Family Secrets

by Zina Abbott

Helen turned to face Jennie, as if reading her mind.

  “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. In addition to being members of this illustrious little group, Desiree´ and I are also members of Sweet Adelines. Have you ever heard of them?”

  Jennie shook her head.

  “Sweet Adelines is a group of women singers who advance the music art form of barbershop harmony,” Desiree´ explained. “It’s an international organization. I mean, we are everywhere. We have a wonderful chorus here in the Sacramento area and we get together one night a week to practice. We occasionally give performances locally, mostly to non-profit groups or places like convalescent hospitals.”

  “I don’t know if she would be interested or not,” said Jennie, hesitantly. “She has never said anything about getting involved with something like that.”

  “Maybe she just needs someone to invite her,” said Helen. “And I will be happy to do that. The worst that can happen is that she can say no, right?”

  “The worst that can happen is she can skin me alive for telling you she has a good voice,” Jennie retorted.

  “Oh, pshaw!” Helen waved off Jennie’s remark. “Your mother is a big girl. She can tell me yes or no herself. You just focus on talking to your grandparents to get your family history. I will talk to your mom about Sweet Adelines. After I tell her how you bragged about how well she sings, she won’t be mad at you.”

  Jennie was not as confident about her mother’s response.

  “It is about time to get started, ladies,” Donna said.

  From the way Donna conducted the first part of their meeting, Jennie assumed that Donna must be the president. Like any club meeting, they started by conducting the business of the group. Sandy read the minutes of the previous meeting from an inexpensive bound journal book of the variety that Jennie remembered buying for English classes. Helen reviewed their record of income and expenses, which Jennie noticed was very minimal, in their checkbook. Then the time was turned over to Desiree´ who seemed to be in charge of planning the programs each month.

  “We never set anything up for December,” Desiree´ started. “Since next month is Christmas month and we all are busy, I thought it might be nice to just have a party rather than a presentation. How does everyone feel about a potluck dinner?”

  “Oh, yes, I really need more food, especially around the holidays,” Helen said, rolling her eyes. “I am wasting away, but not to nothing. My waist keeps expanding.”

  “Hey, it would be fun,” said Lupe. “I could ask my mother to help me make tamales.”

  “Oh, tamales! Yes! Go, tamales!” Kaylee cheered as she twisted her body and beat the air above her with her fists. “I say, ‘Let’s go ethnic,’ and have everyone bring some food representative of their own ethnic background. Only problem with that is, Mom says we are mostly English. I am not much into mincemeat pies and plum pudding.”

  “The English eat more than that at Christmas,” Helen gave her daughter a look of bewilderment. “I have a great fruitcake recipe that came from my great-grandmother.”

  Kaylee scrunched her face and shook her head.

  “An ethnic Christmas theme for our meeting would be good,” suggested Donna. “Who else has an ethnic background they would like to share? I’m not going to say ‘interesting ethnic background’, because all ethnic backgrounds are interesting.”

  Everyone turned to Desiree´ as she audibly sighed and looked at the ceiling.

  “I was hoping to keep it easy since it’s really a busy time at the school in December,” she said reluctantly. “But, then again, I was planning to put together a lesson on Scandinavian Christmas traditions for my history classes and share some traditional Swedish treats with my students. I suppose I could move my lesson planning schedule up so I could let my GOFT buddies be my guinea pigs for viewing this particular lesson and dessert before I drop it on my classes.”

  “Oh, and I could share both Mexican and Guatemalan Christmas traditions,” Lupe enthusiastically volunteered. “I started to write a story on Central American Christmas traditions several months ago, but got distracted. Maybe this will help me get going on that book again.”

  “That sounds like a program to me,” said Donna. “Maybe the rest of us can each bring a dish from one of our ethnic backgrounds to share.”

  Kaylee turned to Helen. “No mincemeat pie, Mom. No kidney pie, either, and forget the fruitcake. What about Swiss? Do I have any Swiss in me so I can bring a Swiss chocolate pie?”

  “Your father is part German. You could bring Anisplätzchen cookies or German chocolate cake.”

  “Uh, German chocolate cake sounds good to me.”

  If I was coming, I could bring something Portuguese, thought Jennie. Otherwise, the only ethnic food I know is good old American food, like pizza.

  Once the December meeting was decided, Desiree´ reviewed the plans for the first two meetings of the next year. In January, Kaylee was scheduled to give a demonstration on how to put together scrapbook pages to show off all the holiday pictures everyone would be taking in the next two months. The following month, Donna was scheduled to give an overview of one decade of American history.

  “Before we start our presentation, we need to discuss a change in officers,” said Donna.

  The room went completely quiet. Myndi stopped playing and looked at the women in the room, trying to figure out what was happening.

  “What change in officers?” Helen finally asked. “Everyone is doing a fine job where they are. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

  “No, it’s time for a change,” insisted Donna. “I, for one, need a break. We need a new president and maybe some of the rest of you would like an opportunity to do something different for the next year. I suggest we have elections next month. I would like to suggest that Helen head a nominations committee and choose two others to be on it with her.”

