my family is so. fucking weird and resistant to talking about anything. when i was a small child i asked my mother why she had a lot of gifts and things where people called her by another name and she like. didn’t give me a straight answer? it was her Hebrew name. like that’s literally it. that’s all u had to say
great-great-grandma cohen refused to tell her younger children that they were related to her two eldest children
my family didn’t tell me about part of my actual name until i sent away for my social security info to get my driver’s permit in my junior year of high school. i have an entire middle name that no one ever felt the need to mention to me
i had to google my own brother to find out why we don’t talk about him anymore
one morning in seventh grade my mother was driving me to school and asked me if she was too overprotective. i told her “yeah, sometimes.” then she casually, calmly went, “maybe it’s because you were almost kidnapped as a baby”
she didn’t even elaborate until i asked her to explain
(my father later confirmed that i was, in fact, briefly stolen as an infant)
my mom just dropped this information on me for the first time and was then like “bye honey have a good day at school”
no one knows great-grandma ruth’s real last name
this is some Lemony Snicket shit right here
When my grandfather died we weren’t sure if he and his
partner Betty had ever been formally married. At that point he’d been separated
from my grandmother since the late ‘fifties, divorced since 1970 or so, and
living with Betty for thirty years. I still don’t know, because everyone
figured it was too late to ask without feeling awkward.
Mooncustafer 