A recent conversation with several friends who are also lapsed Catholics got me thinking about Easter’s significance in my life. Why do I still celebrate it when I no longer attend Mass?
Ties to my childhood faith remain, although they have thinned and frayed. I’m at a loss to explain why I still feel that religious tug, but I do.
Some of the symbols associated with Easter have an even stronger pull: the natural world coming back to life in spring, daffodil and tulip bulbs blooming after lying dormant for months, and eggs representing new life. The idea of yearly rebirth and renewal resonates with me.
Maintaining an Easter tradition also matters to me, because it ties my small family to past generations.
Even though much of Easter’s religious meaning has faded for me, I feel a connection to my heritage and to the natural world. This Sunday my family will gather, eat a more elaborate meal than usual, and I’ll add a bouquet of spring flowers to the table. I won’t wear special Easter clothes
but our grandchildren might—mostly because it’s fun for their mothers to buy cute outfits. My granddaughters are too young to understand the idea of gathering pretty dyed eggs, so they’ll get small toys, and only the adults will get candy eggs.
Our celebration is not all past generations would have done, but it’s right for me.
I think holidays can be about both tradition and religious beliefs, and can also be about one or the other. So there’s nothing wrong with honoring the Easter tradition even if you no longer believe in the faith you were raised in. To each his/her own, I always say! And happy Easter, however you celebrate it!
During spring break 2024, we explored Hilton Head and Savanah. Southern sunshine made summer clothes the right choice for a couple of days, otherwise we wore jeans and layers of shirts. Spring break 2025 we hunkered down during a Midwestern winter storm that included freezing rain, a quarter to half inch of ice, snow and wind.
A small generator, water stored for at least two days without an electric well pump, battery-powered lights and our propane grill awaited a human emergency. Nothing could be done about ice coating trees. With each wind gust, the clacking of iced tree limbs created a loud, grim sound. As the rain changed into sleet then then heavy snow, the original ice threatened to take down anything delicate. Birch trees bent gracefully. Pine trees looked tortured. One froze to other trees before they all dipped to our driveway to solidify there.
A large oak fell, its branch canopy crushed a garden area of plants transplanted from my deceased mother-in-law’s home, rose bushes and other lovely perennials. Its heavy fall and bounce over the septic system startled the dog and me. He barked. I wished I could howl.
Other years forsythia buds are tightly closed on early April branches. Daffodils poke out of the ground and hellebores send out leaves. This year, for a few nights of spring break, we kept emergency kits near our beds and tried not to think about whether we’d be awakened by a tree busting through windows or crashing on the roof.
When an actual sunrise brought an end to additional layers, walking remained ill-advised as large twigs or even larger branches jettisoned down around the clock. Birds sang in away, safer places. For days, the sound of falling ice and breaking tree parts filled the outdoors. Two more trees behind our house gave up the struggle.
Ten miles away trees remained free of ice, but water covered farm fields. Ducks bobbed about as if everything was normal. On April Fool’s Day, the day for a variety of elections in Wisconsin, we needed to clean up messes many folks only knew because of television coverage. Iced treetops looked like diamond decorated holiday trees, but the sound of the melting and dropping branches didn’t stop from Saturday until later Tuesday.
My first spring ice storm was less dangerous than a tornado or wildfire whipped by winds, but a few days of stretched nerves does not make for a vacation. Add the unknowns of trade war tariffs and mid-term elections to 2026 spring break weather surprises and we’ll hold off on making plans.
I was sad to hear a book group friend say her 11-year old-granddaughter didn’t consider it a treat to go to a bookstore to choose a book—she doesn’t read books. I was slow to realize the books I’d been gifting my 10-year-old niece weren’t a hit. Not because I’d chosen boring stories but because she doesn’t enjoy reading. It saddens me they won’t have the pleasure of being immersed in the imaginary worlds I have so enjoyed.
Although it sounds counterintuitive, fiction presents truths through the lives of made-up people.
