an egg here with me, or a picture of one, but I'll try to post one at some point. They were really lovely-- with elves, fairies, bunnies, and all kinds of creatures on them. The Golden Egg would be a golden-foil egg, and considered the "prize" of the hunt. I don't believe I ever found it, but my mother did once when she was a child, and one of my sisters did one year. Some adults would be watching the hunt, others would be inside visiting or getting soused, and still others who had children would be accompanying them or monitoring them during the hunt.
After the egg hunt was over, we'd all troop back in, and we'd eat. There were two long tables set up with all kinds of food: a ham, platters upon platters of cheeses and meats, two or three different kinds of bread, two or three different kinds of salads, crudites, deviled eggs, baked goods, hot cross buns, punch or soda for the kids and plenty of wine and other booze for the grownups. Most of the non-relatives were interesting, although I didn't realize just *how* interesting until I was older. It was a mixed crowd of artists, long-time industry types, and denizens of old Los Angeles.
The last party was sometime in the late 80s, after I was well beyond the egg hunt stage. By then, most of the guests were very old, very dead, or otherwise occupied. A few of the original children were joining their Boomer counterparts in producing the next generation, and started bringing their own kids, but it had mostly dwindled to family and very close family friends at the last party I attended.
I've spent the last several Easters at different places, depending on where I was living at the moment. Since we moved to L.A., I've gone over to my grandparents for Easter, where the celebration is a mini-version of the parties at my great-grandmother's, and the guest list is just family. We headed over today, and it was nice to see family members again, most of whom I haven't seen since Christmas. Most of my cousins are quite young, with four of them at grade school age or younger, so there's an egg hunt again. Of course I don't participate, but I don't have too much to complain about. The Easter Bunny still leaves a basket for me, and it had a chocolate rabbit, some chocolate eggs, marshmallow peeps (you can't have Easter without that!), jelly beans, and a toy or two. Can't beat that.
When I was young, Easter meant the Easter Bunny leaving a basket full of chocolates, marshmallow peeps, a toy or two, and plenty of jelly beans. There'd be an egg hunt in our backyard, and a breakfast of hot cross buns, hardboiled dyed eggs, and juice. If we were visiting my grandparents, I'd have a similar breakfast, with an egg hunt in and around the house, and afterwards we'd go to my great-grandmother's for her Easter party. She started having the parties when my mother was little, and there'd be tons of kids there, various relatives, family friends, and friends of my great-grandparents. It was pretty much the same when I was a kid. First would be arrival time-- that was somewhat boring, as it would be mostly grownups. There were fewer children when I was little, because most of the original children had by then grown up, and many of them hadn't had children yet, so it was a little boring for me, as well as being deaf. After a while, once all (or most!) of the kids were there, we'd have a basket or an egg carton ready, and we'd line up at the back door in the kitchen. The signal would be given, and we'd go out into the garden behind the house. My great-grandmother lived (and still lives!) in an old house on a hillside close to downtown, just north of Angelino Heights and Carroll Street (where the beautiful old Victorians are today). The house itself isn't that large, but the lot is a good size, and has a huge terraced garden in back, with a greenhouse, an aboveground swimming pool, and a smaller cottage in back. The cottage is supposedly the oldest house on the hill, and allegedly housed a shepard who took care of a flock of sheep belonging to the nuns who lived at the bottom of the hill at Sisters Hospital, which was once on Sunset and Beaudry.
Anyway, I digress-- the signal would be given, the door flung open, and we'd rush out and hunt for eggs. There were three kinds of eggs to find: confetti eggs, which would be empty dyed shells filled with confetti, with the top covered by tissue paper; painted eggs, which were rarer and very beautiful; and the "golden egg." My great-grandmother was an artist, and she would take these eggs, poke teensy holes in the end, drain the eggs, then after they had dried, paint/draw Easter and springtime scenes onto the eggs. I don't have an egg here with me, or a picture of one, but I'll try to post one at some point. They were really lovely-- with elves, fairies, bunnies, and all kinds of creatures on them. The Golden Egg would be a golden-foil egg, and considered the "prize" of the hunt. I don't believe I ever found it, but my mother did once when she was a child, and one of my sisters did one year. Some adults would be watching the hunt, others would be inside visiting or getting soused, and still others who had children would be accompanying them or monitoring them during the hunt.
After the egg hunt was over, we'd all troop back in, and we'd eat. There were two long tables set up with all kinds of food: a ham, platters upon platters of cheeses and meats, two or three different kinds of bread, two or three different kinds of salads, crudites, deviled eggs, baked goods, hot cross buns, punch or soda for the kids and plenty of wine and other booze for the grownups. Most of the non-relatives were interesting, although I didn't realize just *how* interesting until I was older. It was a mixed crowd of artists, long-time industry types, and denizens of old Los Angeles.
The last party was sometime in the late 80s, after I was well beyond the egg hunt stage. By then, most of the guests were very old, very dead, or otherwise occupied. A few of the original children were joining their Boomer counterparts in producing the next generation, and started bringing their own kids, but it had mostly dwindled to family and very close family friends at the last party I attended.
I've spent the last several Easters at different places, depending on where I was living at the moment. Since we moved to L.A., I've gone over to my grandparents for Easter, where the celebration is a mini-version of the parties at my great-grandmother's, and the guest list is just family. We headed over today, and it was nice to see family members again, most of whom I haven't seen since Christmas. Most of my cousins are quite young, with four of them at grade school age or younger, so there's an egg hunt again. Of course I don't participate, but I don't have too much to complain about. The Easter Bunny still leaves a basket for me, and it had a chocolate rabbit, some chocolate eggs, marshmallow peeps (you can't have Easter without that!), jelly beans, and a toy or two. Can't beat that.
posted by Mr. Sandman | 11:05 PM
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