OPINION: Mom's Easter countdown
Looking like they just stepped out of a garden themselves in their matching Easter dresses and bonnets, twins Riley, left, and Molly Oberting, right, continue an Easter family tradition of attending Mass and then visiting the Planting Fields Arbortetum to have their photograph taken by their parents. (April 8, 2007) Credit: Newsday File, 2007 / Julia Gaines
Kathy Levine lives in Long Beach.
Most Catholics prepare for Easter by spending 40 days of Lent in prayer and sacrifice. Back in the '50s, my mother needed all that time to perform her most sacred Lenten ritual: getting five daughters into an array of pastel outfits by 9 o'clock Easter morning.
Her mission began in the best establishments - Klein's or Korvette's - and we arrived before the doors were open. Once inside, my mother tore through the store so fast that if I grabbed her hand, I could sail through the aisles an inch above the ground.
Any outfit was an option, as long as it was purple or pink and on sale. She steered us toward dresses with ruffles, puffy sleeves and satin sashes.
"Try it on," she'd urge with a push toward the dressing room, "and smile when you look in the mirror."
Dresses were just the beginning. Our search took us on the trail to shiny Mary Janes, little white gloves and wide-brimmed straw hats with satin bands.
At the end of the spree, we headed home for the next crucial phase: alterations. With her mouth full of straight pins, my mother would line up my sisters while she marked our hems and began a sewing task that continued through Good Friday.
On Saturday, we awakened to the smell of vinegar, a sure sign we'd be dyeing eggs. The more garishly colored, the better. Special effects like writing your name on the egg with a wax crayon earned extra points. Although we never kept count of the eggs that we hid under the furniture, we could follow our noses to the missing ones weeks later.
Sunday morning dawned on a cluster of colorful baskets filled with chocolate bunnies, marshmallow chicks and a rainbow of jelly beans on a bed of plastic grass. As we overdosed on sweets, our mother lined us up, removing clips and rollers from our hair, styling one head at a time. Though it defied all logic, there was only one hairbrush in the entire house!
We stepped into new outfits geared to a warm, sunny day, while outside, temperatures hovered around 48 degrees and swirling winds sent straw hats flying. We reached the church a few minutes before 9 - five little girls dressed to the nines, finally walking down the aisle. Even with the church bells ringing, we could hear my mother's huge sigh of relief.
Mom is long gone, but I have it on good authority that she was admitted to a special section of Paradise where sewing machines and irons are prohibited. This Easter, I will don a straw hat and munch on a chocolate bunny in her honor.
