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  • Writer's pictureBetty Girardeau

Happy Easter From 1949

For years when I was little my father took Easter pictures of "his girls." Last evening I was thinking about this, and contacted my sister, who is the keeper of the family photo album, to find this particular picture. It took her awhile to find it and, in the meantime, found Easter pictures from 1947 and 1948. I had actually forgotten those, but am happy to have copies of them now, too. But this is the one that I wanted to use for today's post because I I remembered looking really happy in it. I hope most of us are feeling happier this Easter as more and more of us receive vaccinations and can begin to imagine there are going to be happier days in our immediate future. I remember this Easter outfit well. The coat was blue, and I think it was a hand-me-down that my Mother got from one of her friends because it was too big for me, which I didn't like. But my dress, shoes, socks, and in those days requisite hat were all new and just for me. My socks were trimmed with lace and were bought to wear only on Sundays. The hat, a yellow straw, was trimmed with blue velvet ribbon and pastel colored flowers. Of course, my shoes were black patent leather Mary Janes. My Dad often bought corsages for all of us. But I don't think he bought the one on my coat because, as I remember, it was artificial lilies of the valley. I probably spied it when we were shopping for my Easter outfit and begged my Mother to buy it, too. My dress was white dotted Swiss. I loved that fabric, and still do. Over the years I had dotted Swiss dresses in almost every color. It is a decidedly summer weight fabric, and most Easter days in up-state New York could be pretty chilly, occasionally even snowy. That's why "spring coats" were a very necessary part of the ensemble. The Easter Basket that is in the picture was used year after year, stored, still filled with the same "grass," in the attic during the rest of the year. So it was not unusual to find jelly beans and, once, a forgotten dyed egg hidden under the grass. I remember that egg well because I was the one that found it and slipped it on a chair just before my sister sat down on it. My Mother was NOT happy. Thankfully for me, the innards had dried out and there was no damage done to the chair or my sister's clothes. But it did smell. Dying and hiding eggs at Easter was as much of an Easter tradition growing up as having a tree at Christmas. It was a tradition that I shared with my own children, the dying process often becoming an entire family endeavor, including my husband who often came up with some very creative ways to apply the dye. I miss doing that. But this year I did bake Easter Bunny rolls again. I used to often bake when my children were small.

So many happy memories associated with this day.

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