Well done, MC.

Growing up in the Scranton area, I have many warm, comforting memories of Holy Week. One of my earliest memories when I was 3 or 4 involved following my dad around the back yard as he did some yard work on Easter Saturday. It must have been one of the first sunny days of the Spring. When he finished the gardening, he brought me over to an area in the yard where we had three large rose bushes. He clipped several of the thorny limbs and twisted them, making a small crown of thorns, and told me how Jesus was crowned before his crucifixion. I remember marveling at the handiwork, thinking that my dad can make anything. During every subsequent Palm Sunday mass I've thought about this moment.

Also, a warm memory of this week is how my family would visit three churches every Holy Thursday evening for about 15 minutes. We'd often visit four or five churches and end the night with a late meal out somewhere, which wasa a big deal.