Carol:
Ask Me No Questions….
Generally, I don’t care much for keeping a secret although I realize that depends on the what and why of it. I don’t like “skeleton in the closet” secrets, but I respect the privacy of people who confide in me. But, what about the garden variety little secrets that lead to happy endings? I’m just not very good at those.
For one, I do not have a poker face. My family knows this and takes advantage. We used to play a game called Rommoli at big family gatherings for the holidays. The game would get pretty competitive, and the only edge I really had was being the youngest and thus not considered a threat. During one round, I drew a hand that I knew could not be beaten in the poker phase. The more I looked at those cards, the more excited I got. The corners of my mouth started to curl up in an uncontrollable grin. When we got to betting for the poker hand, my oldest brother looked at me and turned to the rest of the family. “Don’t bet anything. Look at Carol’s face. She has a winning hand.” So, I ended up taking the hand with absolutely no pay-off. I told you my family is competitive.
Not having a poker face is only part of the problem. The other part is that I hate to lie. Even the happiest secrets involve some dishonesty or equivocation. “No dear, I am not planning a surprise party for your birthday.” When asked a direct question, even though I want to keep the surprise, I get squirmy and uncomfortable inside or I break into that darn uncontrollable grin. Either way my body language is a give-away, so I try avoidance tactics, such as “Now dear, I know you don’t like surprise parties.”
Not having a poker face is only part of the problem. The other part is that I hate to lie. Even the happiest secrets involve some dishonesty or equivocation. “No dear, I am not planning a surprise party for your birthday.” When asked a direct question, even though I want to keep the surprise, I get squirmy and uncomfortable inside or I break into that darn uncontrollable grin. Either way my body language is a give-away, so I try avoidance tactics, such as “Now dear, I know you don’t like surprise parties.”
I have managed to pull off surprises by only telling half the truth. And, the fun of watching the expression of delight on someone’s face is worth the squirmy lies. When I threw a party for my mother’s 85th birthday, she took great pleasure in working on the invitation list with me and the details of food and decorations. At the party, she was having such fun being regaled by her friends in the church choir that she didn’t notice when our back door opened In walked the secret “gift” I had managed to keep, both my brothers and their wives from California. The look of total joy on her face was worth keeping that particular secret.
I’m not the only one who has kept a secret like that. One of my favorite surprises came after my son was born. A friend in town invited me to a “little informal coffee gathering.” She said it might be hard to find a babysitter, so I was welcome to bring both the baby and the two-year old. The other ladies wouldn’t mind. When I came into her living room, the first person I saw was one of my neighbors. I remember thinking it an interesting coincidence that she knew my hostess. Then, in walked a friend from church, oh another interesting coincidence. When commented to my hostess about the serendipity of it all, and she burst out laughing. “Why, Carol, didn’t you figure out this is a baby shower for you?” Duh.
So, this is a big birthday year for my husband. For his last big birthday, I planned a surprise weekend at a beautiful hotel with lots of family. I may have something special planned already, maybe not. I’ll just stop there because he reads our Daily Theme essays, and I wouldn’t want him to start asking questions.
Megan:
Growing up, I was taught that secrets are lies. Being asked to keep a secret was being asked to lie, unless the secret was temporary, in the case of a surprise or a gift. I always had the feeling that my parents felt secrets within a family were a sign of oppression and dysfunction, and consequently they tried to raise my brother and I to be open and honest people.
I remember only two times my father asked me to keep a secret – both times the secret was from my brother. My uncle died when I was 6, and my father asked me to keep the details from my brother who was 4 because he was too young to understand. The second time was when I confided to my father that I didn’t believe in God and wanted to stop going to church. I was 12, and my father told me it was important to set an example for my brother so I had to keep going and not mention anything to him. The first secret I understood, the second I resented.
Now that we are grown, my parents’ attitudes seem to have shifted. My mother has always been uncomfortable with the idea of keeping secrets, but at the same time has often said there are some things she doesn’t want to know. She also hates gossip, and tries to mind her own business, and depending on her mood she sometimes doesn’t even share things one might expect to come up in a normal conversation. While I was still in England, my brother lost his job. I didn’t speak to him as often as I did my parents, so it was several months before I found out. He was as surprised as I was that no one had told me. Living as far away as I did, I would have thought my parents would keep me up to date about the family.
As I’m writing this, I understand more why they discouraged secrets when we were children, but keep them now that we are adults. It was a matter of safety, I guess. Children should be raised without shame or fear, but adults have a right to some privacy. This is an issue that comes up often in my writing. There are things that I know, events that have played a part in shaping me, that are not mine to share. There are things I have done, mistakes I have made and learned from, and because of the learning I cannot regret them. But still I hesitate to share them because I’m afraid it might change the way my parents look at me. This is exactly what they wanted to avoid by raising children to be open and honest, but it’s unescapable. Everyone keeps secrets from their parents. We know they have unconditional love, but see no reason to test it.
I remember only two times my father asked me to keep a secret – both times the secret was from my brother. My uncle died when I was 6, and my father asked me to keep the details from my brother who was 4 because he was too young to understand. The second time was when I confided to my father that I didn’t believe in God and wanted to stop going to church. I was 12, and my father told me it was important to set an example for my brother so I had to keep going and not mention anything to him. The first secret I understood, the second I resented.
Now that we are grown, my parents’ attitudes seem to have shifted. My mother has always been uncomfortable with the idea of keeping secrets, but at the same time has often said there are some things she doesn’t want to know. She also hates gossip, and tries to mind her own business, and depending on her mood she sometimes doesn’t even share things one might expect to come up in a normal conversation. While I was still in England, my brother lost his job. I didn’t speak to him as often as I did my parents, so it was several months before I found out. He was as surprised as I was that no one had told me. Living as far away as I did, I would have thought my parents would keep me up to date about the family.
As I’m writing this, I understand more why they discouraged secrets when we were children, but keep them now that we are adults. It was a matter of safety, I guess. Children should be raised without shame or fear, but adults have a right to some privacy. This is an issue that comes up often in my writing. There are things that I know, events that have played a part in shaping me, that are not mine to share. There are things I have done, mistakes I have made and learned from, and because of the learning I cannot regret them. But still I hesitate to share them because I’m afraid it might change the way my parents look at me. This is exactly what they wanted to avoid by raising children to be open and honest, but it’s unescapable. Everyone keeps secrets from their parents. We know they have unconditional love, but see no reason to test it.
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