Ukrainian Easter

It`s a day of reflection for me, as our family is under the weather and not attending church this year. We`ll have Easter dinner and admire the pysanky (Ukrainian Easter eggs) my grandson and I made.  He did one based on a short film he`s almost finished (more on that in a later post) and I attempted a simple traditional design. A little shaky,  but fun trying.

Now that I`m writing my grandmother and mother`s memoir, my thoughts turn to the past. Growing up, Easter in our family was the holiest of days. My mother would prepare an basket by first laying a cross-stitched cloth in it, then filling the basket with Paska (a rich yeast bread with raisins and saffron), kybassa (garlic sausage), a square of butter with a cross on top formed from whole cloves, colored eggs and a candle, which would be lit during the church service when the baskets were blessed.  The Ukrainian Greek Orthodox mass was sumptuous, with the priests wearing their finest cassocks made of gold embroidered brocade. The choir would sing, Christ is risen, over and over again and the congregation would join in.

Afterwards, there`d be dinner either at our house or out at my uncle`s farm. My mother`s whole family would be there–what was left of them–as well as the priest, and sometimes my godparents.

Everything my mother knew how to cook seemed to appear like magic on the table that stretched through the living room and into their bedroom. They often had to dismantle their bed and do some furniture arranging before the makeshift tables (long slabs of plywood on sawhorses) could be set up.  After a hearty meal accompanied by many shots of whiskey (for me apricot brandy and seven-up), my family sang old Ukrainian folk songs. What I wouldn`t give to relive one of those days again.

Related posts:

Nostalgia Redux Life Lessons in the Garden Making Magical Memories at Christmas A Priest is Just a Man

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