Easter Dig
Easter has a lot of significance to the lives of millions of believers with the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus. If it does not, it should. As the years have accumulated in my life I am more and more in appreciation of the historical and spiritual importance of this religious observance. The fulfillment of prophecy in scripture by Jesus regarding the Jewish feasts relating to the Passover is indeed something to be commemorated. Generation to generation should teach their children more about the true purpose of Easter. My wife and I deliberately try to infuse meaning into special events of the year such as Easter. I also admit in the context of a commercialized society it can be challenging to teach children the importance of this holiday and the
wonderful celebrations associated with it. As a child I must admit Easter meant bunnies, baskets and egg hunts.
The earliest hunt I recall was actually a dig. My grandparents lived in a one bedroom garage apartment, one block from the beach on Galveston Island and one Easter my brothers and I took our buckets rather than baskets to our egg hunt. I was only two or three at the time and my bucket seemed big to me. My two older brothers lined up with a bunch of older children behind a rope. My parents told me to wait for my group, whatever that meant. I watched as off they dashed when the rope dropped and an adult yelled, “go.” Everything seemed big; the older kids, the beach, the ocean. Of course I didn’t know exactly what was actually happening. I recall my grandmother urging my brothers on. Kids with their scoops were shoveling sand grabbing different colored blocks of wood as they scurried about. I liked the blue and red c
olored ones. The intensity made me a little concerned.
I do not recall if my brothers did well in their quest. The next thing I recall was digging in the sand with my mother. We were in a much smaller confined roped off area. My older siblings were not allowed to dig this time which I didn’t understand at the time, but of course I now realize it only for us little bitty ones. My mom 
said, “Dig there.” I stuck my shovel in the sand and there was a yellow block. Not my favorite color, but I liked the clunk as it dropped into my bucket. “Yellow is good, they are the best,” she said. Reflecting back I realize she planted my prize find. I played in the sand while mom dropped a few more blocks in my bucket for me.
The next remembrance is going to the building where my grandmother would do her fish buying. I didn’t particularly like this smelly building with the fish eyes staring at me eye level. Some of the fish already hand their heads cut off. A little bit of blood here and there. Grandma would go there almost daily to get shrimp for gumbo or for making fried shrimp. At the time I’m not sure I cared much for seafood but my grandparents had it all the time. On that day there was a table with something on it other than fish. 
My dad walked me up to it and told me to hand the man my colored blocks. I had to stretch my hand up just to put my blocks on the table. A man handed me some pretty wrapped egg shaped prizes. He showed extra excitement for my golden yellow block. “Here you are young man,” he happily spoke as he handed me one more wrapped egg. “Open it,” dad said. “It’s a chocolate egg,” he said with a smile on his face. I didn’t know what he meant. I knew of dyed hard boiled eggs and hard colored sugar eggs wrapped in clear plastic, but this was different.
As I un-wrapped the egg I noticed a quarter hidden underneath the chocolate egg. Wow, a chocolate egg was something different, a real treat in those days. And the quarter, well that was indeed a big deal.
A lot of money back then. I gleefully showed dad the treasure. I bit into the egg and it was soft inside, and pink. The sweet paste had a mild strawberry taste. My egg hunt had resulted in hidden treasure. I’m not sure I’ve ever had as exciting a hunt as my Easter dig. It was probably not my first hunt but it is the first one I can remember. I also believe it was also my last Easter dig. No more buckets and buried treasure; the rest would be with baskets. A good hunt, a good dig, a good eat, a good Easter. Now that I’m an adult I realize that the true treasure of Easter is hidden in the riches of the Kingdom of Christ. These take a lifetime of seeking and hunting to find as the Lord reveals himself to those who earnestly search for his truths.
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Easter Chicks
I have many good Easter remembrances that are treasured memories for me. Too many stories to relate in the context of one article but I would like to share one that I experienced as a child that I will never forget.
