So much for “Connor-Jeans”

“So tell us about him; you say enough about my father.”
So says a cousin on a private Facebook set up by my brother in northern DE called “Connor-Jeans” (a takeoff on “genes”).
I don’t wanna talk about my father — that was all 50-70 years ago.
“Let it go!” I’m told.
“Connor” is my mother’s maiden name. She was one of a large family.
Right-or-wrong, the Connors were portrayed as stupid by my father’s mother.
Even now an aging aunt, the last remaining sibling of my father, poo-poos the Connors.
My parents badmouthed one uncle among my mother’s siblings. Probably he made some wisecrack. Whatever; he was declared inferior.
This brainwashing gravitated to me. Every visit to that uncle, and there weren’t many, I was warned he was unsavory.
If I asked why I got clobbered.
Apparently that uncle was “pretty cool.” He and his wife were wonderful parents.
I never knew that. We avoided them.
So this brainwashing made it vaguely onto “Connor-Jeans,” getting those cousins all bent outta shape.
And justifiably. All kinds of madness passed as Godliness to my parents.
And since I was still alive, and they were dead, I could be personally badmouthed.
Nothing new; I’ve heard it since I was born.
I tried apologizing, but that crashed.
I decided the best thing for me to do was delete everything I posted on Connor-Jeans.
That included old photos, since I don’t know how Facebook works, and my comments might still fly with those photos.
So much for Connor-Jeans!
My brother-in-Boston, who refuses to have a Facebook, has the right idea.
“Don’t touch Facebook with a 10-foot pole.”

• My mother got better as she got older — she realized my father’s constant badmouthing and beatings were turning me away. But early-on her judgments had Biblical connotation, like Acme supermarkets were “Of-the-Devil,” whereas Jesus shopped A&P. —This may seem inconceivable to my younger siblings, but was the world I grew up in. (I’m the oldest.)