The 24 Seven: Death, Then Birth
On the joy of contradictions and the blasé of outbursts
When I was growing up, my Dad would tell us that every Good Friday it’s sunny outside. And as long as I can remember, that’s been so. As I start writing this on Good Friday, 2025, it is sunny outside here in the suburbs of Washington.
To see Easter through a child’s eyes is to begin to understand some of the great contra…
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