This Happened To Me
The Cat Ate My Brother-In-Law
Yes, this really happened.
Here’s a math problem for you:
If I was my second husband’s third wife and I was 20 years younger than him, how much did his devoutly Catholic family hate me?
The answer: A lot.
Dave was one of eight or nine children — really, after the fourth, who’s counting? He was closest to his sister Cindy*, who actually looked like a female version of my husband, which was confusing, and who might have been a nun at one point. When my memory fails me, I tend to make things up. But nun feels right.
Cindy was married to John, my brother-in-law.
John didn’t talk a lot, not that I interacted with him an enormous amount. Dave’s family lived in Michigan, a state to which, prior to marrying Dave, I had never been, despite its proximity to Ohio.
You know when you’ve crossed the border into Michigan because the asphalt highway turns to dirt.
I didn’t know this about Michigan. I knew Michigan was full of football-obsessed people who hated OSU, but I assumed the state was nonetheless almost exactly like mine, e.g. it had paved roads. I mean, it’s one inch away on the map. How different could it be?
