This morning I got a golden parking spot on the ground level of the seven story parking garage. This is like the rarest of the rarest occurrences for someone as tardy as me. Something in the cosmos must have aligned today and dumped all its glory on me. Needless to say, I did an awesome dance of humble success outside my parked car. I really hope the security cameras caught that one because it’s a keeper.
Today is going to be a good day.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Easter Pickles
A few years ago I sat down at the dining room table for Easter dinner with the family. The table was bright and set as usual with a beautiful honey ham, deviled eggs, Steve’s jello salad, potatoes, some greens, some fruit and…pickles. Pickles. Hm. That is an unusual thing to be on our table all by their lonesome in a pretty dish, I thought to myself. So, me being me, proceeded with something like this:
Me: What is with the pickles?
Mom: Uh Stephanie, they are pickles, you eat them.
Me: I know, but like are they special or are we supposed to do anything with them?
Mom: Yeah, you eat them.
Me: I know, but we never just have pickles on the table unless we have like hamburgers or something. (this it totally true by the way)
Mom: Stephanie, they are just pickles, if you don’t want them don’t eat them.
Me: Hm ok, but it’s weird.
Mom: It’s not weird, they are just PICKLES!
Me: Ok, yikes, I’m sorry.
I didn’t eat the Easter pickles that year out of sheer confusion.
That was all it took. Now every year we have pickles on the table for Easter. They are a family tradition. A random placement that turned into a mandatory item we all now love and laugh about.
Thanks to this year’s Easter pickles, I was thinking a lot about traditions this weekend. I went to an egg hunting/coloring party where we had some non-American born guests. They were fascinated by our hunting and coloring of eggs. It had never really occurred to me that this was almost solely an American tradition and how funny that was. I don’t know exactly how the tradition came about, I’ve heard a few theories. My guess, it came about the same way our Easter pickles did. Somebody just decided to try something new and it stuck. What makes some last so long is what they start meaning to us, individually.
Even if created haphazard, traditions are a beautiful thing. They often provide joyous anticipation, bring back wonderful memories and offer something to share and pass on. It would take me forever to write down all the traditions that have become a part of my life. Some have expired, some are brand new and some have been around and will live on forever. I don’t know why I color Easter eggs, but I know it reminds me of spring, being around friends and family and that alone brings a smile to my face. I will never understand why there were pickles in a dish that Easter, but I know now they remind me of my mom and being at home with people I love. That is enough for the Easter pickles to always have a special place in my heart from now on.
Me: What is with the pickles?
Mom: Uh Stephanie, they are pickles, you eat them.
Me: I know, but like are they special or are we supposed to do anything with them?
Mom: Yeah, you eat them.
Me: I know, but we never just have pickles on the table unless we have like hamburgers or something. (this it totally true by the way)
Mom: Stephanie, they are just pickles, if you don’t want them don’t eat them.
Me: Hm ok, but it’s weird.
Mom: It’s not weird, they are just PICKLES!
Me: Ok, yikes, I’m sorry.
I didn’t eat the Easter pickles that year out of sheer confusion.
That was all it took. Now every year we have pickles on the table for Easter. They are a family tradition. A random placement that turned into a mandatory item we all now love and laugh about.
Thanks to this year’s Easter pickles, I was thinking a lot about traditions this weekend. I went to an egg hunting/coloring party where we had some non-American born guests. They were fascinated by our hunting and coloring of eggs. It had never really occurred to me that this was almost solely an American tradition and how funny that was. I don’t know exactly how the tradition came about, I’ve heard a few theories. My guess, it came about the same way our Easter pickles did. Somebody just decided to try something new and it stuck. What makes some last so long is what they start meaning to us, individually.
Even if created haphazard, traditions are a beautiful thing. They often provide joyous anticipation, bring back wonderful memories and offer something to share and pass on. It would take me forever to write down all the traditions that have become a part of my life. Some have expired, some are brand new and some have been around and will live on forever. I don’t know why I color Easter eggs, but I know it reminds me of spring, being around friends and family and that alone brings a smile to my face. I will never understand why there were pickles in a dish that Easter, but I know now they remind me of my mom and being at home with people I love. That is enough for the Easter pickles to always have a special place in my heart from now on.
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