Once upon a time in 1937, a family with one girl and three boys started finding candy on Easter Mountain that was nestled deep in Zion National Park.
Every year that family went back to find candy.
Every year there was candy.
After many years, the kids all grew up.
They got married.
They had kids.
Much had changed,
but Easter Mountain did not.
Those children brought their children.
Then their children brought their children.
Generation after generation kept showing up for an Easter Egg Hunt.
When the Mom and Dad passed away, the children and their children and their children
still carried on the tradition.
Now the tradition has morphed.
My uncle now hosts a breakfast and an egg hunt.
On Saturday, we went to my cousins' house to carry on the tradition.
Different location, but same traditions.
As cousins we always get a good laugh that none of us like jelly beans
and attribute it to the fact that, in our day,
the Easter Bunny would scatter them all over Easter Mountain.
We'd try to de-sand them,
but there was always a bit of grit mixed in.
|My cousin lives on an acre and has pigs and handcarts to entertain.|
|Two Old Guys on a Bench|
|Social Video Gaming|
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Children are scared and slightly scarred, but bonded all at the same time.
And now as a result, Stafford will not go down the hall alone.