My dad's favorite holiday was Easter.  It was not entirely for religious purposes that my dad loved this holiday.  In fact, I never really realized that it was his favorite until the year I turned 15.  Since my birthday is the last day of March, Easter occasionally falls on my birthday.  Again, it's not why my dad favored the holiday, but as I grew up, I began to anticipate celebrating Easter because it was sometimes near my birthday, but more so because my father loved the holiday. 
    For my dad, Easter was about the secular traditions that came with the holiday.  He loved to dye Easter eggs and make what he called "cascarones".  Those were the dyed eggshells that he filled with tissue paper confetti that could then be slammed on someone's head.  But first, you had to find them. That tradition brought my dad alot of favorite memories when he was a kid since he was somewhat the practical joker.  My dad could be described as goof or one who marched to a different drummer, so any chance to have fun and break the rules made for a good memory for Dad.  He just loved a good Easter egg hunt and then breaking the cascarones on someone's head..


    When my brother and I were little, he tried to pass along his love for hunting for the "cascarones".  Some years, we had to make do with just dyed hard-boiled eggs because we hadn't saved up the empty eggshells. But either way, my dad loved to set up the table to dye the eggs with my brother and me.  And then, he would go out into the yard and hide them.  He relished watching me and my younger brother, Ernesto rummaging around the yard looking for his hidden treasures. 
    As we grew older, the thrill of the hunt faded for me and my brother.  The idea of hunting for hard-boiled eggs that had been sitting outside turned my stomach as they were not my favorite snack.  Chocolate held a bigger draw.  Plus, it just seemed so juvenile to be out looking for hidden eggs. That was for little kids who still believed in the Easter Bunny. We were getting much to big for that.  So as things go, my brother and I told my dad in so many words, "forget it.  We are not wasting our time looking for stupid eggs." Dad never listened and every Easter, he would dye the eggs anyway and and hide them outside.
    When I was 15, I decided that I was done with that stupid tradition.  I remember telling Dad, enough is enough.  I refuse to go out and look for eggs.  They are icky and I'm too old to be looking for Easter eggs.  My dad quietly continued to dye the eggs by himself the day before Easter and said fine, if that's how you feel, no problem.
    I'll never forget that Easter Sunday.  I had slept in a little and so had my brother.  Dad was sitting in the living room.  When we were both up, he announced that he had once again hidden the eggs outside.  I looked at my brother and then at Dad and reminded him that we were both too old to go looking for Easter eggs and he was wasting his time.  He better go outside and collect the eggs before they all turned rotten.  
    Dad said, "Fine.  But I just want you to know, that I hid 15 eggs outside.  Each egg has a number on it, from 1 to 15.  The number corresponds to a dollar amount, so the egg with a 1 is worth a dollar, the one with a 15 on it is worth $15.00.  I am going to invite the neighbor kids to go look for the eggs and I'll pay them instead."
    My brother and I looked at each other and we were out that door so fast to look for those stupid eggs.  I know that was my Dad's happiest Easter because we were outside looking for those damn eggs for over two hours, while he sat on the porch smiling the entire time.  He had created a new tradition, one in which my brother and I were happy to participate in for a few more years.