The Waiting Room

When I was a little girl, Easter Sunday meant dinner at my great grandmother's home. My great-grandmother lived in the lower apartment of a building she owned. It was a small two bedroom place but somehow, 30 people, including nine children seemed to fit quite comfortably. Relatives from all over would stop by to visit and of course, eat all the wonderful food that family members prepared.

In those days (we are talking the the late 1970's), it was usually quite springlike and warm on Easter. (Not like the snow I am experiencing as I write this). My brother, cousins and I would play outside in the street in front of the build. Since the building was located in an alley, there was not much concern. Back in those days, you were lucky to find a gas station open on Easter Sunday. We would play all kinds of games from Red Rover to Mother May I? We weren't always so good, though, Across the alley was a loading dock for a small department store. We would talk turns ringing the doorbell that would notify someone in the store that there was a delivery and then yell "Run, somebody is coming.", when we knew good and well that no one was. Somehow, that little stunt entertained us for hours.

Sometime during the afternoon, all the moms would disappear. They drove back to my grandmother's house to hide Easter eggs. My grandmother had a huge yard with lots of trees and shrubs that were great hiding places. Then, everyone would come over to my grandmother house for the Easter egg hunt. We would look for those plastic eggs that you could put things inside. We would find candy or silver dollars as our prize. My brother was notorious for stealing other people's eggs! Then everyone would sit back and relax and reminisce until it was time to go home.

Sadly, that tradition died in the mid 1980's, mostly as a result of the deaths of the grandmothers and my father. Attempts to continue the traditions just did not work. People just seemed to go their separate ways and start their own traditions. Now, most of the older relatives have passed on. My cousins are spread out across the country with families of thier own. The old apartment building and my grandmother's house were both sold and have new occupants.

Traditions are a wonderful thing. They make for great memories. But the real challenge is to keep the tradition moving to the next generation.

Happy Easter to everyone!