Teen Perspective: An Easter Tradition
By Max Hovey, a Walking the Walk participant from St. Mary’s Church in Ardmore
 Sunday, the most holy day of rest, is for me, a usual “lay-in until church service at 10:30,” but not this Sunday. On Easter Sunday, the promise of good food and familial companionship drags me from my bed bright and early, despite my seventeen years of age.
It has long been the tradition in my household that on Easter Sunday, there is the annual early morning Easter egg hunt. My two brothers (ages eleven and fifteen) and I roll eagerly out of bed bright and early, often with far more enthusiasm than we exhibit at the early hours of the morning, and run to our parent’s bedroom, to not so subtly wake them up and get the blood flowing.
“While all of the marketable chocolate in the world is wonderful, this is the only time of year when we truly get together to eat, feast, and my favorite tradition - dousing the plum pudding in rum and lighting it on fire. And while the religious aspects of this holiday are perhaps lost on my younger brothers, I hope that with my age I can now appreciate the significance, along with the far more knowledgeable group part of my family – my parents and Aunt.”
Now, when I say “Easter Egg hunt,” this is not your usual affair that some families uphold, with eggs hidden away in the garden and lawn outside.
As we originally lived in an apartment, we have always held an Easter Egg hunt in the Living Room of our current residence. And it is here, for seven or eight furious minutes, my brothers and I search. Frantically searching, we pick apart the sofa cushions, look behind the computer monitor, under furniture, behind and between books, in shelving units, in boxes of tissues, and on one rather memorable occasion, on my middle brother’s dirty soccer cleats. In our family, we have a far more unique tradition, which is the sorting of candy.
While this might sound mundane, for us, a family with varying sets of allergies, some of which include chocolate, dairy, gelatin and most fruits, this sorting has evolved into a central focus of our tradition.
After all, what fun is there in an Easter Egg hunt if all you get is some brightly flavored things to only look at? At this point we are no doubt late for church, and off we must run. A quick service and my family, in all of our Sunday finest, rushes home, both so that my Mom and I (my Dad doesn’t cook) can prepare our Easter dinner, and so that my Dad can go pick-up our Aunt Sheila, the closest relative, who regularly spends holidays with us.
One should understand that I use the term “dinner,” rather loosely, as we eat roughly around two to three. While I never understood why, my Mother finally illuminated the reasons several years back, as we usually eat dinner around six to seven o’clock. According to her, that is when British families typically have their Easter dinner, and this also accounts for the type of food we eat: a roasted ham, Yorkshire pudding, sweet potatoes, green beans, gravy, and plum pudding for desert. While all of the marketable chocolate in the world is wonderful, this is the only time of year when we truly get together to eat, feast, and my favorite tradition - dousing the plum pudding in rum and lighting it on fire. And while the religious aspects of this holiday are perhaps lost on my younger brothers, I hope that with my age I can now appreciate the significance, along with the far more knowledgeable group part of my family – my parents and Aunt.
I think, as my Mom enters the dining room, holding the plum pudding aloft, attempting to light it with one hand, perhaps the true beauty of this holiday is the simple experience it creates, the basic need to reaffirm familial ties, and to perhaps share a laugh or two and craft a good memory. Just as my mom succeeds in lighting the dessert, and failing to maintain the platter’s balance, she has been know to bestow a flaming mess upon the floor.
At least we always have candy for dessert…
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