The Furnace Street Gang loved Easter time. I mean, why shouldn’t we? First of all, a week’s vacation. And when the weather cooperated, baseball season opened up on that sliver of grass separating Furnace from Furnace Extension.

Our Yankee Stadium. Breakfast, ball, lunch, ball, supper, ball, home when the streetlights came on. No parents driving us to and fro, waiting worriedly for us to finish. We were on our own and loved it. Walked down Skinner Street precipice with the Urichs, Bobby Mihevc and Al Koziol. Back home with the same. Yukking it up, not a care in the world, enjoying penny candies (root beer barrels and black licorice and vanilla taffy suckers) purchased at Frederika’s “convenient” store. We communicated face to face, not to an inanimate object.

Secondly, the candy. Our moms loaded up those Easter baskets with chocolate cream or coconut filled eggs, marshmallow yellow peeps, multi-colored jellybeans, chocolate rabbits, the solid ones, not hollow pretenders. My mother threw in a handful of those favorite penny candies cited previously, for the hay of it.

Topping it all off were hard-boiled eggs that we dyed in the manner of a rainbow. A day or two after Easter, the gang would gather at the park for the annual Easter egg eating contest. After peeling, we’d shove as many as we could in our mouths. I recall vividly the time they came out faster than when they went in. Contest victor got a quarter.

Thirdly, the duds and dinner. Our parents were hard-working members of the middle class, both holding down jobs to make ends meet. My father was boss of the city street crew (public works) while mom slaved away behind a machine at Burrow’s Paper Mill. Despite the fact that they probably couldn’t afford it, every Easter meant new clothes. I couldn’t wait to show off that spiffy sport coat, matching slacks and a colorful tie.

Like my wife Kay, Vivian Van Slyke Lenarcic was a fashionista. Oh yeah-shoes and socks topped it all off. She and my sister DeeAnn got a new dress with all the trimmings, including bonnets and white gloves. Remember the lyrics in that old favorite, Easter Parade? “In her Easter bonnet with all the frills upon it.” The ladies in the city sure did take it literally. Pop bucked the tradition, content to wear an old suit which seemed to fit tighter and tighter each year. If you drove around the city on Easter morning, you’d see numerous families decked out in their finest, parading off to church or mass. Walking wasn’t a lost art back in the day.

As for vittles, Easter dinner consisted of a menu to be enjoyed only once a year. Everything was homemade, of course. Buns, scalloped taters, baked ham and kielbasa (dad’s favorite-consumed with neighbor Hilda Marosek’s homemade horse- radish which would bring tears to anyone’s eyes), cauliflower, buttered carrots and, for dessert, apple pie topped with fresh whipped cream. Other than Kay’s daily meals, ain’t tasted anything that good since. Later, around six or so, we’d gather again for the leftovers. Our widowed Aunt Loranna joined us. The meal and mirth, conversation and laughter, hours on end, made it all truly memorable.

My most lasting memories related to Easter’s religious traditions which stretched out for a month. As a kid, I wasn’t wild about Lent. I mean, having to give something up for that long? Mom wouldn’t let me get away with forsaking onions. Nice try. She knew that I hated them. So, she decided it’d be something I truly loved. Candy. I lasted two days-bought some black licorice at Frederika’s. Still feel guilty. Then came Good Friday when my sister and I were expected to sit still and be quiet from 12 to 3. Right. Me be quiet? Diane recently reminded me of how I did everything I could to make her laugh-facial contortions worked best. Guess who got in trouble? Still haven’t figured out why we older kids took such pleasure in getting our younger siblings in trouble.

I enjoyed Palm Sundays. Mom always brought a palm home to be openly displayed in the living room. But the day meant more to me for a different, more personal and secular reason. I always had an affinity for music. I started my trumpet lessons when I was 9. From then on, I practiced that horn daily and loved every second of it. Got to be fairly good, ultimately enrolling at Freddy State as a trumpet major. Anyway, I got to play a solo at a Palm Sunday service, receiving a nice ovation when I finished. We never forget those “special” moments, do we.

The Rev. Fred Thorne made Easter service a thing to behold. He had a great voice and presentation-congregation never fell asleep. His sermons always reminded us of Easter’s significance and encouraged us to live our lives as the Lord would have wanted us to. It seemed that the day was always blessed with an abundance of sunshine, and the rays filtering through the beautiful stained-glass window in the sanctuary only heightened the experience of it all. I almost forgot two things. The time my sister was baptized-can still hear her screams. She thought the pastor was drowning her. Secondly, Mary Thorne, pastor’s wife and our Sunday School teacher.

She set the stage for the service to come with her annual message-the importance of following Jesus’ admonition for us to serve our community in a charitable way. That message has resonated with me for over 70 years. And, finally, I could never forget the special hymns. First Baptist had a great choir, and with the congregation encouraged to chime in, the church was filled with joyful renditions of Up from the Cross He Arose, Old Rugged Cross, Jesus Christ Is Risen Today and Amazing Grace.

Those indeed were special days. I wish that they could magically reappear. I wish the camaraderie back then could replace today’s divisiveness; that efforts back then to lead lives respecting the feelings and beliefs of others could replace today’s bigotry and penchant for hatefulness; that people’s willingness in the past to forgive and forget could supplant today’s proclivity for revenge and retribution. The world in which I existed during Easter long ago was certainly not a perfect one, but it was a heck of a lot better than today’s.

Spring’s gentle breeze, a hopeful sign,

New life awakes, a sight divine.

Easter bells chime, a joyful sound,

Hope and peace on fertile ground.

Ray Lenarcic is a 1965 State University of New York at Fredonia graduate and is a resident of Herkimer.