“They have Easter egg hunts in Philadelphia
-
Bob Uecker
I can only remember
going on one Easter egg hunt, and I was in college at the time. The egg hunt was
the day before Easter, and since the weather was rainy and many students went
home for the weekend, I don’t think anyone showed up. I did not live on campus.
Since I worked my way through college, I drove the 12 winding, hilly miles of country roads to
school each day and then drove back down the same roads to go to work after my last class of the day.
Anyway, when Monday
came around, the weather was still cloudy, damp and cool. I parked
by the practice football field, which was very near the fine arts building. I
noticed that there was a colored egg in the grass just a couple of feet from the paved parking
spots. Looking more closely, I found another. When I shared this information
with a classmate, we decided that we would examine this phenomenon further during an open
slot at noon.
At noon, we began
searching the practice football field and learned that apparently no one had
attended the Easter egg hunt that weekend. Eggs were everywhere, including all
of the plastic eggs that were redeemable for prizes. We left the dyed eggs on
the field, focusing instead on the prize eggs. Not to appear overly greedy, we
limited ourselves to four prize eggs each, and left the remaining winners in a
neat little heap at the 50 yard line.
Ah, the spoils of
victory! At the student union, we redeemed our winning eggs for Wham-O
Frisbees, college ball caps, and student union gift certificates. That was a
half hour well spent!
When I was a kid,
Easter meant my dad boiling a mixture of water and vinegar, then pouring that
into small plastic cups that remind me of modern deli containers. Since
plastic cups like these were uncommon back in the 1960s, I’m not sure where
they came from. A few drops of food coloring went into each container, and the
egg dyeing began. A spoon was used to lower the egg into the color (no fancy
wire egg holders for us), and the colored egg, dye still wet, was placed on a
towel to dry. The towel used was an old, raggedy one specifically designated
for this function. The towel had years of blended egg dye stains, and must have
been stored with the plastic cups. The dry eggs were put in a large, clear glass
mixing bowl and displayed on the kitchen table.
These eggs sat out
on the table until they were all eaten. The dark blue ones that had been left
in the dye too long were eaten first, since they were the least attractive eggs. The last to be consumed were the fancy
double-dipped eggs. These were dyed by hand, with one half held submerged in
one of the cups until the desired tint was achieved. Once dry, the
opposite end would be dunked in a separate color. Sometimes a white band would
be left undyed to create the coveted tri-color egg! In my young mind, they were almost too beautiful to be eaten. Almost.
Blending dyes created colors Dr. Frankenstein would be proud of. I ended up with purplish bruise- colored eggs, some that were tinted mud brown, and one memorable egg that was a pitiful blackish-gray color. There were a few successes though, including a nice orange shade and a pleasant pinkish color one time. Those pleasant tones were the outliers. As a whole, my dye blends were an eyesore.
How we survived
certain death from consuming non-refrigerated boiled eggs is beyond me. It must be the
same way we managed to avoid the grim reaper as we played in the dirt and rode
bicycles without helmets. I do know that all of those eggs were eaten every
year, either as a snack with a little salt, or sliced on the hard boiled egg
slicer and eaten as a sandwich with some mustard on top. No one ever became ill from eating them.
Maybe
we were just lucky. Nowadays, TV news reports tell you to get those in the
fridge immediately after dyeing them, and eat them within two days. This year, I saw a news report warning that the only way to be sure you and your loved ones would safe was to use plastic eggs. I don’t know… they seem
like they would be hard to chew up and would cause a lot of damage as they
worked through your digestive system. Plus, I’m sure they don’t taste as good
as real eggs.
My wife and I make deviled eggs every Easter, though it seems a little sacrilegious. We just
like deviled eggs, and Easter is egg time after all.
I have heard that
one of the benefits of getting older is that you can hide your own Easter eggs.
No matter if you hide your own this year, or watch your kids, grandkids or
maybe perfect strangers seek hidden eggs, please don't boo them like the folks in the City of Brotherly Love do.
I hope your Easter is truly egg-cellent!
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