An Easter egg hunt for the ages

I hard-boiled some eggs the other day, and I guess the proximity to Easter brought back some memories of a recreation council Easter egg hunt that went terribly wrong.

Travel with me to the late 1970s, when the Bengies-Chase Recreation Council’s annual Easter egg hunt was a pretty big deal. It was held at Seneca Elementary School and attracted a huge crowd — more than 100 kids in each of about five age groups.

I spent most of my college years working as a part-time rec leader for the Baltimore County Department of Recreation and Parks. You name it and I did it: I lined baseball, softball and soccer fields, ran drop-ins and after-school programs, was a summer playground leader, I set up chairs for dance recitals, cleaned up vomit, cradled and consoled crying kids, administered first aid and sat on curbs with kids whose parents were a “little late.” I’m Facebook friends with a lot of the “kids” from the best roller skating program ever.

The day of the egg hunt, I arrived at Seneca at the crack of dawn (or so it felt to a 20-year-old) to start setting up and organizing for the oncoming crowd. The rec center supervisor (and my boss) was Kathy Tully. She handed me a cup of coffee and we got to work. Registration tables needed to be set up, bathrooms needed to be opened and inspected, the eggs had to be “hidden,” the Easter Bunny had to be greeted and hidden for her big entrance, the bullhorn needed to be tested.

After most of the more mundane tasks had been completed, a crew of volunteers started hiding eggs. While there were a few nooks and crannies in which to tuck eggs, hiding eggs basically meant rolling them out across a roped-off grassy area.

So with that mental picture in mind, time-travel again with me to the previous week. As hard as it is now to believe, back in the day most public egg hunts used real eggs. That’s right — the real McCoy, bought by the pallet (I exaggerate slightly) at the local grocery store.

Just a couple of miles from Seneca Elementary was the Bengies-Chase Community Building. It was a former two-room Black schoolhouse that was preserved and cherished as a community hub. At a renovation ribbon-cutting much later in my full-time recreation career, I observed in my comments how appropriate it was that a building that once stood to keep people apart now stood to bring them together.

The building housed the council’s community office and also was home to a variety of programs, including Tot Fun Center, tap and ballet and two longstanding Golden Age clubs. 

Those Golden Age clubs played a vital tole in the egg hunt. Members hardboiled and dyed the hundreds and hundreds of eggs for the big day. The community center had a pretty big kitchen with a huge commercial-grade stove. The seniors would come in every day of hunt week, hunker down in that kitchen and get to work. Boil the eggs, cool them, dye them, repack them in the original cartons and refrigerate them.

The seniors loved their role in the annual event and they looked forward to contributing each year. It was a fine-tuned machine, a choreographed production of volunteers carrying out their assigned tasks.

Or so we thought.

Travel forward again now to the morning of the hunt. The landscape of the school campus has been transformed, the parking lot is filling early with families who don’t care they’ve arrived an hour early with hyped-up kids they expect us to entertain. Volunteers grab armloads of egg cartons and head out to set up the various age-group areas.

I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but sometime during the hiding process, a volunteer who accidentally dropped an egg discovered it was raw. We tested every egg in that carton and all were raw. Beautifully dyed but nonetheless raw. We threw that carton away and hoped and prayed that it was an isolated incident.

It was not.

Pretty soon, volunteers all across the hunt area were reporting raw eggs. After a quick meeting of core organizers, we decided we would carry on with the hunt, announce before hand that eggs might be raw and if eggs broke after kids found them, we’d count the shells so they got credit for all the eggs they found.

The hunt went on as planned, many more raw eggs were found and counting eggs was a messy task. The Easter Bunny made her appearance, photos were taken, prizes were distributed, crowds dispersed, cleanup commenced.

Raw eggs aside, the hunt was a success. Hundreds of community children had a blast, area volunteers turned out on a Saturday to serve their community and they earned their pay in the currency of smiles, giggles and hugs.

