JANET

Easter has always been a very important affair at our house. The father of both my boys is Greek which turned Easter celebrations into something even more magical.

On Good Friday, we would go to Church mass and the whole congregation would follow the Priest around the block in a parade. After the ceremony was over, we would go home for the big feast to break fast.

As the children got older, I introduced the custom of each child painting an egg with something that represented the year gone by.

You had to blow the yolks and whites out of the egg so they would last forever. As the years went by there was quite the collection of these eggs and they were hung on bare branches in the middle of the table setting. Bare Magnolia branches always looked the best.

JAKE

My fondest memories of Easter are from the traditional Greek feasts my grandma and aunties would create each year. You were encouraged to fill and refill your plate many times – to your hearts and bellies desire.

At the start of the celebrations you would be handed a basket of boiled eggs which had been dyed red. You could inspect and choose an egg which would be used later in a tense egg battle with the rest of the family. If your egg survived the test it was said that you would have good luck for the rest of the year.

One year my grandma handed me an egg rather than letting me choose. Upon a failed attempt to put my foot down, she made it very clear that I wanted the egg she was giving me and no other. That year, to my gleeful surprise I won the family tournament undefeated.

As an adult, I know that she either rigged it, or she has some sixth egg sense that grandma’s developed over the years.

Even though my grandma is no longer with us, our family still meets every year and I haven’t won a tournament since.

Christos Anesti!