I was eight years old in 1962 and in a playful mood when I got off the school bus. At the other end of the yard I noticed my oldest brother looking into our abandoned rabbit cage. The rabbit had died some time back so I was curious. Suddenly, I was mesmerized and quite focused as I looked in amazement at four pretty little chickens. One was green, one pinkish red, one blue, and one was purple. I had not heard we were going to get these for Easter but I was sure pleased. I just stood looking into the cage with wonderment. My next oldest brother and my younger brother soon joined us in gawking at the baby chicks. I think I was the happiest kid on the planet.
In the 50’s and 60’s when I got something cool it was usually for Christmas, my birthday, or when dad brought home something in the suitcase when he returned from TDY. Seems funny now that I think about it that I never knew what TDY meant. I just knew it meant dad would be gone for a while and we had to help mom more. It would not be until years later when I was in the service I would learn what TDY (temporary duty) meant. Wow, to get something neat like these baby chicks for Easter, well, that was unusual. It was special. It was great.
“Mom says we each get to pick a color,” my oldest brother said with a smile on his face. He was five years older but that seemed like a lot at the time. Then he added, “The youngest gets to go first,” and “I’ll be last.” This was one time I did not want to be last as my eye was leaning toward the purple chick. I have always liked blues and purples but that day I leaned toward the purple. I anxiously waited for my younger brother to choose. I didn’t say a word as I suspected he might choose the one I liked. I had learned that lesson when dad had brought back some matchbox racecars from Germany one year and I let slip the one I wanted. I heard my next oldest brother exclaim, “I like the red one.
”
“Are you ready to choose?” my older brother asked and added, “no changing.” Back then rules were to be honored and if nothing else enforced. “I want the red one,” my younger brother said with a sense of victory in his voice. I paused for a moment with my time in the driver’s seat while my next oldest brother glared at me. He had lost out on the red chick so I suspect his happy mood from a moment earlier was diminished. I pointed to the purple and said, “I want that one.” The older brothers selected accordingly. We shooed away the cats and let the chicks walk in the yard while we occasionally held them in our hands giggling if they relieved themselves while being our hostages.
Several days went by. They began to eat more, get louder and were getting faster. Once out of the cage they learned to evade us better, and they improved at doing so daily. I didn’t blame them. Each day as I exited the bus I would dash to see the chicks. And then came the dreadful moment.
One day as I approached the cage I noticed one of the chicks was lying down. I then realized he wasn’t moving. He was the purple one. My purple baby chick was dead. I was stunned. I was also speechless and motionless. I did not want to cry as you know boys didn’t cry in those days, especially with three brothers. My next older brother arrive to yell “your chick is dead,” as he giggled at me with some reservation. I just stared in unbelief. My younger brother who was five at the time arrived with a puzzled look perhaps not realizing these chicks could actually die. I know I had not thought it would happen so soon. I still get a little teary eyed to this day when I think about it. I wanted my special baby chick to move, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t, he was after all, dead. My glorious days of wonderment had come to an end so soon.
My oldest brother arrived and placed his hand on my shoulder. “I think that is my chick that died,” he said. “No, it is not,” another brother added, “yours was blue and the dead one is purple.” My oldest went on to say, “the blue and purple looked a lot alike to begin with and after a few days I could not tell them much apart, except that the dead one is mine.” I just stood there trying to hold back from crying. I could not bring myself to say anything, but I knew it was not his chick. So did everyone else. We buried the chick as we did all of our lost pets. My enjoyment was never quite the same and I can’t recall how much longer the others lasted. I don’t think any of them lived very long.
I’m not sure colored baby chicks are sold much anymore. I had heard that exposing the chicks to colored dyes was not good for them. At Easter for my own kids we did bunnies. All but one ended up living a good number of years. We also did ducks for my wife one year which was fun. 
We hopefully all have some good remembrances at Easter that we cherish. The gracious kindness of my older brother who was only twelve years of age at the time was remarkable. Most of us do not learn to put others ahead of ourselves until we are adults. Of course some people never learn to be sensitive to others. I will never forget his example on that day, sometime around Easter many years ago.
