happy easter!

Growing up in New Orleans, we celebrated Easter in ways that I naively thought were ... um... normal. I though they were the same traditions everyone followed. As I grew older, I learned that was not the case.

They’re called cascarones, and after some online research, I learned that “it's believed Marco Polo brought them from Asia and eventually made it to Spain, Americas and Mexico… Today many say that the colorful confetti shower brings luck and good fortune to those to whom an egg is broken over their head.”

My family would go through at least a dozen eggs each week, probably more. When making breakfast, my mom would crack the eggs carefully so that the hole was as small as possible. Then, she’d wash the insides, let them dry and store them in our laundry room until spring. Then, the fun began.

A couple weeks before the big day, we’d change into old clothes and cover the kitchen table with newspaper. We dyed dozens and dozens of eggs each year. Once they were dry, we’d sprinkle confetti inside – about one-third full. Then, we’d glue tissue-paper squares on top of each egg to seal them tightly.

On Easter Sunday, we’d join the family at my Grandma’s house and us kids would have to stay inside while the parents hid all of the eggs in the backyard. When we got the signal, we’d run outside and try to gather as many as we could without cracking, dropping or accidentally stepping on any of them. As soon as you could get close to someone, you’d crack one on top of his or her head.

The best strategy was to wait until someone was out of eggs and had to bend over or reach high to collect one, leaving them quite vulnerable.

Then, SMASH! The confetti would get stuck in their hair, fall down their shirt, their pants, and even their shoes. As we my brother, my cousins and I grew older, we all got way more competitive, and we’d come up with ways to use the cascarones for evil.

“Stop throwing them at me!!! Mom, tell him he’s not supposed to throw them!” My whiny screams were immortalized on our beta video camera. But those buggers hurt when your teen-age brother threw them at your arms and legs – seriously, I had welts! But really, it was so much fun. I know, what you're thinking -- it doesn't sound like an appropriate way to celebrate Jesus; but, you know, it definitely brought our family together.

Today, my cousins have children, and my mom still makes cascarones for them. It’s a family tradition that will live on no matter where we all end up.