  “If I’m on the nominations committee, that means I can’t be elected, right?” asked Helen.

  Donna smiled at Helen for several seconds before answering.

  “No, if you are on the nominations committee, it means that if you can’t find someone else to agree to do the job, you nominate yourself.”

  Helen groaned in response, but agreed to put together a ballot for consideration at the December meeting.

  As much as Jennie enjoyed watching the interaction of the business meeting, she was relieved once they got down to the program for the evening. Arlene passed out a hand-out for her presentation. The first page included several internet sites and sources for articles, books and equipment. The next three pages included some sample questions to ask family members of various generations.

  As visual aids, Arlene set three types of audio recorders on the coffee table so that they could easily be seen by everyone. One was a full-size cassette recorder old enough that it was probably purchased when Jennie was still in elementary school. The second was a newer voice-activated mini cassette recorder like Jennie used for school. The third was a digital recorder which had a USB port built in. Arlene explained that all three varieties could be used for an oral interview, and all three could, with the proper software and equipment, have their recordings converted to a digital file and stored on a computer. The newest digital recorder had the advantage of saving the file in mp3 format that could be directly downloaded to the computer. From there, it could be played by one of the music programs or inserted into a multi-media family history production using a media management program.

  Arlene also explained how the interviewer could put family members at ease and how to ask the questions so that the people being interviewed felt they were merely telling stories or carrying on a conversation. “Tell them up front that you want to record your conversation with them so their stories can be shared audibly or transcribed. The trick to a successful interview, though, is to help them forget that they are being recorded. You need to give them a good reason to tell their story,” Arlene emphasized. “When they claim that their story is unimportant or b
oring, you need to already have your response figured out. You need to convince them that it is important to you and the family to know the family information and traditions they have locked away in their memories.”

  Once Arlene finished and the group enthusiastically expressed their praise and thanks, Arlene, along with Helen and Opal, jumped up from their seats and headed for what Jennie assumed was the kitchen. Jennie followed them with her eyes until she realized that Donna was talking to her.

  “Did you learn what you wanted to know tonight, Jennie?”

  “Yes, this was very helpful. I’m really glad I came.”

  Jennie felt confident that with what she had learned about recording equipment, the kind of questions she could ask, and resources on the computer she could access, she had a good chance of being successful. It definitely had been worth her time to come to GOFT for this particular presentation.

  “Next month will be a lot of fun, too,” said Kaylee, now holding baby Myrna who had awakened during Arlene’s presentation. “I hope you decide to bring your little boy with you.”

  “I doubt I’ll be able to make it next month,” Jennie quickly responded. “I work at The Bedazzled Boutique in the mall. It’s really hectic working in retail during the Christmas holidays.”

  “The Bedazzled Boutique, my dream store!” Kaylee slumped in her seat as her eyes stared above Jennie’s head in a dream-like state. Then she sat up straight, suddenly all business. “Unfortunately, my budget does not allow me to indulge myself by shopping there too often. But, yeah, I used to do Christmas help for a department store, so I know what it’s like for you this time of year. If you need help with your little boy, give me a call. And, if you can, you need to come back next month and tell us how things worked out with interviewing your family.”

  “This time of year for you is about like March and April is for me,” said Helen, sparing Jennie from thinking up a response. “You ladies better enjoy my presence while you can because you know I will make myself scarce once the W-2s arrive and everyone starts showing up for their tax work.”

  “Okay, ladies,” Arlene called out to those left in the living room. “Opal brought her famous pumpkin dessert and spiced apple cider. It’s waiting on the dining room table for you.”

  Once everyone claimed their desserts and returned to the living room, Jennie quietly sat back and observed the flow of conversation between the established friendships of the group. She felt proud of herself for starting to remember everyone’s names. She enjoyed learning more about each woman there. She mused how easy it was to feel that all these women were her friends in spite of the wide range of ages. She was startled out of her reverie when she realized that everyone was looking at her as if waiting for an answer. She hadn’t heard the question.

  “I’m sorry, what was that again?”

  “Who in your family do you hope to interview first?” asked Kaylee.

  “The textbook advice is to start with your oldest relative,” offered Opal. “You never know how long we older folks will hang around. Unfortunately, sometimes our minds go before our bodies do.”

  Jennie took a deep breath. She just had this conversation with Donna not long ago.

  “My grandfather on my mother’s side.”

  “That should be interesting,” said Kaylee. “Has he had an exciting life?”

  “Not according to him. Grandpa Mike isn’t a big talker to begin with. My grandma told me he was in the Army and fought in the Vietnam War. Then, he worked as a mailman, then a postmaster, and then some other kind of manager up in Sacramento. But that’s about all I know. As kids, whenever my brother or I asked Grandpa Mike what it was like in Vietnam, he always refused to tell us any stories, saying it was a terrible war and best forgotten.”

  “I think you’re right that a lot of men who have been in combat don’t like to talk about their experiences,” Donna said thoughtfully. “I suspect that remembering revives the fear and horror they felt when they went through it. I know my father was part of ‘the greatest generation’ who fought in World War Two. He never wanted to talk to us about those years.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. But, the other things I want to know involve Mom being born and then adopted by my Grandma Jan. It happened around that same time. I have a feeling the stories are connected in some way.”

