What Do You Wear to a Communion Open House Anyway?

(Fair Warning: Long convoluted post, I promise I come to the point eventually)

When I was fourteen years old there was two things I wanted more than anything in the world (besides David Cassidy's love, that is).

I really wanted an older brother and a baby sister.

You see, I had had enough of being the oldest.

Of being resonsible.

Of being responsible for my two younger brothers.

My mother was pregnant at the time, so there was a 50/50 chance on the baby sister. I believe I talked about Angie earlier.

A sister! Hazzah!

The older brother, however, seemed pretty much impossible. Seriously now, how was my mother supposed to pull that one off? Go back in time? Have a baby at oh, 12?

Anyway.

Round about this time, 1975, (Yes boys and girls I am an old lady) my father sat me down and told me that he had been married before he had met my mother.

Really?

Oh, and they were married in the Catholic Church and her name was Mary and they had a son.

WHAT?

It seems the marriage didn't work out. They were both so young and my father was a bit of a hot head in those days. They divorced and she disapeared with their son.

For 15 years.

That's right. For 15 years my father didn't know where he was or if he was o.k.

He hired a PI when I was young who was only able to find out that Mary had travelled to California. After that, they disapeared.

It seems Mary remarried (say that three times really fast) and told everyone that Phillip's father was deceased. Her new husband adopted him and raised him.

After they divorced she returned to Chicago. By then he was in High School.

A few years later, Phillip was looking at some photos from a dance that one of his buddy's parents had gone to.

He asked him who one of the men were in the pics.

"You know, he looks like how I always pictured my real dad. What's his name?"

Well it was his real dad. The father who hadn't died in the '60's. Who was very much alive.

After confronting Mary, he found out the truth. The jerk that raised him, abused him. Locked him in the attic when he misbehaved, was not his father.

Rudy was his father. And he had brothers and a sister he never knew existed.

How sad.

From 1975 to 1982, Phillip and his new wife and kids were a constant presence in our lives.

Angie and her "niece" Kelly played together.

My nieces and nephew hung all over me like all of the other little kids. (I was a baby magnet, I tell ya).

And we were one big happy dysfunctional modern family.


Until Dad's death.

Then Phillip and his family pretty much disapeared. I see a trend here.

It seems that immediately following the funeral, when Phillip questioned Tony giving away some of Dad's things, Tony told him to mind his own business. That he wasn't really part of the family.

It crushed him.

I never knew it happened until recently.

I had no idea how he or his family was doing. They moved from the city and all of my cards and letters were returned.

Until Facebook.

We have an unusual last name. There's only a handful of us left so finding us was fairly easy.

We have since met again and have been in touch through Facebook.

What does this have to do with an Open House you might ask......

The SgtMaj and I are going to my brother's house today for an Open House to celebrate their grandson's Communion. (Legally he is their son, but that's another story).

I figure I'll wear a work outfit. I'm assuming the other guests will be coming from church and will be dressed appropriatlely.

I think.

The last time I attended Mass there were people in jeans.

It disturbed me.

I am an old lady