As a person who had an entirely secular upbringing, I remember Easter mainly in terms of the fun I had with my mom coloring and decorating eggs. The smell of the vinegar based egg dye is a very strong memory; we also cut lots of tiny little shapes out of colored felt – eyes, clothing, moustaches – to glue on the eggs, and if I had a really good idea, Mom would give me not a hardboiled egg, but one where she had punctured the top and bottom with a pin and blown the yolk out, so it was just the shell and wouldn’t spoil. There was also the additional fun my brother and I had rummaging through the living room on easter Sunday looking for all the hidden jellybeans and chocolate. As a little girl, I loved these:
Although now I find them a bit gross. The milk chocolate has that slightly gritty, over-sweetened quality of cheap chocolate, and whatever that goo is in the middle . . .perhaps it is best not to ask too many questions about the goo. But sometimes I will buy one and enjoy it for old-time’s sake, as I did yesterday evening. (They are best, I have learned, with a shot of high-quality scotch. This, of course, is something I did not discover as a child.)
I guess I should listen to Bach’s easter oratorio or something similar today, but I think I’m going to break with tradition and go with some Steve Reich instead.