In 1959, Davy's sisters and brother were 13, 15 and 17. He wasn't even 6 years old, yet.
Easter morning, his mom and dad suggested the older kids hide eggs in the front yard to buy the family a little quiet time later when Davy would awaken and could jolt the neighborhood--instead of the house--with 80 million megawatts of his predictably high-strung excitement.
He flew outta bed and here he came yelling down the hallway bursting into the living room with jet-winged arms, wide-eyed and squealing to see an over-filled basket only to rocket out and slam the front door once his siblings had pointed to the front yard which held hidden plastic eggs encasing treasure fit for a greedy pirate.
After an hour and oddly silent outdoors, Davy's mom wondered aloud about her rascal's whereabouts and the house emptied like firefighters responding to a 3-alarm search.
MaryFran heard something from the direction of the concrete slabbed driveway and peeked around the corner to see her little son...knelt-down, butt-on-heels...beside the family's behemoth '56 Buick Special, only two plastic eggs beside him, as the young boy giggled at funny faces made and distorted by curves in the car's massive chrome bumpers as he moved his head to and fro, because, isn't that why they were so shiny?
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