April 26, 2016

mix1

Three photographs called out from the jumble of photos dumped into old satin-covered chocolate boxes, wooden cigar boxes and carousels holding almost a thousand 35mm slides. Don’t look—toss? Just a quick peek? No such thing. Not after Aunt Rose blurted The Family Secret to me.

“Hey, guess what Aunt Rose told me when I was in England,” I said to my father, months later. If you can throw scowls, he threw me his scowl, silently got up, and left the dinner table. End of story—for him maybe.

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