By Barbara Latta
When I was a child (many moons ago), Easter always meant I was getting a new dress, gloves and a hat. My photographer dad was always ready with a camera and many pictures exist of my brothers and I posing in our new duds. One year my skull was adorned with a flat, pink dinner-plate-looking basket that would not stay on my head. I still remember the struggle I had to keep the millinery from blowing away.