Today is April 17th, 2022, Easter Sunday and the 3rd day of Passover. Woo Hoo! It's a two-fer holiday.
It's nice to see Christians and Jews celebrating at the same time, even if they are different holidays. After all, if there were no Passover, there'd be no Easter. But let's not get religious or philosophical.
Instead, let's talk about the Easter Bunny. I've no idea where it started or why, but I love chocolate so I'm all for it.
As a young person, probably around 7 years old, my sister and I heard the Easter Bunny coming in the back door of our childhood home on Easter Sunday morning. Because our house was built shortly after 1900, there were "heat registers" in the second story floor. Well, there was one in the bathroom that afforded us a partial view of the kitchen and a really good listening post. When we remodeled the bathroom, it was removed much to our dismay. However, the remodeling was years away at this point. So, it was shortly after dawn and our parents were asleep when my sister came and woke me up.
We were crouched down by the register and heard the Easter Bunny at the back door. O MY Goodness! We hurriedly scampered back to our respective bedrooms and cowered under the covers, pretending to be asleep. But we heard the crinkling of the cellophane that wrapped the baskets, we knew it was the Easter Bunny!
My sister got a bunny for Easter several years earlier. His official name was Snow White, because he was... white. But we called him Bun, BunBun. There was a lack of understanding what Bun needed and sadly, he spent a winter in the basement because we didn't know that with a proper house he'd have been fine outside. Since we were so young, we weren't allowed downstairs to take care of him, spend time with him, etc. So, when fall rolled around again, Mother and Dad decided that Bun didn't deserve a winter in a dark basement. It was decided to donate him to Sherwood Forest, a small, weird little zoo in a park in Hartford. Somehow, Bun morphed into our Easter Bunny. While we did go and "visit" him a few times, always picking out the largest, fattest white bunny rabbit as our "BunBun," I've always doubted we could really tell which white rabbit had been ours.
I remember going out to feed him with my sister. She was in charge but quite often Bun was quick and escaped his pretty large cage. More than one early morning presented the neighbors with the view of my mother running through yards in her robe and slippers calling "here Bun, here BunBun." She either always caught him or he came back on his own. I was only 4, so I don't really remember which it was. Probably both!
So, all that being said was it Bun at the back door that Easter morning? Did our white rabbit bring us those huge baskets full of chocolate and jelly beans and candy?
Oh, hell no.
But it was a great fantasy.
The reality was quite mundane but equally wonderful. Our Great Aunt, Louise Wilson created the baskets every year. She lived in West Hartford, a full half-hour away with my Grammy and our Uncle Bill. She got up before dawn and drove all the way over to our house in Manchester, snuck in the back door (Mother and Dad snuck her a key during Holy Week) and left the baskets on the kitchen table. Then she drove back to West Hartford...
Not only did she put the baskets together and drive them over, but she didn't get to see our faces as we discovered them Easter Morning. It was years before we figured out how those baskets appeared and who was in fact responsible for them. Just amazing.
Easter brings me the greatest joy, and sweetest sorrow. No matter the calendrical date, it remains always the day my Mother died. I was there with her, and I know she is always with me, but it still hurts.
May your Easter or Passover be a joyous one!