A gentle investigation the following week uncovered a not-so-surprising reason for so many raw eggs escaping the boiling process. The problem was traced to one particular day when there were literally too many cooks in the kitchen. Someone would put a pot of eggs on the stove, walk away and someone else would walk in, take that pot off and put a new pot on. The eggs were extremely clean but no less raw. Looking back it seems strange that no raw eggs were discovered during the dying process because they get banged around quite a bit. Who knows? Maybe there was a coverup??

When I think about it, the raw eggs perhaps served a purpose. Many special events just blend into one another — they tend to be the same version, year after year. Maybe a new element gets added from time to time, but the formula remains the same and they get carried out almost by muscle memory.

Thanks to the raw eggs, maybe folks still think or talk about this particular hunt from time to time, as I do.

But we started using plastic eggs the following year. The Golden Age Club members gladly embraced the task of stuffing the plastic orbs with goodies and the hunt with multi-generational involvement carried on.

The characters and other fun of March Madness

March Madness is underway. For the one or two of you who need the explanation, MM is the trademarked named of the annual NCAA basketball tournament (and is finally able to be applied to the women’s tourney as well). March Madness travels into April, but that’s a whole different story.

For the first time in a while, I actually filled out a bracket this year. I’m having a friendly competition with my friend Jody. No money involved, no prize; just a reason to pay attention to all the games. I’m the “commissioner” of our little competition, so I get all nerdy tracking the games, recording scores and keeping track of our individual wins. At the end of the Round of 64, we were tied with the identical score of 22 (one point for each win). After the Round of 32, I hold a slight cumulative edge at 30-29. In other words, neither one of us is doing well.

But as with most sporting competitions, the athletic contests themselves almost take a back seat to the characters that blossom in the background.

Who doesn’t remember Sister Jean, who became synonymous with the Loyola University Chicago? The nun, who held many professional roles on the campus, including assistant dean and academic advisor, attached herself to the men’s and women’s basketball teams in 1994, according to a university website timeline. She served as academic advisor and worked with student-athletes to keep their grades up and remain athletically eligible. She dubbed herself the “Booster Shooter.” In 1996, she became the official team chaplain for the men’s team.

Sister Jean became a ubiquitous presence at NCAA tournaments and was soon a national treasure. She died last year at the age of 106.

Sister Jean was honored with her own bobblehead. Photo Loyola website

Already this year, the Miami (Ohio) men’s swim team has endeared itself to the nation, as have the student radio broadcasters of High Point University. 

The swimmers made quite a splash (you knew I had to go there) when they stormed the arena aisle to camp out behind the hoop, with the goal of distracting opposing free-throw shooters. In a really tight play-in game, the Speedo-garbed guys jumped up and down and waved their arms to distract the shooter.

The Miami of Ohio swimmers are big supporters of the basketball team.

The distraction was successful in a critical moment and the Redhawks hung on to defeat Southern Methodist University to notch their first-ever NCAA tourney win. They lost to Tennessee by 22 points in the Round of 64, but school history was made.

The boys of water first started expressing their support of the hoopsters in January, according to online reports.

I say the swimmers should get an official assist in the scorebook.

High Point University, described by clueless network broadcasters as a "small Methodist school," was the decided underdog as a 12-seed, going up against No. 5 seed Wisconsin of the Big 10 conference. I’m sure most pundits — and bettors — expected High Point to get blown away, but the plucky Panthers more than held their own against the Badgers. Down by as many as 10 points, the Panthers battled back on the back of some hot three-point shooting and the team won by a point, 83-82, in the last few seconds of the game.

But while the players were doing their job on the court, student broadcasters Jimmy Rosselli and Griffin Wright were doing their thing on the sidelines. As the team made its way down the court in the contest’s waning seconds, the two announcers called the action with professionalism. But when backup Chase Johnston delivered a layup that put their team up by a point, the two young men went nuts and their reaction went viral. They have been interviewed by a variety of media outlets, including Fox News, Sports Illustrated and Yahoo Sports.

Johnston made some personal history with the game-winning layup. It was the first two-point bucket of the season for the three-point specialist.

I’m sure High Point’s victory broke an awful lot of brackets (including my friendly opponent’s).

