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Show Do You Remember? . . . Ey MAUDE H. BENEDICT "For Christ is risen, the angels say On happy Easter morn!" Sunday school on Easter morning morn-ing the story of the resurrection told again in all its beauty. The angel rolling away the stone; Martha Mar-tha and Mary keeping vigil, weeping weep-ing as they sat through the dark hours after the crucifixion. The story always brings vivid mind pictures: the sad-faced Savior Sav-ior as he walked amongst the disciples, dis-ciples, entreating them to feel his hands, to convince them that he lived, in the flesh. The glory of the morning, birds dawned clear, mostly and "John-ny-Jump-Ups" were out in all their amethyst glory. Viewed from a distance, they made a fairy, rosy carpet, dappled with green. Can it be the seasons have shifted a little cock-eyed? Everything Every-thing else has, until looking back the things customary then and now are indeed widely different. And on Easter we see in memory mem-ory the little heads go bobbing along to some meeting place from which a picnic party is to start. Each little lady wearing a freshly starched and iron sunbonnet, each little gentleman a straw hat, or a tousled curly head. Like flowers singing, the tang of Springtime in the air; the colorful robes worn by the disciples; the long flowing white robe of the Savior; the whiteness of sheep grazing on the rolling hillsides all this comes back like a moving picture in memory. We children did not then appreciate appre-ciate the origin of Easter to us it was Easter, a time to be happy and go picnicking. We hid eggs for weeks before, buckets full of them, always "beating" mother to the nests, until she was so ex-asperted! ex-asperted! Eggs were scarce for breakfast during that time, and often not an egg to be found by mother to put in a cake or pie. We stored eggs right up to Easter morning. And Easter in those days was always a lovely, warm day. We were not allowed to go Eas-tering Eas-tering on Sunday, either; we went on Saturday, and sometimes under the supervision of a Primary teacher. Some of the mothers often went along, as gaily as the children. child-ren. The mornings of the picnic themselves, the pink, blue, yellow, green, and white bonnets made a dancing parade of youth and beauty. The Easter baskets were indeed different so vastly different that by comparison we did not have Easter baskets! Our picnic was carried in a tin lard pail the eggs were the same, inside at least, but the outside was, as we stated before, be-fore, different. We wrapped the eggs in crepe paper or piece of cloth, bunting, or anything that would stain them. And some of them came out of the dye bath a thing of beauty, miraculously speckled, striped or shaded, and even stenciled, through no artistry of our own! The fun we had packing a dozen or so colored eggs, and later up at the Big Hollow, hiding and finding them. Big Hollow has been the picnic grounds for children for more than half a century. It was there we found the lovely snowdrops snow-drops and the yellow violets on Easter. We raced up and down the hills, stuffed ourselves with eggs and other picnic, until the sun began to say goodnight, and .sterling character of their parents. par-ents. These family traits are evident evi-dent even in the second generation. genera-tion. Several of them were talented readers and all of them are prominent prom-inent and popular in Springville , or anywhere they live. I The family name makes one wonder how nearly related they are to William Jennings Bryan. , Anyway, this much is certain j they are all quite eloquent! Oh, oh! Time is up! (Do you remember? like her mother's, and is remem- bered as being very beautiful) and Beama, the youngest, who now lives in Nebraska. We remember Mrs. Bryan as a Primary teacher in the First ward. Her lovely personality, her jolly good nature, and her always neat and becoming clothes and "hairdo" "hair-do" are remembered. She was a beautiful woman, whose children adored her. We recall Jim Bryan, the only son, whose ready wit made him the life of a party. He used to chum with . Charley (Chuck) Daley, Milton Brown, and their gang. We remember the father, fa-ther, John Bryan, who knew more funny stories than anyone, and every occasion or remark reminded remind-ed him of another story. In his later years he lost both legs above the knees because 'of an illness, but even after this he joked and cheered those about him. Courage plus, we should say! He lived for a numbers of years in Hershey, thoughts of home came rushing. We wonder how many mothers have time to go picnicking with the children now! We are too busy, these days, to do some of the things that on looking back to our own. childhood we love so to remember. "Do You Remember" would not be complete without mention of some of Springville's townspeo pie. So today we are remembering remember-ing with love and appreciation Mr. and Mrs. John Bryan, grandparents grandpar-ents of your editor, Manila Bird Brown. We believe we are right in saying Mrs. Bryan's name was Emma; her husband's, John. Their children were Olive, May Bryan Bird, Jim, Minerva B. Weight, Emma B. Kennedy (the black sheep of the family because she of all the family had black hair JNeb., where ne was superintendent of a sugar company. John Bryan had many friends, and was much beloved by his family. We have often featured the Bryan Bry-an family as being one of unusual harmony; a place where humor played an important part in the daily life. Why? Because the whole family inherited much of the fun-loving gay humor and |