EASTER

Many years ago, when the Italian American influence was at its peak in the universe of my childhood, Easter had a special meaning. It was a day that the Italians celebrate more than Christmas; ‘Pasqua’ the day of the risen Christ was the holiest of holy days.

Grandma Frances was the center of the universe, and all her children and grandchildren gathered at her house to celebrate. They came from Patchogue and Coney Island, and of course from Brooklyn, to gather around in a large kitchen where two tables were placed head to head and filled with the sounds of Italian, pasta and of course: cannoli.

In those wonderful golden days things were a little different. Who came with left over palm for grandma from the Sunday before? Who had a box of Italian pastries in their hand and who wasn’t dressed with either a shirt and tie or a dress for the occasion? I guess we respected each other, showing that the occasion and the people were note worthy and honored: we were family.

At Grandma’s house was a long hallway that ran alongside the length of the apartment on the bottom floor. In this hallway all her grandchildren would hangout, sit and talk or play, and listen to the raised voices and echoes of Italian words and laughter, the aroma of the pasta sauce and sweets from the bakery as they waffled through the hallway, an enticing aromatic calling, reminding us that the best was yet to come.

I remember the weather being warm, sunny and the glow of spring hung in the air as we approached grandma’s house, in the shadow of the overhead el that ended just a short distance from her front door. There once was an ice-cream parlor that sat next door to Grandma, and going in there and ordering a cone.

But most of all, I remember my cousins, as we gathered for the first time in a long time, it was a treat and always fun to see my cousin Victor who made me laugh always, his sister Marie whom he teased, a beautiful girl. There was Ann Louise and Angelo, two good kids and that always seemed to fill the room with sunshine, and there was my cousin Joe and his sister Fran, to round out the conclave of cousins. The last two, Joe and Fran were almost brother and sister since their father: my dad’s brother married my mother’s sister!

And so I will pack away those memories, put them in a mental safe and open them when the day seems long or the trip too tiring. 

Today I will gather with my older sister (much older) Tessie at Mom’s house, perhaps for one more Easter at Mom’s home while she is still here with us. I know she can’t really participate, but she is excited that we are doing this, and so we will.

HAVE A HAPPY EASTER!