|My brothers, cousins, and Mom acting crazy.|
After the church service, much of the family would gather at my grandfather's house for some good food and general frivolity. My parents and different aunts and uncles would supply the eggs, stuffing them with candy mostly, but a select few eggs were always filled with money. It started with loose change, and, for the most part, the eggs would sport less than a dollar. But the Super Egg was a different story. It started with $20 or so, but each year, the Super Egg haul grew. Steadily, the contents increased, $30-plus, $40-plus, $50-plus, one year even eclipsing the $100 mark. Now, for us older kids, it was really the only reason to hunt. For me, being diabetic, I couldn't be interested in the candy-filled eggs. Instead of baskets of candy, my parents would stuff my Easter basket with paperback novels and t-shirts. The smaller hunts were fun, but really it was all about the Super Egg.
Anticipation grew throughout the early afternoon, as the mothers would fill the different eggs and the children buzzed about, scoping the yard and trying to spy this year's Super Egg Hiding Spot. Over the years, the party changed houses, but the most memorable Super Egg Hunts always took place at Abuelo's. His backyard sported a pool (which each child needed to fall into as a family rite-of-passage), a tiki-hut, a bar, a small basketball court, a shed, several trees, hedges and bushes, and a canal. It really was the ideal terrain for such activities. The familyroom's panoramic sliding glass doors let all of us study the grounds as the adults prepared the Hunt. And once we saw Uncle Mike moving from Dad to Dad asking for some Super Egg cash, there was almost no containing us.
|Us kids excitedly awaiting the Hunt. No |
surprise my brother Chris (Super Egg
World Record Holder) is trying to sneak up.
|Released for the Super Egg. The blur |
is Nicky, and the happy child behind is JJ.
The release was done only a few at a time, the youngest children darting out first. As the older children impatiently waited our turn, the adults reveled in our anticipatory discomfort. Some adult always had to pretend one of the particularly young children had found the Super Egg, which we older kids knew was patently absurd. Uncle Mike would never let that happen. Still, it riled us up. Once we were released, they couldn't get that sliding door open fast enough. We older kids poured out into the backyard, eyes sharply surveying the situation. Each of us would branch out in a different direction, absentmindedly picking up lesser eggs and asking some of the little ones if they'd seen Uncle Mike lingering somewhere.
|Chris checking the rafters |
of the tiki-hut.
|I found It!|
Sadly, the Super Egg Hunt is no longer a yearly tradition. Most of the children of my generation are too old to participate, and these days, parts of the family use Easter to vacation out of town. As a new generation of Hunters grows up, the legend of Super Egg Hunts passed are told. There aren't as many Hunters these days, the number having dwindled to less than eight. I'm one of the few from my generation that adds to the Super Egg purse, but I do so begrudgingly. While the Hunts may only happen every other year or so, Uncle Mike's flair still shines, and hopefully, my son Jason and I will be the first father-son winners of the Hunt, but he'd better hurry up and win because Chris is getting married in November...