This week my blog is dedicated to Easter
It was always a special time for my family.
I can still see my Mom making her dough .
She’d collect her coffee cans weeks ahead to be ready.
She got all her ingredients together and had such painstaking
Love and pride in making her Easter bread.
They were her babies and she’d hover over them and
roll them so they stayed nice and round
She would make three / four runs at it, so we’d have about 25
by the time she was through, all different sizes.
They tasted so wonderful .
She never gave away her recipes,
But people would call her and ask
to exchange one of hers for one of theirs.
She could have said no but she never did.
It was her pleasure to make people happy.
My job was to make the pysanky eggs to give away.
My Dad would have the job of going to St Lawrence Street to get the special bacon
which could be eaten as is, and the schmaltz herring, the best in the whole world.
He would get the cheese to make the special cheese dish made for this occasion.
And the polish garlic sausage that was sold in rings and other kolbassa’s. like Moishes smoked meat.
They sold caviar in glass jars. It was always fresh.
Fresh salt was also included on the list.
You could never beat Montreal’s, St Lawrence Street, where food was concerned in those days.
The smells filled the street as you walked from store to store.
The old people knew their stuff and the secrets died along with them.
I have never tasted a bagel or a cheese knish, poppy seed danish or even rye bread, as good as the way
these people made them. Their stores never cried for customers.
They came in hoards and there was always enough.
The ovens baked continuously. People worked quickly.
It was a question of pride for them.
Being war survivors, food was important to enjoy.
And very few people were fat.
Preparing for Easter was a very big thing for our family
We always had a beautiful basket to take to church to be blessed.
Every family went out of their way for their baskets and it brought people
together because we could compare notes,
have nice things to talk about and share.
Today it is all changed. We throw away so many good traditions which are important
to raise good families.
We set examples for our children to follow and if nothing is important
to us, then nothing is important to them either.
So I dedicate this week to Easter.
I dedicate it to the Love this man Jesus, brought into my life.
I thank him for sending me to be born, live with and understand war survivors
who raised me to be a good person, and kept me ignorant of the ugliness
they had to go through, so I could have a child hood.
They could have been bitter but instead they learned what it meant to be alive
how to love, and how special every day is.
Though they may be gone, I carry them in my heart and soul and every day
I feel their presence all around me.
I see their eyes and their smiles.
I miss them
I miss their sunshine but I am happy knowing that where they are today
is a blessed place.
:)
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