Secrets

—My mother was secretive. There were things she refused to talk about.
First was my Aunt Ginny, one of her older sisters.
Aunt Ginny’s last name was “Broadwater.” But there was no Broadwater.
The only “Broadwaters” I knew were David Broadwater and Mary-Lou; both were cousins.
So where was their father? I dared not ask for fear of getting smacked.
“I am your mother” (SMACK!); “and you are rebellious!” (SMACK!)
I saw Walt Disney’s “Cinderella” as a child. As soon as I saw “Mary Queen-of-Scots” I thought of my mother.
“OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!” was the same as “DON’T GET SMART!”
Or was it “Snow White?” Happily-ever-after with prince-charming who was a toad until kissed.
“Plunk your magic twanger, Froggy!” SMACK!
Most friends can’t believe my parents were so awful.
My youngest sister bewails I say such terrible things about my mother.
“Well, the parents you had weren’t the parents I had,” I say. “By the time you guys were born, they were so worn out they no longer could be the Sword-of-the-Lord.
I was first through the jungle,” I say = first-born, and unable to worship my holier-than-thou father.
The second secret was Timmo, my brother Tim, who was supposed to replace Tommy, who died of leukemia in 1953.
But Timmo had Down syndrome, and died at age-14.
I always say the classiest thing my parents did was to bring Tim home instead of institutionalize him.
But he may also have had some bodily flaw my mother refused to talk about, like a hole in his heart or liver or something.
Supposedly Tim died of dehydration, but why he dehydrated isn’t explained. I dared not ask: “DON’T GET SMART!”
Our family’s joke is my youngest sister is a product of my mother and “Big Ed,” our milkman.
I doubt it! Another secret, mayhap?

• My youngest sister was born 17 years after me. By then I was driving. I brought her and my mother home from the hospital.
• “Plunk your magic twanger, Froggy!” was from the earliest days of television: the program was Smilin’ Ed’s Gang.