My Sister will be flying in to Sea-Tac with her husband and granddaughter tomorrow mid-morning and I will ferry off the island at 5:45 a.m. to get them. I can’t wait. However, I must go into Cinderella mode and clean like a woman late for a ball.
You might have noticed that I capitalize the word Sister when referring to Lizz (who prefers the name, Elizabeth, like the Queen). My Sister commands respect. Not only because she is a worthy and intelligent woman due respect but because if she does not get respect from you, she’ll knock you on your butt until you willingly offer it to her.
Hence, the hanger incident. It was the year 1972. I was fourteen and Lizz (Elizabeth) was sixteen. She was already dating the man who would be her husband for forty years come this January 2014. She always tried to act older, like an adult (Pffft!) and I refused to act anything but my own hideous pubescent age. So…
I entered Lizz’s queendom–a place only “adults” dared go and upon entering, she excused me. I clapped my hands together twice and shouted, “Ow! Lizz, quit hitting me!” In an attempt to pull my mother in on my ploy. Well! My Sister tumbled back into childhood albeit with a wire hanger she wielded in her hand. She wanted me BBQ’d, my death on a platter, and with a wire hanger as a skewer.
Running out of her room, down the stairs, through the living room and into the den with Lizz on my heels she shouted, “I’m gonna kill you!” I raced behind my Mother who blocked my Sister. (I’m still alive so she didn’t kill me. Not then, anyway.)
“What’s going on!”
I’m making the rest of this up now because I’m 55. Over 40 years have passed and I can’t remember diddly-do. But, trust me, it’s probably somewhat very close (ahem) to the truth if my ever-ready reticular formation in my brain stem is working correctly.
“Susi’s such a hideous geek. I wish she would just die and leave me alone.”
“You can’t kill your sister (notice references to me are in lower case letters) with a hanger.”
And I swear I heard my Mother say under her breath, “It’s much better to use poison.”
I believe it was at this point in my life that I began writing mystery novels. So, a big Thank You to Mom and Sis who wanted me dead all the while thrusting my writing career into motion… and also my teenager feet. 🙂