I have good memories of Easter from my childhood, but they don’t involve church. There would be eggs, and candy, of course, but for me the treat was the beach. We’d get up early, stop for breakfast, and drive out to Galveston for a day on the ocean. There was something innately right about choosing that day to reconnect with the water.

Over the past years I’ve made it a habit to do some sort of ritualized Easter penance by eating a vast number of Peeps in one sitting. This brings to mind some rather unpleasant connotations to resurrexit, but we’ll leave that where it is.