No, not mine. My girlfriend's brother, whom I've previously named Fernando, has tied the knot. He and his new bride were married by a Justice of the Peace inside the same building where his sister works as a law clerk. As his sister's loyal boyfriend, I apprised her of this tidbit of information. She contacted her mother, only to find out that, unlike when news of the engagement was made on Facebook, the mother already knew, but didn't say anything because she wanted Fernando to have the honor of making the announcement to my girlfriend, whom I'll call Tawny for simplicity's sake. So Tawny is the last to find out. Fernando's new wife, whom I'll name Shayla, is a nice girl whom, according to Facebook, has declared a mixture of "atheism" and "misanthropism" as her religion. It's no wonder these two formed a permanent hookup.
By contrast, my family is much better at keeping secrets. For the first dozen years of my life, I never could figure out why my sisters called our father "Bob" instead of "Dad". I just assumed it was something that older children were allowed to do. Then my dad explained to me that he was only my dad, and that he was their step-dad. Over the years, little tidbits of information have eeked out that have completed the picture. While in college, my godmother filled in me in on some of it. I was saddened to hear that she died this year. I was maddened to hear that it happened in June, and my parents & I found out about it with Google in October. Some members of her family are apparently good at keeping secrets too.
No comments:
Post a Comment