From Redd’s journal, 1910: “Spent Easter Sunday with the family during our traditional brunch at the Wilson residence. While we prepared, some of the younger children embarked on a rousing egg hunt through the lawn. There would be no mess for the gardener—the kids were nothing if not thorough.
During the meal, my nephews Murdy and Charley stormed the table and piled their hardboiled discoveries onto the subtle green tablecloth. Among the eggs we had planted, the boys had found a natural marvel—a little blue robin’s egg. “My, how glorious,” somebody remarked, “and a wonder that it didn’t break.” That is, until some time later when Woodrow, not looking where he was going, smashed the egg to smithereens under foot.
It seems like the gardener would have a mess to clean up after all.”