On Holy Saturday (called “Great [as in, big, important] Saturday”), Poles (and others in Eastern Europe) head to the village or neighborhood church to have baskets filled with food blessed.
Usually, the contents are some of the main ingredients of the Easter morning breakfast: eggs, sausage, etc.
In the States, we’ve always sought out churches that have this tradition. And it’s almost exclusively Poles who attend.
Today was no different. We were different, though: K and L both put on their finest Polish Highlander outfits for the service.
We had a brief photo session before the blessing. The shots with K were easy enough, but it was tough to get the Girl to sit for a moment for an individual picture.
She kept wanting to go dance on the manhole cover.
Before long, our friends had arrived, which meant the Girl’s friends had arrived: everyone was thrilled.
A group picture followed, with everyone seeming to forget that we were using digital cameras: “Here, take one with mine!” “Get one with mine next!”
Before leaving, one of L’s friends had some words of wisdom to share. We’re not quite sure what he said, but it must not have been pleasant: the Girl was fussy and whiny for much of the afternoon.
She wasn’t the only one getting advice.
On returning home, K took the basket out for some pictures,
and I, with a cigar, Guinness, and Drive By Truckers in my ears while smoking meat in our barrel/smoker, felt positively conflicted.
