April 1990: A week after Easter, the basket's largely depleted - tulle bedding (my mother having declared Easter grass tacky, perhaps her worst epithet, reserved for such atrocities as colored Christmas lights, My Little Ponies, and being called "mom" instead of "mama") squashed and chocolate-smudged. Jellybean count: one red and one green (lime and cherry being held in high esteem), a couple of purple (okay, but redolent of Dimetapp), and about 17 black (the dreaded black…