My favorite image so far is video footage of Prairie View A&M’s Hassane Diallo staring up at Florida’s Olivier Rioux, who measures up at 7’9”. Diallo, who at 6’8” is probably accustomed to being the tallest person in the room, literally cranes his neck to look up at Rioux’s face. In almost comical fashion, Diallo gives Rioux a nearly head-to-toe glance, as if to say, “Is this guy for real?”

Rioux later dunked a ball after barely leaving the floor. It looked like a two-inch vertical jump was all it took.

Betting and other side activities and competitions have branched out from the tourney. Folks will bet on or rank anything, including school mascots.

Sports Illustrated recently published an article ranking the mascots of all of this year’s tourney teams. The. Clemson Tiger was rated the No. 65 mascot (three participating teams were listed in another ranking as having no mascots at all.) Apparently, according to the accompanying blurb, the tiger, for whatever reason, has occupied the mascot basement for several years. 

Iowa’s Herky the Hawk is ranked 54th, with critics thinking he needs to smile more. Villanova’s Will D. Cat is no. 47 and TCU’s Superfrog is no. 21. Missouri’s Truman the Tiger sits at no. 20, with a snarky note to Clemson saying “these are tigers done right.” Ohio State’s Brutus Buckeye is no. 11, while Akron’s Zippy the kangaroo is the bridesmaid at no.2. You can read the article to see what SI thinks is the tourney’s best mascot.

St. John's University's Johnny Thunderbird.

In full disclosure, there are many online mascot rankings, with vastly different results. I’d guess there’s more than a little personal bias in such “rankings.” For example, Yahoo Sports published a list that would make you think the two entities were writing about the proverbial apples and oranges, the differences are so great.

Finally, because this post could go on forever, I’ll share with you a compilation of some of the most unusual names of this year’s players: Solo Ball (UConn), Chandler Bing (Vanderbilt), Ben Humrichous  (Illinois), Michelangelo Oberti (Penn), Penn’s TJ Power, forward, (ha ha! Get it?), Poohpha Warakulnukroh (UCF), Federico Federico (Texas A&M) and Oluwabukola “Bukky” Oboye, Santa Clara.

PA announcers have probably been rehearsing them for days.

Go Chandler!

And go Duke, for the sake of my bracket!

Do be a Becorn

I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I’m having serious trouble coping with the current events of our country and the world. I find myself in an emotional condition that is totally new to me — seriously pent up anger, hatred, disbelief, frustration and incredulity are consuming me.

I just can’t any more with the political landscape of these less than united states, and I have found myself enjoying guilty pleasures provided by the sweet creativity of others.

So I’m taking on the task of sharing these sweet discoveries with you, because I’m sure I’m not the only one suffering from the catastrophic news of the minute.

Today, I’m introducing David M. Bird, artist and creator of Becorns. 

Photo credit: David M. Bird Facebook page

“Becorns are characters made from acorns and sticks, then photographed in the wild with real animals,” Bird states on his Facebook page. “The process usually involves a study of animal behavior, bird seed, and a lot of patience.”

I’m thinking patience doesn’t even begin to describe the work of this man who has brought so much pleasure and enjoyment into my life. The characters themselves are thoughtfully designed, painstakingly assembled and lovingly stored when not tasked with an outdoor assignment.

He surveys his property for the exact right spot for a scenario he has planned, he creates a drawing of the scene he hopes to capture photographically, he sets the scene up and then camps out with the patience of a monk to capture the desired image.

Photo credit: David M. Bird Facebook page

Anyone who has ever attempted nature photography knows it is a game of hurry up and wait. It is a lonely, mostly thankless task that involves early morning and late night treks into wilderness areas, with no promise of return on time investment. For every single image that a photographer puts forth for public consumption, there are probably a thousand others that never see the light of day. My friend Kevin Moore, a well-known street and nature photographer, says he often depends on the photographic technique known as “spray and pray.” Roughly, that translates to quickly shooting a bunch of frames and praying there’s one good one. The great shot of the eagle in flight, with a perfect wing-spread, is not a one-and-done lucky shot. It is the result of squatting in the woods for hours, in all weather conditions, hoping to spot an eagle, let alone getting a decent shot.

