an easter egg

It took an assortment of 35 used and stained coffee cups and mugs…2 dozen dozen of eggs… 25 containers of PAAS dye…a serious collection of old rags…24 tablespoons…an old, old shcmutie on the dining room table…both extra leafs for the dining room table… lots of home made cupcakes…at least fourteen neighborhood kids…a few parents of those neighborhood kids…my Grandma Braff tsk tsking at the mess…assorted bottles of Duquesne Brewery Pop with straws…a list of those neighborhood kids who were too sick to join us…and the Buncher household in the 1950’s celebrated the non religious American cultural version of Easter.

If we were lucky the snow had already melted and we could open our dining room window, the only window in the house that had an air conditioner (rule #54 in the Buncher home never put the air conditioner in the window before Memorial Day), Aunt Meercy brought some of her favorite 78’s with Bing, Ella, Rosemary Clooney, Perry Como singing festive Easter songs (rule #36 we were Jewish so no mention of the religious aspect of the holiday), the Buncher kids had to make at least1 dozen eggs for relatives unable or unwilling to attend (rule #89 dying of eggs was not just a selfish act), the big kids had to let the little kids have first crack at not only the dye but the cut out ornaments glued to the eggs( Denniston Avenue for some weird happening had families with kids at least 2.5 to 3 years older then their younger siblings thus the distinction between big kids and little kids) Aunt Ruthie (not a real Aunt but in the 50’s on Denniston the good neighbors were considered like family thus the title Aunt and Uncle) at the ready to run ‘Up the Street’(the shopping district of Squirrel Hill, of my neighborhood) in her car (she was the only Mom at the time that knew how to drive) should we run out of something, anything and no fighting for the 2 hours it took to dye the millions of eggs. 

Today is Easter Sunday and I read with great interest the meaning and memories this holiday has for many of my friends. At the Buncher house in the 1950’s we were fortunate enough to learn a little about occasions that not necessarily had a religious impact or even a moral impact on our Jewish lives. Be it St Patricks Day when my mother called herself Rena O’Buncher baking her best cookies and cake in green dye or Christmas when my mother and father graciously agreed to attend Irish, Italian, Polish, Hungarian Christmas dinners preparing all of us for the customs of those celebrations, or Easter we were ready to participate and enjoy. Some of the beauty in being human is to have had the opportunities to make magic and recall just how special that magic was. To reminisce, remember and recall makes growing older so much better. Happy Easter!