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Honk Honk
The airplane ride was a bit long but a neat experience. Not only was getting to fly a first for me but my family got to eat on the plane. I thought that would be something to brag about. The year was 1963, and at nine years old I was, “just on for the ride,” as one might say. Let mom and dad do the driving, or in this case, the Air Force. We were going to Germany, wherever or whatever that was. I had seen some war movies where the other guys were “the Germans,” but that is all I had heard about this place.
I cannot recall if this plane was a jet that had taken us from New York, but the plane that flew us from Texas to New York was one with “propellers,” as my brothers and I would say. I got sick on that flight, but I seemed to do better on the excursion across the ocean. As soon as we exited the plane in Germany I was happy. The sights, sounds and smells were all different but I liked the experience. Those would be the happiest years of my life, from ’63 to ‘65.
To begin with there were lots of men in uniform, some green(Army) and some blue(Air force). My dad wore a suit as he always did. By the way, all of us were dressed up, the coat and tie. That is just the way people traveled back then. He worked with the Air Force but always wore a suit not a uniform. I was into guns and tanks at that age and enjoyed getting on the big blue(Air Force) bus to take us to our new home. As we traveled on the German highway the cars zipped by our slow bus. They seemed to be going real fast. Dad told me it was, “the autobahn,” and that cars could go as fast as they like. “Wow,” I thought to myself, “we could drive like the race car movies.” That was “neat,” as we would say back then. I believe most us think the same thing when they hear, “the autobahn.” “Wow, you can drive as fast as you like.”
The autobahn is just one of many wonderful childhood experiences I had on my journey to the beautiful country of Germany. I liked it so much that years later I promised my wife that I someday wanted to take her there. I was very pleased when in 1980 my wife and I received orders for us to travel to Germany, only this time I would be in the blue uniform. We spent three very good years there. After 30 years we still keep in touch with our German friends. We lived off base within the German community and our landlords were always very gracious to us. He was older and did not speak English but had a very kind demeanor. He could also fix anything which I admired. His wife spoke English as my wife spoke some German and they enjoyed the company of each other very much. My wife and I cherish the memories of our time in Germany, except ironically of the autobahn.
We drove an Opel Manta. It was a nice little car with some zip to it. However, when you are going 150 km/h(90 mph) there could be someone behind you going 220km/h(140mph).
They can be upon you in no time. As you can envision an accident could be quite dangerous. The other thing is that you have to keep totally focused while driving the autobahn, no sightseeing. Germany has great scenery and if you travel that fast you are going to miss the beauty all around you. In many respects our American lives are like being on the autobahn. We enjoy the thrill of getting to experience lots of things and accomplish numerous goals many of which are often good. It takes lots of energy and we always seemed rushed. However, as for me, now that I am in my fifties I have made some deliberate choices to slow down.
I enjoy retreating from the world by resting a few minutes each day in my wife’s study. It is quiet and she has designed it to encourage reflective thinking if one chooses. I love it when the cat hops in my lap and purrs me to sleep. I also enjoy our patio very much. I like to watch the West Texas sun set. Actually, I’m a morning person and my most peaceful time of day is on the patio watching God usher in a new day. The sky is limitless as I watch the tapestry of colors change from black to navy blue, to pale blue with the orange glow transforming night to day. I do not have the trees that are in Germany but I enjoy the warm open skies of Texas.
Yes, the autobahn has a certain thrill to it, but I think I’ll exit, slow down, and enjoy some of the scenery that life has right here in front of me.
Factoids:
The advised speed limit is 130km/h(80mph). You are responsible to slow down in inclement weather.
Almost half of Germany’s autobahn system actually has some speed restrictions.
Trucks are not allowed to travel over 80km/h.
High traffic volume in reality often forces motorists to travel no faster than the vehicle in front of them.
Some states within Germany have recently legislated a speed limit on autobahn within their jurisdiction. Motor enthusiasts with high performance cars are fearful more parts of the country will follow suit. They dread the day that all of Germany may have a speed limit.
Ausria and Switzerland also have autobahns.
