Growing up in a completely Catholic community in Connecticut, I hated the Church’s Easter ceremonies with the red hot passion of the sun. (guess who’s cranky today?
It was the clothes. The NEW clothes, the itchy clothes. It was a freaking Resurrection Fashion Show. Oh, and black “pat and leather” shoes, which much to my dismay I learned were really “Patent Leather” shoes. Imagine my supreme embarrassment. Even going home after Mass and looking for the Easter baskets my wonderful mother hid about the house was awful because I didn’t like candy of any kind.