Family of One Celebrates Easter

There should probably not be a reason for a single person to feel down on Easter; after all, the holiday is about the resurrection of our Lord Jesus and not particularly wrapped around celebrations with family and friends. In its purest form, it is the holiest of days, a day for reflection about one’s faith and joy about the message that He is risen and what that represents for eternal life.

So, why did I feel so sad? I love my church in the Grove, I have so much to which I look forward (Stephen Sondheim’s 80th birthday celebration in NYC, a visit to Madrid this summer, countless visits from beloved friends, etc). But, I really felt that I was missing out by not participating in one of those lovely, scrumptious Southern buffets that are traditionally served as part of Easter lunch among many of my friends. I had told myself that I was sure it would be OK to visit one of these friends, but I don’t like the thought of intruding on their family time and being seen as one of those dreaded “orphans”, like on Thanksgiving Day.

After lolling on the sectional sofa on Friday evening, pondering a solution to this dilemma, I realized what I needed to do. Being in possession of several fine side dishes that I had brought back from a fabulous dinner at Prime 112 with colleagues AND having just purchased a tres petite ham as well as some lovely white asparagus, I decided to make my own buffet.

Usually, I will prepare a lovely plate and either eat while watching something on TCM while stretched out on the blue sofa on the second floor of the triplex OR I will curl up on the sectional sofa on the first floor of the triplex while listening to music. It had never occurred to me to create a buffet for myself, but it was wonderful fun.

I heated the ham and roasted the asparagus and placed those on one plate. Then, I filled faux Chinese porcelain bowls with the sides from Prime 112—mashed sweet potatoes, cauliflower au gratin, and creamed corn with truffles. I opened a half bottle of a 2006 St. Estephe that I brought back from Paris. I stretched out on the blue sofa since there was a wonderful documentary about Hollywood musicals filling the screen. I was happy as Peter Rabbit.

And, then, of course, today I had a wonderful time at my church service, particularly enjoying a rousing rendition of Widor’s Toccata in G and a thoughtful sermon, followed by brunch at my dear Jaguar where I saw a colleague from Boston as well as friend from book club.

I must point out that when I told Mother about the buffet, her immediate response to my description of a tiny ham was “that ham did not come from a pig because no pig could produce anything tiny—that ham must have come from a squirrel”. I really could not argue with her logic.

On another Mother related note, I was surprised that she did not become obsessed by the recent storms that decimated many homes in the High Point area. Thanks to many of you who wrote to make sure that Mother and Dad were OK. The night of the storms, she called and said very mildly that there seemed to be some bad storms heading for Guilford County.

A couple of days later, she recounted the following—“on the night of the storm, someone rang our back doorbell (an outside door that leads on to a sun room of sorts)—I peered out to see who it was and it was a person dressed in a long, black coat with a ski mask and a big, black hat. I said, ‘dear Lord, please don’t tell me that Carson and I are going to be killed tonight’. It was Mrs.C.W. Scott, Jr, from next door who braved the storm to tell us that our phone was off the hook. She had put on every conceivable piece of clothing she could find. “

I pointed out that the killer probably would not ring the doorbell and, hence, she was not in immediate danger. But, she came right back—“they ring the doorbell to throw you off the track”.

Our thoughts and prayers are with those folks who suffered considerable damage during the terrible storms.

And, hoping that you have a lovely Easter or Passover or beautiful spring day.