Easter traditions can make a basket-case out of family relations

By Michael Picarella pic@theacorn.com

Last year, just before Easter, Frankie Trotta told his wife, Julie, that they should stay home for the holiday and begin traditions of their own with their 3-year-old daughter, Anna.

A couple of days after Frankie’s decision, all the typical family phone calls came into the Trotta household.

"You’re coming for Easter, right?"

"What time are you getting here on Easter?"

Frankie had more than one reason for wanting to stay home for Easter.

In a firm voice, Frankie told his wife, "This year for Easter, we’re staying home and starting our own traditions. I don’t care what anyone says. Every Easter, we go to your mom’s house and look at her elaborate decorations. And because your parents are divorced, we also go to your dad’s bachelor’s pad—not exactly perfect for our growing daughter. And then we pick up again and go see my parents who kill us with Italian hospitality.

"Every Easter, we burn ourselves out, going from house to house, watching the clock every half hour planning when we’re going to go to the next place, and I get pricked by a thorn on a rose bush because some Easter basket hider always puts my basket in the garden. And then we come home with more Easter baskets, more Easter eggs and more Easter chocolate bunnies than we possibly need."

Julie wasn’t argumentative about the issue because she also didn’t enjoy going from house to house on Easter. But she’d heard Frankie’s rant before at Christmas time and Easter. And on previous occasions, he never took any action.

But Frankie took a stand last Easter. He called his family and told them that he, his wife and daughter would be staying home for Easter. However, Frankie, being from an Italian family, couldn’t avoid good old-fashioned Italian guilt.

"What do you mean you’re not coming over for Easter?" Frankie’s mother asked when she heard the news. "I’ve been planning this Easter since last Easter. I’m making your favorite dish, the melanzana." (Frankie didn’t really love the melanzana; he just said he did to make his mother happy.)

Frankie’s father would, of course, speak to his son about it.

"Frankie, what’s a matter with you?" he asked his son. (Italian fathers always speak in questions.) "You know what I gotta hear around here because of what you did? You think I want your mother cursing at me all night because her son isn’t coming over for Easter? Why don’t you come over and put me out of my misery?"

The guilt would also come from other family members. Frankie, not immune to guilt, decided he would visit family for Easter.

"I know I said we’d stay home this Easter, but I think we should go to my parents’ house because—well, we don’t want our daughter growing up without grandparents, right?" Frankie said to his wife.

Julie wasn’t going to visit her in-laws’ house and not see her own family for Easter.

"I’m worried about Anna not seeing her grandparents, too. So I’ll call my mom and dad and let them know we’re coming over," Julie told her spouse.

"But sweetie, we agreed that we didn’t want to go from house to house this year," Frankie said.

The couple argued into the night like two politicians playing one-upmanship in a heated debate. Eventually, the couple settled—out of court. They’d see everyone, as they had every year before in their married life.

On Easter morning, Frankie, Julie and Anna left the house early, before the Sunday paper hit the driveway. A longstanding tradition in Julie’s mother’s home was hunting for Easter baskets at sunrise. So everyone had to be in the living room just before the sun began to shine. Julie’s mom made the Easter baskets from scratch, along with 322 Easter bunnies she’d sewn together and scattered throughout the house and the garage.

Anna found her basket in the dishwasher, Julie’s basket was buried behind the Easter tree (an Easter version of a Christmas tree) and Frankie’s basket was in the rose garden. Frankie hadn’t even eaten breakfast and he’d already pricked his finger on a thorn.

At church with Julie’s family, Frankie checked his watch throughout the service. He, Julie and Anna had to be with Frankie’s family at a church across town in an hour.

Another church service, another tale of Jesus’ Resurrection told by another clergyman and another Easter basket hunt. This time the hunt was in the Trotta family backyard. Anna’s basket was behind the statue of Michelangelo’s David, Julie’s was in the tomato sauce cabinet in the garage and Frankie’s was in the rose garden. More Easter eggs, more Easter chocolate bunnies, more blood spurting from Frankie’s finger.

During the melanzana dish, Frankie checked his watch. He, Julie and Anna had to be at Julie’s father’s house for another dinner in an hour. Frankie shoveled the melanzana into his mouth. Once again he confirmed in his mother’s eyes that mama’s melanzana was his favorite dish.

Across town, Frankie, Julie and Anna found themselves looking for more Easter baskets, this time at Julie’s father’s bachelor’s pad apartment. The place was packed with guys and gals from a nearby bar. (Yes, indeed, a great place for Anna.)

Anna found her Easter basket behind a naked woman statue with temporary bunny ears, Julie found her basket in a bathroom that was almost as clean as a portable toilet at a construction site and Frankie found his basket out near the apartment pool, in the rose garden.

Frankie checked his watch as he washed the blood from his rose-pricked finger.

After dinner, which was a layout of cold cuts, cheese and vegetables on black plastic party platters, beer and sodas, Frankie, Julie and Anna dragged their tired bodies to the car and headed home.

In a slow and beaten voice, Frankie told his wife, "Next year for Easter, we’re staying home and starting our own tradition. I don’t care what anyone says, we’re not doing this again."

Frankie pulled the car into the garage. Julie took Anna and nearly crawled into the house and Frankie slowly walked to the driveway to collect the newspaper. It was nowhere to be found.

He looked on the front lawn, then on the neighbor’s driveway. He finally found it. Right near the front door. In the rose garden.

Happy Easter.