Moveable (F)easter
Just tweaking memory here, which should arouse your immediate distrust…
Easter, ca 1955. my paternal grandparents loved to travel, always by car.
This one spring when I was like 5 or 6 they undertook a road trip from Ohio to Mobile, Alabama (now the Redneck Riviera) and decided to take me along, probably to give my parents space with my infant brother Larry Philbin.
Problem was I still believed in the Easter Bunny, and Easter would fall sometime during the drive.
Solution: Color eggs and put them in the fridge along with an empty Easter Basket in my grandparents’ house (from habit the Easter Bunny would visit both my parents’ house and my grandparents), leaving a note for the Easter Bunny about our circumstances and a map (probably a AAA TripTik) of our intended route, and beseeching his forbearance.
Easter morning found us in a motel room somewhere in mid-state Alabama. Despite our elaborate precautions, I awoke at an early hour on Easter morning doubtful that the Easter Bunny was channeling Amazon Prime at that early date.
Dark turned to gray, people rustled, and then didn’t, for what seemed like hours. The room grew bright and hope darkened in lockstep.
THen another rustle. My grandfather awoke and, looking puzzled, reached to the end of the bedspread and emerged with one of the eggs I had colored several days ago.
My heart gladdened as I whisked around the room, finding chocolate and marshmallow hidden goodies, eggs and finally the Easter basket that we had left so hopefully back in Ohio, laden with even more goodies.
That morning we attended a small church that could have been a set for To Kill A Mockingbird, then headed south to my first taste of salt water.
