My mother, the Catholic, would on this day every year tell her 7 little ducklings religious stories about this date. She was raised in Providence, R.I. amid a strong influence of old school Catholics and around the age of 27, she married my father and moved into the hollows of WV to birth and raise her brood. There wasn't a Catholic church nearby and this was in the day when marrying a Catholic was not looked upon kindly. It seems hard to believe in this day and age that it made this much of a difference but I also remember when JFK ran for president and his religion was a matter of major debate. A Catholic in the White House? Omg.
Catastrophic. Parents of religions different then the Catholic religion were adamant about their children marrying into Catholicism and on occasion shunned
I can only imagine what it must have been like for my mother, the citified girl moving into a home set in the hills of WV after living in a large city with mass transit, stores, beaches and bars within steps of her front door. I would have taken a look around, packed up my one child and ran screaming from that hollow with it's winding dusty road, isolated from community and family. It pays to check out your paramour.
Easter brings back memories of my mother and her story telling. She was a wonderful story teller and could command all 7 children to sit quietly and listen enthralled to her stories. I think this was the most Bible training I received as a child and for that I'm thankful.
I'm outta here to prepare for the arrival of the chef (the daughter), the hairdresser (getting my hair cut) and the kids (the egg hunters) and if you see me weeping while pushing a broom and mop around later this afternoon it will mean I failed to maintain my rule for today "Clean up you own damn mess".
Happy Easter one and all. It's a beautiful day here.