by Victoria Taylor

Created on: February 22, 2009

As you wipe the sleep from your eyes and blink at the glaring sunlight streaming through the window reality hits: it's Easter! For children in millions of homes the world over this is one of the best days of the year.

In our youth, my sister and I would roll from bed on Easter morning hot on the heels of our four brothers galloping down the hall like a small herd of horses. Mom always hid our baskets with care well after we'd fallen asleep the night before. Her carefully clipped squares of paper with clever, rhyming "hints" led each of us a merry chase to our Easter basket's hiding place. Each basket contained a special gift for the owner. This was how I received my first pair of stockings, marking my entre to the world of womanhood.

A few weeks before Easter our family would journey "to town" to shop for our special holiday clothes. This was the only time we could depend on receiving a complete head-to-toe outfit: hat, gloves, dress and shoes for the girls, shirt, slacks and shoes for the boys. Every kid in our parish proudly modeled bright spring outfits and quietly suffered the pinch of new shoes while kneeling, sitting and standing our way through choreographed religious observances.

Returning home, we'd change into play clothes and head outside to hunt eggs that had been carefully dyed the afternoon before. Our home and backyard quickly filled with dozens of aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents proffering pot-luck dishes that bespoke our rich heritage: French, German, Scottish and Native American. It wasn't long before the perfume of roasted ham, grilled lamb, German Potato Salad, boiled beans, cornbread and other delectable dishes wafted from the kitchen.

As the adults visited, we kids would squeeze through a jungle of sharp knees and pointy elbows to sneak handfuls of pickles, deviled eggs and other goodies from the table. Olives firmly capping each finger, I would entertain the crowd with magic tricks, rewarding myself with a ripe black olive after each successful performance.

In later years, mom presented each of us with our childhood Easter basket, now overflowing with treasured mementos. She'd kept these tucked away, just waiting for the day when she would honor our unique bond. I still have that basket and trot it out Easter, brimming with malted milk robin's eggs, jellybeans and other goodies just as mom had done for me nearly fifty years ago.

These days our family observes a host of Easter celebrations: Western Christian, Eastern Orthodox and Pagan

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