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AN ODE TO PASSOVER/EASTER PAST

AN ODE TO PASSOVER/EASTER PAST

On Easter Sundays when I was young

Dad took my sister and me to the zoo

To participate in the egg hunts

We found nothing, had no clue.

Until we spoke to the egg-hider

Dad always knew “The Man”

We were quietly led to the hiding places

We gathered pastel eggs and ran.

To the booth to collect our prizes

Chocolate bunnies we took home

We ate our bunnies that day and next

But this is not the end of my poem.

Passover was more than an egg hunt

It meant a lot to me

We had Seders at Aunt Yetta’s

She lived downstairs of Grandma D.

Uncle Louie or Dad conducted

We had every homemade dish

Chopped liver with schmaltz , hard matzo balls

And Grandma ’s gefilte fish.

Uncle Louie’s Seders went on too long

Dad happily skipped pages

Four questions were asked by eight first cousins

We came in a wide-range of ages.

We left for college, work and marriages

And no longer returned for the Seder

Grandma Davidoff moved to Heaven

The next generation went later.

I don’t make schmaltzy liver

For our simple, smallish Seder

Our grown kids ask the four questions

It continues getting later.

THE END

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