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March 31, 2011


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Jenny Rowe

What I remember most about Easter as a child was that we always had to sit in front of Mother, between her knees, and let her roll our hair. Because we had to look nice on Easter Sunday. And she was always staying up late on Saturday night trying to finish making our little dresses. I thought it was awful back then, but now as I write this, tears come to my eyes and I remember how much I appreciated my mother.


I know what you mean. The year I decided that I wanted to wear my hair like Marcia Brady . . . oh dear. That was not a popular choice! But I did love the excitement of a new Easter dress:)

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I come from a long line of feisty Southern women—women with wit and wisdom, faith and strength.

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