Holidays are for memories. And if April Fool's day signifies anything for me, it is a reminder of my dear, odd, steadfast and enduring grandparents, Aaron and Florence. They married on April 1 a bazillion years ago and celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary well before they died, in 2004 and 2005.
As a child, they were my rock and foundation when my own father and mother struggled in and out of marriage and parenting. What I wouldn't give for an hour of their company sometimes, I can't say....
UPDATE: For almost 40 years, my immediate family has gathered at my father's house to celebrate Easter. Our tradition is to come together over ham loaf, amish crackers or whatever my father, when alive, found fit to kill and cook over an open fire. Then we stand in a circle and pray, eat, then hike back through the glen to the Susquehanna river. It's a tradition that's lost much of its holy symbology but one that we value as a family. While some were sadly not present this year - a inexplicable, very unfortunate trend that commenced since a number of deaths in our family - we kept to the tradition and made it about half way to the river. A glorious day complete with a new baby, a meal outside, and brilliant community. It was also a great time to ask about some family history: my grandparents were married in 1934.
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