So with that background, I pay homage to the efforts of the Becorn creator. Bird is at once an artist, a builder, a costume designer, a carver, a scriptwriter, a director, a set designer, a photographer and editor.

And after all the planning, building and shooting, he shares his work with us. I have spent more hours than I care to admit with the likes of the Jon Jon brothers, GoGo, Lord Gourdon, Kipling and a host of other characters. The Becorns are guards and protectors, they are companions and witnesses and sometimes they are hosts, offering seeds or berries to birds and small woodland creatures. I’ve sadly watched one be torn apart by a squirrel, but they are made of acorns, after all.

On top of the great content, Bird's narration on each video is a medicine all of its own. His soothing voice is the icing on top of the multi-layered video cakes he serves. He is indeed just what this nation's collective physician called for.

I don’t want to give too much away. I encourage you to visit David M. Bird’s Facebook page and immerse yourself in the adventures of the mighty Becorns.

The little creatures are an innocent and benevolent distraction from the evening news!

Enjoy!

End of an (extremely generous) era

In this huge societal sea of inflation we find ourselves, struggling to stay afloat, there has been a island of respite, an oasis of hospitality, throwing its doors open to all, offering inflation-proof deals so that all could maintain some semblance of a social life.

That island of hospitality is known formally as Red Brick Station but informally has been a Cheers of sorts to many over the 29 years it has existed. While many bars claim to be that bar where everyone knows your name, RBS is one of those that most closely resembles that philosophy, in my humble experience.

I say that RBS has been a sea of respite because while the prices of pretty much everything have skyrocketed in the past several years — to say nothing of the nearly 30 years that Red Brick has been around — the bar has been famous for its $1 beer Tuesdays.

Photo credit: Red Brick Station

Now here’s an important thing to know about Red Brick. It’s a true brew pub — one of the first in the state. Owner Bill Blocher was crafting his own beer and serving it in his pub before the term craft brewery was coined (or so it seems). So, in exchange for those one-dollar bills slid across the bar, customers received a pint of GOOD beer. I’m not talking Natty Bo here (no offense to Natty Bo drinkers, but it’s pretty bad beer).

Red Brick’s everyday beers — Daily Crisis, Something Red and Avenue Ale, for example — could be had for a buck each and seasonal specials were available for two bucks. Somewhere along the line, seasonal brews were upped to $3 but the line was held on the main character beers.

I first discovered Red Brick’s bargain beers around 1999. I had taken a huge pay cut to leave local government for a job in community journalism, and my colleague Christina Radice and I started going because that’s what a couple of broke reporters could afford. Those bar outings became a weekly tradition until Christina left the paper and I was forced to venture out on my own.

This past Monday, the restaurant posted an almost apologetic message on Facebook that invited customers to come in the next day for the final $1 beer Tuesday and announced that $2 beer Tuesdays would begin March 3.

My only shock about the price increase is that it didn’t happen at least 10 years ago. I worked in the restaurant business in the 1990s and 2000s. I saw beer prices go up many times over those years and then saw many more increases come over many years as a customer. Throughout all the industry and economic changes, Bill Blocher held the line, took the loss and continued in his role as the benevolent host.

And the bargains weren’t held to beverages only. A variety of food specials offer less expensive ways to dine out, including half-price burgers on Mondays and a fish and chips meal on Thursdays that includes fries or cole slaw and a beverage.

But perhaps the biggest draw of Red Brick is that it’s a warm, friendly place to go. There are longterm staff members who really do remember your name and what you drink. It’s a fun, friendly place where you can talk to the person on the bar stool next to you or across the bar. Regulars get to know each other, and customers and staff alike fret when they notice a regular hasn’t been in for a while. The restaurant sits on the corner of its block on The Avenue in White Marsh. There’s outdoor seating on a patio that opens to a shopping center-wide entertainment space where concerts are held in warmer months and an ice rink forms during the winter months.

It’s a festive place to see and be seen, as the saying goes; a place where everybody really does know your name — but only if you want them to.

And did I mention you can get good beer for $2 on Tuesdays??

See you there!