The following is one of the situation cards I included in the game Treasure Trove. It is one of the cards included in Europe’s stack of cards.
To learn more about the game and to experience your own journey around the world go to www.TreasureTroveGame.com
Route 66
The TV show, “Gunsmoke,” started at 8 P.M. on Saturday nights in the 1960’s. My brothers and I would quick draw the opening scene and always enjoyed tumbling to the floor because Matt Dillon got the best of us. We enjoyed one more hour of TV with mom and dad before it was time to, “hit the sack,” as dad would say. Once the show ended it was off to bed, no questions asked, and I mean pronto.
My younger brother and I were banished to the bedroom while my two older brothers got to stay up for one more hour of TV. I must have been a fairly compliant child because I don’t recall myself putting up too much of a fuss. It would not have made any difference anyway; that was just the rule and we had to do it. However, it was the music theme of the show that has been embedded in my brain the rest of my life. I do not know the name of the song but I can easily recognize the theme song to the TV show, “Route 66.” I heard it every Saturday night for years as I begrudgingly crawled into bed. It just seems to be one of those songs that is easily identifiable. I occasionally hear it when oldies are played on the radio and I’m immediately transported back in time.
I believe the “Route 66” series started airing in 1960, but I’m not sure how many years the show ran. In the late 80’s I caught a few reruns but I only saw one or two episodes. My kids were little then and I was busy with them during the evenings. Recently, however, I purchased the 1st season’s episodes and found myself thoroughly enjoying them. It was about two young men traveling cross country in a cool corvette taking odd jobs. I don’t know the color of the car, as the show was filmed in black and white. They were in a different town or city each week and the drama of oridinary peoples everyday lives. I guess in my midlife I’m winding down as I find myself on the couch and on the back porch more.
My grown daughter was with us one weekend when we watched several episodes. She is doing graduate work in psychology, I asked her why was I enjoying these 50 year old shows so much. Here is her response:
“I think that a lot of the reason you enjoy your older TV shows and movies is that you attribute a lot of you fondest memories to entertainment during your growing up years. You told me about going to the drive-in during the early 1960’s and playing on the playground in front of the large screen. You mentioned seeing movies like the “Alamo”and “Sparticus” at the drive-in, as well as “Ben Hur,” “The Great Escape” and “The Longest Day” at the big screen theaters. You also were able to often go to the show by yourself and meet your friends there. Something kids are no longer able to do in today’s society. “Bonanza” was a family thing on Sunday nights as well as fun shows like “Gilligan’s Island.” Those classic movies and TV shows had a positive influence on you. You once told me about remembering your dad would read the Bible on Saturday nights while you watched “Flipper.” You were supposed to have your Sunday school lesson before watching Flipper. Good movies, good times, good memories. Movies and shows back then had less action and more character to them. Even the westerns had the good and bad guy element. I think it’s that character thing you like and it was fun.”
Route 66 is one of the more famous highways in America especially before the interstate highways were built. For me Route 66 brings back memories of a treasured time in my life. It’s a little after nine and guess what? Time for me to “hit the sack,” and someday I’d like to “hit the road,” on Route 66.
Factoids:
1.”(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66″, often rendered simply as “Route 66″, is a popular song and rythym and blues standard, composed in 1946 by American songwriter Bobby Troup.
2. “Route 66” was first recorded in 1946 by Nat King Cole, whose rendition became a classic. 
3. “One of the original federal routes, US 66 was established on November 11, 1926, though signs did not go up until the following year.[2] It originally ran from Chicago, Illinois, through Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California, before ending at Los Angeles for a total of 2,448 miles[3] (3,940 km).”
4. The only road with a Pulitzer Prize to it’s credit.
5. Route 66 was the first highway of such length to be paved from one end to the other. Earlier there were long stretches of dirt, or planks floating on sand. The road brought the nation to California – twice. Once in the 1930′s and again after World War II.
6. Route 66 is one of the most famous, if not THE most famous road in the United States.
7. Disney made the movie “Cars”, although Radiator Springs is a fictional town, the movie itself is centered around Route 66.
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