  “That is an interesting tidbit of family history,” commented Helen. “It hints at perhaps an illegitimate birth, one of those skeletons-in-the-closet kinds of things. Your grandmother must be quite a woman if she was willing to adopt your father’s child by another woman and raise her as her own. Be sure to explore all the angles.”

  “Mom! That is so rude! Maybe it was nothing like that at all.”

  “Then again, maybe it was,” retorted Helen. “If Jennie is ready to dig into her family’s secrets, she needs to hope for the best but be prepared to hear the worst.”

  Jennie took a deep breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips. She had already figured out that Helen assumed everyone had a thick skin. She decided that Helen was good at analyzing situations and coming up with a lot of possibilities, which was fine if what she wanted was a private investigator for dead family members. But, Helen obviously had a way of suggesting scenarios that did not portray people in the best light.

  “I’m not sure of all the details, but what I do know is my grandmother adopted my mother when my mother was a baby,” Jennie said. “I did get the impression from what Mom told me that it was more of a case of my grandparents thought that if they only looked forward and ignored the past, it would disappear.”

  “That happens more than most people think,” Helen said, a knowing look on her face.

  “How do you feel about that, Jennie?” asked Donna quietly.

  “How do I feel about that?” Jennie echoed her neighbor. Then she realized she and Donna had already talked about this and Donna knew how she felt about it. To avoid the question, she observed. “You sound rather Freudian, Donna. Maybe you missed your calling and should have been a psychologist.”

  “You keep trying to find new vocations for me, Jennie,” Donna smiled. “Like I told you before, my passion is family history. Anytime I talk to someone like I am with you now, I’m reminded why I find this field so fascinating. Every family has their own special story.”

  “I’m starting to figure that out,” Jennie shook her head. “I was sure my family was totally boring. Now I know there is this mystery involved, I feel compelled to uncover and resolve it.”

  “Does knowing there has been an adoption in your family change your feelings towards any members of your family, or are you okay with it?” asked Lupe. “When I was little, my best friend found out she was adopted by her aunt. I used to be afraid that someday I would learn that my parents are not really my parents.”

  “I’m okay with it,” said Jennie quickly. Then she stared at the empty dessert plate in her hand while she experienced a moment of introspection. “I find it interesting,” she continued more slowly, “but it doesn’t make any difference whatsoever as far as my feelings toward my family. I admit I’m curious now about the missing grandparent, the woman who gave birth to, but did not raise my mother. Other than that, I still love everyone in my family the same as I did before.”

  “What about your mother?” asked Sandy. “She’s from a different generation where adopting children was not always as open as it is now.”

  “I think it bothered her, at first. I think finding out had a much greater emotional impact on her than it does on me.”

  “Are you sure you can emotionally handle finding the answers better than your mother was able to?”

  “I think so.”

  “You’re a generation away from the situation. Maybe you are in a better position to go after the details that your mother has avoided all these years,” said Donna.

  Jennie felt amazed at the way Donna directed their conversation to arrive at conclusions that felt so right.

  “I hope so. I’m g
oing to give it a try.”

  “So you’re not afraid of opening Pandora’s Box?” Kaylee asked.

  “I don’t see it as Pandora’s Box. I see it as—well, not like a treasure chest—more like a strong box with important information inside that can be of great value if only I can unlock it.”

  “And your grandpa is the key, no?” said Lupe.

  “No…” Jennie hesitated. “He’s the lock. He’s the one who keeps everyone from talking about it so it stays hidden away.”

  “So, what’s the key?” asked Kaylee.

  “I think it’s more of a case of who is the key,” said Donna.

  The room grew silent as everyone looked at Jennie.

  “I guess I’m hoping I’m the key,” Jennie said. “That’s one of the reasons I decided to come tonight. I need all the help I can get to learn how to help Grandpa Mike open up so he will tell us what happened.”

  Helen clutched her chest and leaned to her far right, her face assuming an expression of mock shock. “And here I thought you came because Donna assured you that we at GOFT are the most wonderful, fascinating, irresistible women you would ever want to meet.”

  “No, Mom, this is serious!”

  “I know,” said a more subdued Helen. “And I do hope you find what you are looking for, Jennie. I just hope you know that when Donna brought you to the GOFT meeting, you came to the best bunch of supporters in the world.”

  Jennie laughed. “Yes, she did tell me you are great. Although, her husband calls you the ‘goofy ladies’.”

  “We can be that, too,” said Arlene with a laugh. “We have a lot of fun.”

  “We have enjoyed having you join us tonight,” said Opal.

  “Thanks, and I appreciate all your help. I’m going to study these hand-outs and look up all the online sites so I can be as prepared as possible. Wish me luck on Thanksgiving Day, will you? That is the one holiday my mom’s side of the family always spends together. Even though he sometimes gets quiet and grumpy after dinner, it seems to be Grandpa Mike’s favorite holiday.”

  “Really!” said Kayla. “I think Christmas is most people’s favorite holiday. I know it’s mine, hands down.”