I’ve learned about worlds I wouldn’t have access to any other way. Through novels, I’ve entered the lives of a Black Texas Ranger, an 15th century Chinese physician, an escaped enslaved woman, a modern-day reporter in India, Korean deep-sea divers, and more. I’ve gained insight and empathy by seeing cultures beyond my own and feeling the dilemmas of people unlike me. Memoirs also offer me inspiration and perspective for my own life.
Recently, the disinterest in reading novels and the related inability to read whole books has been receiving attention. Several theories may explain the change.
That puzzles me, because TV and movies still engage us. With “Game of Thrones,” “Succession,” or “Slow Horses,” viewers enter into invented worlds and can track the plot and characters, so why not in novels and memoirs, whether paper or Kindle books? Perhaps nonreaders have lost the ability to imagine. With TV and movies, the visuals are supplied.
Shorter attention spans are also part of the problem, and students aren’t alone in this. Myriad distractions clamor for our attention and our culture serves up lots of information in short bits—texts, Instagram posts, 35- to 50-word news summaries. In 20 minutes, I might read a dozen short clips instead of one 3,000-word article. Constant interruptions have diminished my powers of concentration. I can still enjoy a 400-page novel, but these days, I get restless and impatient with longer novels.
I learned to love reading whole stories as a girl when there were far fewer distractions. At 8 years old, I draped myself across an upholstered chair and devoured Nancy Drew mysteries. By 14, it was Daphne duMaurier. Often, I wonder about the characters in novels I’m reading and am eager to find out what happens next.
I wish my niece, my friend’s granddaughter, and their peers could experience the gift of being immersed in good books. The joy of being transported to another time or culture. The hours of pleasure, escape, and knowledge.
I have an increasing number of friends — my age (very old) or a bit younger, who are “reading” recorded books. I always prefer a physical book (second, a book on my Kindle reader — usually from the library) to listening. But listening is also a skill and an alternative way of engaging with words. I wonder if the “kids” who don’t read would listen. I know that my 8 year old granddaughter already falls asleep listening to age-appropriate books…she has just started reading well enough that age appropriate “chapter books” are fun to read rather than challenging. We shall see…
I don’t want to live in a world without books! And it is very sad that many young people no longer like to read. They’re being raised on technology, and don’t have the patience or desire to read, I guess. But they’re missing out on something very special, and this doesn’t bode well for our future societies.
I worry too. The only impact I can think of is reading aloud to my granddaughters–not just toddler books but whole chapter books (if they’ll let me).
Bev Bachel
It’s odd….and often disconcerting…that after reading at least a book a week for my entire adult life (I started keeping annual “books read” lists back in 1982, when I was an English lit grad student), I find myself drawn to podcasts. The 20 to 30 to 50 minutes they typically require (even less if I listen to them on doublespeed), feels a better fit for my retirement lifestyle. I particularly appreciate that I can listen to them while cleaning, driving and working out.
That’s interesting! I also listen to podcasts, so reading + podcasts. One of my favorite is The Moth, so still stories.
Are yours more informative –akin to reading articles?
Bev Bachel
I had forgotten the Moth and just resubscribed. Some of the podcasts I listen to are informative/educational, others are entertaining. Am unsure why my reading has fallen off, do hope it’s only temporary.
I can’t imagine life without the escape of a good book. I agree that shorter attention spans are a robber of sorts. Humans invented labor-saving devices to create more leisure time, but in some respects, those devices are robbing us of true leisure.
I hate to think reading would disappear as a passtime!
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5 responses to “Easter Traditions Evolve”
I think holidays can be about both tradition and religious beliefs, and can also be about one or the other. So there’s nothing wrong with honoring the Easter tradition even if you no longer believe in the faith you were raised in. To each his/her own, I always say! And happy Easter, however you celebrate it!
Thank you! What a good perspective. Happy Easter to you and yours!
Happy Easter, Ellen! 🐇🪺🐥
Thanks! Happy Easter or Spring—whatever you may celebrate 🌷🌞
Thanks! Like you, I lean a bit towards spring!