So, since one of the purposes of this blog is to share family memories, I thought I'd do a post of some of my Canduci Easter memories. Any family members who read this blog are welcome to contribute their own using the "comment" feature! Or, of course, you can e-mail them to me at canduci.family.recipes@gmail.com and I'll give them their very own post.
Easter egg hunts. Oh, the Easter egg hunts. I don't know what it was like for the adults, but for the kids it was pure bloodsport. Greatgrandmom's yard would be full of hidden real boiled eggs in rainbow pastel hues, and after all the grandkids, greatnieces and -nephews, and the like had arrived and been mustered into order, we would be released to go hunt for them. I'm fairly certain that any civilized manners we had been taught at that point were totally undermined by the fierce urge we all shared to FIND ALL THE EGGS. Or at least put enough in our basket to make it difficult to carry. Once plastic eggs came into being, we could also later brag about how many eggs we found with money (whole pennies and dimes at our disposal!!!) or chocolate candies. I'm not going to swear to this, but I might possibly remember pushing and shoving going on. Definitely tears. And that was just the little girls!
After the egg hunt, there would be some version of a Canduci feast, which in my small mind was highlighted by the butter pressed into the shape of a lamb. When we got home, all stuffed unto death with delicious food, I would tear into the yellow-cake-with-chocolate-frosting-and-decorated-with--icing-flowers-egg-shaped-cake-with-my-name-written-in-icing-on-the-top cake that Grandmom would buy for me every year. Sheer heaven. It was like joy on top of delight on top of wonder. ICING. CHOCOLATE. MY NAME IN FROSTING. SEASONALLY-THEMED AND TOTALLY UNECESSARY. We Canduci family children well knew that cake came one time a year: on our birthdays. Okay, or vicariously on other peoples' birthdays. I still find other peoples' birthdays nearly as exciting as my own for this reason. That cake probably taught me more about God's love and grace than any number of tedious color-in-Jonah Sunday school classes.
Easter egg hunts. Oh, the Easter egg hunts. I don't know what it was like for the adults, but for the kids it was pure bloodsport. Greatgrandmom's yard would be full of hidden real boiled eggs in rainbow pastel hues, and after all the grandkids, greatnieces and -nephews, and the like had arrived and been mustered into order, we would be released to go hunt for them. I'm fairly certain that any civilized manners we had been taught at that point were totally undermined by the fierce urge we all shared to FIND ALL THE EGGS. Or at least put enough in our basket to make it difficult to carry. Once plastic eggs came into being, we could also later brag about how many eggs we found with money (whole pennies and dimes at our disposal!!!) or chocolate candies. I'm not going to swear to this, but I might possibly remember pushing and shoving going on. Definitely tears. And that was just the little girls!
After the egg hunt, there would be some version of a Canduci feast, which in my small mind was highlighted by the butter pressed into the shape of a lamb. When we got home, all stuffed unto death with delicious food, I would tear into the yellow-cake-with-chocolate-frosting-and-decorated-with--icing-flowers-egg-shaped-cake-with-my-name-written-in-icing-on-the-top cake that Grandmom would buy for me every year. Sheer heaven. It was like joy on top of delight on top of wonder. ICING. CHOCOLATE. MY NAME IN FROSTING. SEASONALLY-THEMED AND TOTALLY UNECESSARY. We Canduci family children well knew that cake came one time a year: on our birthdays. Okay, or vicariously on other peoples' birthdays. I still find other peoples' birthdays nearly as exciting as my own for this reason. That cake probably taught me more about God's love and grace than any number of tedious color-in-Jonah Sunday school classes.
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