Maxine Rose Marshall (Day 24)

... rose comes from like a great aunt or something,

 died form breast cancer...

... ok, my happiest time with my family is

 probably on easter because we always have a big easter egg fight...

...when was the best year?...

-when we had the missionaries with us (laughs)...

...I got to videotape the missionaries engaging in that activity and they told me not to post it on facebook...

-Do you have those tapes?

-I do, yeah.

-Where are they?

Easter weekend. The blanket of gray clouds above hold back the sunlight, as the wind rushes along the Californian shore below. The Marshall family packs up their camp and heads inland to enjoy Eastern dinner with their friends. They pull up to to an older house, different from the others. Its walls are rounded adobe on the inside, and each of its doors has a different glass knob.  Warm greetings are exchanged, I'm sure, as they sit down to dinner. 

Meatloaf and mushy potatoes are served alongside over-cooked carrots,

I added to much butter, says the humble mother chef.

The Elders are there; their shiny black badges and pristine white shirts unharmed and untouched by the world. They are asked if they have any plans for later; they don't so they are invited to stay for the "easter egg thing" going on later. They stay. They keep their shoes on.

After dinner the smell of the meatloaf and carrots lingered and mingled with the retched scent of mixed fruit and aroma-therapy.

Father Marshall saunters over and places himself behind the coach. The hoard of ownerless children divides as they and their pajamaed legs scurry to different corners of the house. The voices stop all across the house. Its about to begin.

"Its hard to remember details," relates Maxine Marshall, "Its a really old house... squeaky wooden floors..."

And then the great exchange of brilliant, multi-colored easter eggs begins. Eggs, flying through the air, in a mad volley across the open air space. Yellow ones full of prunes crack against the walls. Red eggs stuffed with dead bugs shatter across the floor. The fight is brutal. The vicious children take full advantage of the fact that they can hurt their parents, and the parents don't hold back on the children, but all agree: the missionaries are the worst of all. One unlucky soldier attempts a sock slide across the floor dealing out eggs rapid fire against his mother, but it is folly as he slips out and his mom ends up on top of him on the ground, beating him up and down. War cries echo through the chambers as the girls flee to distant rooms. Mayhem is rife. 

Maxine grabs the camera, sick of the boys throwing too hard, and positions herself at a crossroads where she can see all entrances, and starts to film. She declares herself a neutral journalist but nobody coming around the corners waits for her to shout neutrality as they pummel her with eggs. Its dark outside 

The last eggs are thrown, some hit their target, others miss, they all find their way shattered on the floor, an honorable sacrifice of another easter tradition well kept. Large, long-lasting welts will be the reminder of this Easter, it is decided, as the two families and the missionaries sit down on the coach, sweaty from the household civil war. A movie starts. It might be Shrek. It plays.

-Hey! I sat on Jesus- exclaims one of the small boys, as he removes the picture of Jesus from beneath his bottom.

-Christian!

-I think thats my favorite memory of being with my family.

...Im really glad that i did that [filmed]  because they are able to remember the times that they had in that house, because they were pretty brief.... 

The family was forced to leave the house about two weeks later.

...its a really cool tradition...

...the boys always have the best time...