Easter Sunday, April 24, 2011. The Latest. Jude Cooks.
This is the latest Easter in my lifetime so far. If I live to be eighty-seven, that Easter will be on April 25, the latest possible date. I don't know why I'm fascinated by such arcane data.
I went to Mass for the first time since the Lundi Gras incident. Having to get around on a rolling walker allowed me to sit in the front pew--something I would always do if on my own, but a habit the rest of my family hates.
Our Lady Of The Lake's clergy has written a prayer to be said at the beginning of Mass, calling for parish unity and blessings on the plans for a new church. It's a controversial idea, this new church. It will be much bigger than the present lovely medium-size facility. Not only are many parishioners against it, but preservationists in Mandeville think it will actually harm the neighborhood. The design is in a gothic style that seems out of place in both space and time to my eyes. But I'm not an active parishioner nor a citizen of Mandeville.
Mary Ann's long-running prohibition against out patronizing businesses open on holidays prevents us from going out for an Easter dinner. Jude has been talking about cooking a dish he calls "chicken Chas," for his alter ego. Pronounced "chaz." He goes around saying "Chas is hungry!" and "Chas" is bored!" It's the latest in his lifetime of oddly humorous shticks.
Chicken Chas was chicken breasts covered with Creole seasoning and sauteed in olive oil, then cut up into cubes and tossed with pasta, zucchini, tomatoes, and garlic. Jude cooked it entirely on his own, with Mary Ann cleaning up the mess. He should have pounded the chicken or cooked it on a lower heat--the exterior was a bit overcooked--but it was certainly good enough to eat. And he was proud of himself.
The kids both got Easter baskets full of chocolate. Of course. Mary Ann clings to every scrap of tradition from the days when they were little and finding their hidden Easter basket was a big thrill. Now both of them are concerned about fattening themselves up on chocolate. And Mary Ann somehow didn't know that Jude's boyhood passion for Reese's everything has since fallen by the wayside.
None of that mattered. There we were, sitting at the old picnic table on the deck. Mary Ann aches all over from having scrubbed and refinished the deck during the past week, to have it just right for this very moment. We ate and talked about nothing much, while in the backs of all our minds was the knowledge that these gatherings of our whole family are being spaced further apart with every passing year. One can get sad about that, or say to oneself that this is the way it's supposed to be.
