Isms: Views on life in rural America

Easter takes me back to childhood holidays at our grandparents’ farm, where we gathered with cousins for a weekend full of tradition.

Some of us would rise before dawn for sunrise service, either at the church in Tilden or out in Ritter’s pasture. We’d return in time to change into our brand-new Easter outfits—flowery dresses, pastel-ribboned hats, white gloves and shiny patent-leather shoes—before heading back to town for church.

After the service, we’d return to the farm for a feast, then trade our fancy clothes for jeans and sneakers for the egg hunt. Aunts and uncles hid plastic eggs acros...