Remembering Easter eggs circa 1950

What do you remember about Easter egg hunts? Do you remember hunts at church, at school, or at home? What kind of eggs did you find or hunt? The hunts I remember best are the hunts with real eggs colored at home. Coloring the eggs was a challenge without adult help. All the students brought eggs... usually a dozen.

Most of the eggs came from the family’s own chickens. We didn’t raise chickens, so mine came from the Red & White Grocery Store in Buffalo Gap, TX. The eggs we colored at home were an artistic venture. Sometimes the colors came with little designs. Some students always tried to use two colors and made a tacky mess.

I remember quite well when the new kid in our class brought a whole bag of chocolate marshmallow eggs that we all wanted to find.

The first one or two finding the chocolate eggs discovered that the chocolate got all over their face. In that West Texas heat, the chocolate had begun to melt. Besides the chocolate on their faces, many of the kids had chocolate on their clothes and hands. No amount of licking could eliminate the mess.

Now the chocolate incident wasn’t the worst occurrence with Easter eggs.

I’m wondering if you actually could guess the one I’m about to relate. The week after Easter on school bus #15, a terrible thing occurred. I’ll bet every kid on that bus can tell this story. It happened on the way home.

I remember that it was at the gate of Sayles’ ranch. It started with a blood curdling scream from the third grader who always sat behind the driver. Midst the screams, the boy was grabbing at his mouth, spitting big chunks of egg, even hitting the driver, Mr McFerrin, in the back of his head.

The little boy had found that egg in a sack under his seat. Of course, that egg had been there for nearly 2 weeks. He didn’t realize its condition; he peeled and sampled it believing it to be a good snack. He was really young, but what a “life” lesson. It was only an instant before the odor filled the bus.

If you’ve ever smelled a rotten egg, it’s worse than the outhouses behind all the country schools. I had been a girl scout and somehow believed that it was my place to help this young boy. I pulled my hanky out of the book satchel and reached for the boy’s arms.

To add to the dilemma, he thought I was part of the problem and started to push me back, getting stinky stuff all over me. It was time for him to get off the bus, and he left in tears. Of course, peeling a boiled egg often reminds me of this Easter egg tale.

Moral of story — Beware of food found under a school bus seat, no matter how hungry you may be.