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photo of giant empty cross overlooking Huntsville Alabama


Hard boil my eggs

Color them

Don’t hunt them

Peel them

And eat every last one

“I can eat fifty eggs!”

tom tenbrunsel

Poet Laureate of Easter

Author’s Note: I attended the longest Mass ever at St. Eugene’s in Asheville. It was overflowing with fine people and children abound. My wife and I were the minority by far. The ceremony was in English and Spanish. Hordes of people were baptized and confirmed. Each received an approving welcoming round-of-applause from so far back in the overflow rooms it took two big screen TVs. There were nine readings, hymns and the sermon was in both languages. When the plate was passed crumpled one dollar bills were freely offered from hard working people. I was humbled. It was three hours of total celebration. It was the true meaning of Easter. People knelt on hardwood floors as the priest announced “HE IS RISEN!” We were blessed. Then after a recessional of over 200 cars parked everywhere you could park a car and then some, I went home and ate my fifty eggs. Reminding me of which came first, the chicken or the egg, “Cool Hand Luke” or God. Life is not a movie. Live it!

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