Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

It’s Easter Sunday; and, when I was a child, the day evoked a variety of emotions. Since I attended Catholic school, there was great emphasis on the religious importance of the day. In fact, we were taught that it was the most important day in the liturgical calendar, even when we as children preferred Christmas. To this end, the students at St. Louis Cathedral School, where I attended, participated in the Good Friday and Easter Sunday rituals. So I grew up knowing a “Pax Vobiscum” when I saw one.

I remember other things too. My mother, a single parent in the days when they were truly pioneers, always hid an Easter basket for me. Even when money was tight. I recall finding it behind the couch one year, only I found it a week early. She also made sure I had a new outfit, replete with hat and white gloves; because nobody went to church on Easter Sunday without them. We also colored hard-boiled eggs; but unlike today Mother never hid them. It was the actual coloring that was the fun. Of course, we then had to eat the eggs over the next couple weeks; and I remember more than one egg salad sandwich in my lunchbox.

Today I’m not much of a churchgoer, but I took a moment to remember how it was as a child and note the differences between then and now. One thing is for sure, I was a lot less aware of the world-at-large back then. It was strictly about my Mother and me. Now I see my celebration in a larger context.

For instance, the Terri Shiavo case has had center stage for sometime. I’m hopeful she will not die today because I do not like the idea of her death being linked to Easter. And, while she moves closer to the end of her life, college basketball moves closer to the end of the NCAA tournament. I don’t mean to equate the two; I merely list what is in the news these days. And, with both of these stories, the war in Iraq had temporarily been moved to the second page.

Earl and I had Easter brunch with those on his side. As a surprise his daughter, Adaire, had purchased Easter baskets for each couple in attendance. Earl’s and mine included photographs of a recent vacation with his daughter and her husband as well as enough candy to provide a sugar high for the next month. It was touching, because in spite of the world-at-large, she returned to the primal emotions I remember in my youth. Hey, Adaire, thanks.