Lorraine Larocque

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We never had Easter egg hunts in church growing up. We were Baptists and that bunny didn’t die on the cross, did it? No, it did not! Our Easter baskets had chocolate crosses nestled in fake grass; I haven’t done the math, but I think from a square-inches perspective you get more chocolate from a cross than a bunny. So chalk one up for crucifixion, I guess.
Here for It; Or, How to Save Your Soul in America: Essays
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