Easter Memories

Most of my Easter memories involve my sister (Robin--2 yrs younger) and I when we were small. There was the anticipation of buying a great Easter dress with crisp white cotton gloves. And, equally important.... new shoes to match. They had to match or we'd have to get them dyed which took longer. I remember a favorite pair of pink patent leather shoes with bows that I'd rub together, even during church, just so I could hear them squeak. If we'd whine a little more than usual, we might get a new handbag and a hat with a matching grosgrain ribbon hanging down the back. I even painted my stubby fingernails for the occasion.

Sunday School during Easter was spent making fun things for kids like crosses out of Popsicle sticks and yarn. Or writing John 3:16 in glue, and sprinkling glitter on it on construction paper to proudly display in the Church's main hall. And after church, we had the obligatory egg hunt.

During the Easter season I always wanted a blue or pink, or orange, or green chick. A local grocery store sold baby chicks that were kept in a pen with heat lamps. They had been dyed different colors and we'd all have a favorite one picked out in the hopes we could get one. Kids would gather around them and would beg their parents for a colored chick and finally my neighbors got two of them. The chicks later moved to some "farm" their Dad said. I'm certain dyed chicks would cause a major stink nowadays.

When I think back on Easter as a child the first scene that I see is Robin wearing a light pink silk shantung dress. She had her jet black hair in a pixie haircut with straight-cut banks. She looked so beautiful. And I think of a home video of us on a sunny Easter afternoon, swinging our full Easter baskets and walking up the sidewalk to the house after a day of celebration.

I recently ran across one of those old Easter photos when I cleaned out my grandmother's old pictures. Probably one of the last ones of my sister and I in all our Easter finery. Robin and I were posed in my grandmother's yard and were about 12 and 14 years old. Smart-ass smirks planted firmly across our faces tell you this is the last time you'll get these dresses on two tomboys who'd rather be in blue jeans fielding grounders on a Sunday.

I got a million of 'em. A million plus memories of Robin that will see me through just fine.