March 27, 2005
My best memories of Easter are with my grandmother, "Mother Dear" as we called her, spending all day Easter's eve Saturday pressing hair. Getting our hair done for a holiday was a big event for my cousins and I, despite being tenderheaded. Sitting in her kitchen, one by one, hair wet from a thorough washing, we sat patiently until our turn.
The air was filled with a strange bouquet of pressed hair, hair pomade and shampoo. If we behaved, there was ice cream, If we didn't, there was a switch. Now "Dear" was a woman that ruled her house with a velvet glove. Very few times did we have to be reprimanded, she was such a loving woman. She would spend hours standing up to grease, part, pressed and style up to 3 heads. It was as natural to her as breathing for this holiday ritual.
As we dressed the next morning, sometimes in similar garments, or at times matching ones, we would "play fight" for mirror time to twirl and admire her handy work. Topping us off with hats, gloves, matching purses and shoes, my little crew of cousins and I skipped outside on the porch to be transported to the annual Easter church service.
Memories like these are what I cherish most about holidays. I understand the significance of this day and would never diminish it, but to reminisce about family is sweeter than jelly beans.