It was one of the times of the year when you knew it would likely happen.
Along with Christmas and summer vacations and the first day of school, Easter was one of those times when you could pretty well count on somebody having a camera.
Because without those occasions there might not be much of a record of the family at all.
Perhaps the earliest recorded Easter of my family is this one.
Taken sometime around 1944 in Midland, Texas, those kids are — from left to right — my aunt Trisha, my uncle Mike, my aunt Marianne, my uncle Jerry, my aunt Carol and my cousin Bobette. Oh, and the bunnies up front. Whose names were not recorded.
Fast forward a few years — as in probably 15 or so years — and you have this one.
From left to right, my cousin Barry, my brother Paul, my cousin Susan, my cousin Barbara, and my sister Kacy.
Add another year or so, around 1960, and I finally get into the picture:
At my grandparents’ farm in Virginia, around 1960, from left to right my cousin Susan, my brother Paul, my sister Kacy, my sister Diana and me.
Add a few more years and you have the Louisiana cousins joining in:
Front row: cousins Larry, Chris and Tony. Back row: Cousins Mark, Barry and Gary, sister Kacy and brother Paul, cousin Susan.
A few more years still, and my youngest siblings and cousins begin to show up:
Left to right: brother Warren, cousins Steven and Donna, brother Fred, cousin Tony, brother Bill.
Never everybody all at once, of course, and never everybody at all — there are a ton of cousins missing from all the photos.
But at least a partial record of a very large, wacky and wonderful family, through the lens of Easters past.