Happy Easter

I clearly remember Holy Saturday when I was nine however not for religious reasons. It is a recollection entwined with admiration, love and childhood generosity. Unless of course, one considers shopping a sort of religion. I don’t think I do although I do hold great affection for retail therapy. It is here however that I find writing it’s own therapy in expressing the experiences I had as a child that are the fabric of what make up my heart. That I was invited into Gloria Novello’s house to see Joann’s Easter dress created a tapestry of images. Joann was 16 and always sweet to me regardless of the age difference. She had beautiful black hair and eyes that twinkled a smile as if at any moment something magical might happen. If she was outside even for ten minutes to practice her cheerleading it was a happy moment for me and I would run up the block to watch while sitting on the curb or perfecting my cartwheel and polish up my rhymes from Mother Goose to learning Wood-Ridge football cheers.

I also remember that rarely did we get invited to go in a neighborhood friend’s house, you just played outside. Early on we didn’t even ring the door bell. Kids just ‘called for’ a friend by calling outside the house for them to go out to play. To be called in was a special event itself. The Novello’s house always smelled like a party to me, like zeppoles at the carnival and Holy Saturday was no different. The smell seemed to permeate the air around the open windows. I took a hungry deep breath as I stepped inside the small softly lit living room having been called in to see Joann’s Easter dress. She and her mother were arguing over how high the hem should be. I was stunned having never seen anything like it. It was made from a black delicate chiffon fabric, with a v-neck and long sheer bell sleeves. Mrs. Novello was pinning it short all the while saying, “Your fathers going to kill me if I make it any shorter.” Joann began to argue, her Mother saying that the hem was high enough but at the same time I noticed she pinned it to where Joann wanted anyhow. She looked just spectacular to me and even at that age I knew how special the dress was. On Easter girls wore a soft pastel color to church with lace gloves and even a hat. Joann was wearing this very vogue beautiful dress. I loved it. That dress began my unconscious lifelong search for the Holy Grail of Dresses each time an occasion came up in my world. After all, if you can wear spectacular anything else is insignificant.

Fast forward to February when I was invited to “Howlin’ for Hubert” at the Apollo Theatre. This benefit for the blues master Hubert Sumlin who influenced so many was sold out in minutes. I had gotten a ticket thru Jimmy V who was performing and even though I had a closet full of clothes to wear I still looked for something special. I happened to be in Lord & Taylor when I found myself face to face with the 2012 version of Joann’s Easter dress in black lace. I hadn’t consciously thought of it in years however I saw the dress on the hanger and floated across the store to it, my feet never touching the ground. In the dressing room, it fit perfect and I thought I even saw that twinkle of Joann’s in my own eye in that mirror. I was bewitched by my own childhood memory that had materialized.

The spirit of my very special childhood friend rises each Easter in my heart as I think of her and my family and friends that are on the other side. With gratitude in my heart I can only be happy to have been touched by so much love throughout my life.

And yes, I'm also thankful to wake up this morning with just the right dress in my closet.

Happy Easter