I could have sworn I had a title for this

Happy Easter, the purely religious holiday. As I recall, the only Sunday you must attend the Catholic Church to remain a member in good standing is Easter. I love candy, especially chocolate, and hard-boiled eggs, but it's the promise of spring which is the best part. The Bunny is silly, and because Jesus was a Jew, the traditional ham seems inappropriate. About His rising from the dead, I guess you had to be there.

Although I exchanged several letters with my future wife, the longest pen-pal relationship I had was with a young lady whom I met as a youth on Easter. She had been visiting a family down the street, and I went over and talked to her for an hour or so before we exchanged addresses. I seem to remember a brief kiss. There shouldn't have been any reason why not; after all, I was in my nice Easter clothes. She was from a rural area of New York State, and her letters revealed a certain rustic naivete, but we corresponded for several years. I never entertained the thought of visiting her, and when she wrote she was marrying, I bade her a fond farewell and good luck. I regret I have forgotten her somewhat unusual nickname, much like I don't remember the name used by Lyndon, the college roommate of whom I spoke here earlier.