Easter makes me think of eggs, of course, and how my dad avoided them like the plague. He feared having a high cholesterol level. Recent studies have debunked many of the previous reported links between egg consumption and high cholesterol, but when I was growing up in the 1970s-1980s, it was a big health focus.
As I got a little bit older and a tiny bit wiser, I thought it was strange that my dad would worry so much about eating one measly egg but smoked a pack or more of cigarettes each day. Surely the coffin nails would kill him via lung cancer before he developed heart disease.
We were both wrong. Despite the decades of smoking and the decades of egg aversion, Alzheimer’s claimed my dad’s life.
It made me think about how often our fears are misguided. We worry about x, when it’s really y that’s getting ready to do harm.
Fear is a valuable self-preservation tool, but it can also hold us back from our potential.
With both dementia and cancer prevalent in my family, I do think about what I eat and other lifestyle choices probably more than the average person.
But I also know I could get hit by a bus on my way to work.
There’s a balance there somewhere, everything in moderation, as the saying goes.
At least I’m going to enjoy my eggs.
Easter makes me reflect on pleasant childhood memories. I wasn’t big on dressing up, but I guess Mom managed to finagle a dress on me for some Easter photos. I’m glad that she did, because I do love this photo.
Easter makes me think of lovely springtime weather, and plastic eggs filled with jelly beans. I can still remember the scent they had. I remember racing through grass looking for hidden eggs at hunts at the local park.
Happy Easter for those who celebrate, both religious and secular versions of the holiday. I know that this is a holiday of hope and renewal for many. Those are two concepts we don’t often associate with Alzheimer’s and dementia. But as caregivers and family members of those with dementia, we need all of the hope we can muster.
I remember going on a few Easter egg hunts as a kid. I believe we usually went to the one at the neighborhood park and I think we went to a hunt at the shopping mall one year. Dad didn’t mind taking us to these kiddie events, though he always lurked far away from the festivities, smoking behind a tree patiently. As a kid perhaps I would have preferred a more hands-on father who became excited about plastic eggs and jelly beans and chocolate bunnies, but as an adult, I totally understand his indifference. At least Mom was there with enough enthusiasm for the both of them.
I’ve written previously about our humble but pleasant Easter family traditions but I also remember Easter egg hunts in our apartment. Dad would be roped into helping, though I doubt he put much effort into it, which was a bonus for me! To be fair, it was pretty difficult to hide anything in our small living quarters, but Mom could get pretty creative. I remember enjoying these at-home Easter egg hunts even more than the public ones. (Well let’s face it, since I was an only child I had no competition at home!)
I don’t have any bad memories of Easter. The holiday just floated by in a sweet haze.