Dear Auntie Linda, August, 9, 2015

Auntie Linda

Dear Auntie Linda, My husband and I underwent genetic testing before attempting to start a family, since a genetic disorder runs in his family.  He was found to carry a dominant gene.  I carry the  recessive gene, meaning our natural children would be affected.  When I shared this devastating news with my mother, she confided that she had always feared I had been conceived during an indiscretion during a bad patch she and my father went through.  I am the second of three children, the only daughter.  I love my mother, but have always been closer to my father.  She has begged for my forgiveness and asked me not to tell my father.  I would never consider hurting him this way, but I am furious at my mother of robbing me of a family through her selfishness.  How do I deal with this?  Heartsick

Dear Heartsick,  This is a sad situation.  I feel for you, your husband, and your mother in your disappointment.  Your mother must be heartbroken to know her indiscretion is the reason you can’t have children.  But by the same reasoning, it it the reason you are who you are.  You and your parents are all exactly the same people you were before you found this out.  I know your mother will always regret this.  I hope for your sake and hers, you can forgive her.  Bitterness is a heavy burden.  I hope there will be a way for you to have children in your life.  Auntie Linda

Dear Auntie Linda,  Mother is seventy-four and in love with the telephone.  She is healthy and independent, but can’t leave the phone alone.  I try to head her off by calling her before I go to work every morning, but almost without fail, she calls me back to tell me something she forgot to tell me, even though I ask if that’s all she had to tell me before I hang up.  I check in when I get in in the evening.  Same routine.  As soon as the call is finished, she remembers one more thing she just has to tell me and calls right back.  I’ve asked her to hold her news for the next call, but she refuses.  Sometimes, if I’ve already talked to her a couple of times that day, I just don’t answer, calling back a few hours later, hoping to consolidate a few calls.  Is this horrible?  Then my sisters get rapid-fire phone calls telling on me. I’ve asked Mother not to call till she has a few things to say, but sometimes, I get separate calls purely to tell me the mailman is late, Kroger has apples on special, or Walgeen didn’t have the PruneLax and now she’ll be constipated for three days.  By the way, talking on the phone isn’t my favorite thing since I work in a call center.  Don’t call me, please.

Dear Don’t Call, Sounds like your best bet is to make Mama mad.  No really, I doubt there’s much you can do except say you’ll call back when you can.  She will probably be mad, but that’s better than both of you being mad all the time.  Auntie Linda

Dear Auntie Linda, My husband is a prominent Baptist Minister.  He had an automobile accident and was brought to the emergency room wearing lacy women’s underwear, as is his habit. His clothes were cut off and not returned to me.  He is now recovering well. He is an excellent minister, a good husband and father,  but I have always lived in fear that this secret would come out and ruin our lives.  I have been waiting for days, but haven’t heard a whisper. Is it likely this will leak out?   I am so worried.  Pins and Needles.

Dear Pins and Needles,  I worked as an emergency room nurse for many years. I am sorry to disappoint you, but it would far take more than a minister wearing lacy panties to get a second glance in the emergency room.  Had he walked in shading himself with a parasol, wearing a tutu and carrying his severed head under his arm, he might have gotten a look, otherwise, forget it.  Hospital personnel face severe legal penalties should they violate patient confidentiality.

Joke of the Day

I’m God
Father McGee walked into the church and spotted a man sitting cross-legged on the altar.

‘My son,’ said the holy man, ‘what are you doing? Who are you?’

‘I’m God,’ said the stranger.


‘I’m God,’ he repeated. ‘This is my house!’

Father McGee ran into the presbytery and, in total panic, rang the archbishop.

‘Your reverence,’ said he, ‘I hate to trouble you, but there’s a man sat on me altar who claims he’s God. What’ll he do?’

Take no chances,’ said the archbishop. ‘Get back in the church and look busy!’