Today is Easter. I know this is a religious holiday, but I’m not going into that aspect of it. Instead, I’m sharing another childhood memory. (Get used to it. I’m an old lady, and we do that a lot.)
One thing we got every Easter was a new outfit and shoes. The night before Easter we would put the empty shoe box out on Dad’s workbench in the garage, or someplace like that, and fill it full of that plastic green grass. The next morning we would rush out to discover that the Easter Bunny had left us some goodies in the nest we had made. It was never much, but we could always count on a few things: a chocolate bunny, some jelly beans, marshmallow eggs, and a small toy or two, like a yoyo or maybe a coloring book and crayons. One thing we could almost always count on was a fly back paddle, or at least that’s what we called the thing.
Ah, the fly back paddle – the toy I hated to see in my Easter basket. First, I
have no hand/eye coordination, so I was absolutely awful with that thing. I never managed to actually hit the ball with the paddle. The most I ever hit was air, and maybe a bug that accidentally got in the way. Second, those were never meant to last. The rubber band would break the first day, maybe the second if I was lucky, and that broken rubber band brought about the third reason I hated to see that thing in my basket.
Once the rubber band broke, the paddle became Mom’s. She would put it on top of the refrigerator and threaten us with it. I don’t ever remember actually being spanked with one, but I remember being threatened, and that was usually enough for me. I learned to just leave those paddles and balls alone and in the toy box. It was safer all the way around.
One year we went to an egg hunt over in Ohio somewhere. There were dozens of children and hundreds of eggs. Some of the eggs were special, and the finder received a dyed chick or rabbit, something I’m glad I didn’t win. Others could be traded in for candy. I was happy to find a couple of those, and that’s when I discovered bulls’ eyes, caramel creams. I still love those.
My favorite Easter memories of all, however, are of the family dinners, when we would all get together after church for something special. If it were at my grandmother’s house it was probably barbecue chicken with mashed potatoes, cole slaw, and corn. That’s really the only thing I ever remember my grandmother serving at big dinners.
I think family is the best memory of all, as it should be.
Happy Easter, everyone.
One thing we got every Easter was a new outfit and shoes. The night before Easter we would put the empty shoe box out on Dad’s workbench in the garage, or someplace like that, and fill it full of that plastic green grass. The next morning we would rush out to discover that the Easter Bunny had left us some goodies in the nest we had made. It was never much, but we could always count on a few things: a chocolate bunny, some jelly beans, marshmallow eggs, and a small toy or two, like a yoyo or maybe a coloring book and crayons. One thing we could almost always count on was a fly back paddle, or at least that’s what we called the thing.
Ah, the fly back paddle – the toy I hated to see in my Easter basket. First, I
Once the rubber band broke, the paddle became Mom’s. She would put it on top of the refrigerator and threaten us with it. I don’t ever remember actually being spanked with one, but I remember being threatened, and that was usually enough for me. I learned to just leave those paddles and balls alone and in the toy box. It was safer all the way around.
One year we went to an egg hunt over in Ohio somewhere. There were dozens of children and hundreds of eggs. Some of the eggs were special, and the finder received a dyed chick or rabbit, something I’m glad I didn’t win. Others could be traded in for candy. I was happy to find a couple of those, and that’s when I discovered bulls’ eyes, caramel creams. I still love those.
My favorite Easter memories of all, however, are of the family dinners, when we would all get together after church for something special. If it were at my grandmother’s house it was probably barbecue chicken with mashed potatoes, cole slaw, and corn. That’s really the only thing I ever remember my grandmother serving at big dinners.
I think family is the best memory of all, as it should be.
Happy Easter, everyone.
No comments:
Post a Comment