Chapter 9

“I know, but sometimes, I get really frustrated, big brother. I’m only thirteen, but at times I even look at my own sisters and get hard.”

“Wow, that is clearly too much information, Mike. All I can tell you is that while cousins might be OK, your own sisters might just cut off your dick, like that chick in Buffalo did to her own husband, just last year.”

“Oww, just thinking about that, makes me hurt!” he said.

“Remember that, the next time you think of Betty, Chris, or Jessica, OK?”

“You seem to get along well with them. What are you doing that could help me, Priest?”

“I treat them with respect ... girls like that. Girls that aren’t sisters or cousins, like that too. Remember that, OK?

He gave me a slap on the back and went into his room.

I walked into my room, finding Betty and Jill, sitting on my bed, apparently waiting for me. I had given my oldest sister a key to my room, so I wasn’t terribly upset.

“Elizabeth tells me you tutor, is that right, Priest?” Jill asked, playing with her long hair.

“Yes, I do,” I replied sitting in my computer chair and turning towards them. “What subject do you need help in, cousin?”

“You are going to laugh when I tell you,” she said.

“Any class you are having trouble in, I can help you. I am all-knowing!”

They both laughed at me.

“Are you taking the TJ Math courses?”

“Yes, how did you know that?”

“I am all-knowing, which level of the TJHSST are you in?”

“Five, and I am getting a lot of it, but the stuff about Math Induction and Sonic Sections reads like a foreign language instead of Math. Here is the book ... Elizabeth said you would need it.”

it was handed to me, but I put it down. I turned to my computer, and typed in a sequence of letters and numbers, all intermixed. Then I got up, took her by the hand, sat down and put her on my lap.

She giggled, and I said, “Quiet, please? Read the characters out loud from the right to the left, please?”

“But...”

“No but, do as I say, please?”

She was perfect, adding uppercase and lowercase as she went. I turned her away from the screen and typed in a new batch of characters, then turned her back to see and asked her to read this batch from left to right.

She made 15 mistakes in 60 characters.

“Do you have the same problem in English, my dear?”

“Sometimes,” she said looking at me.

“What about insomnia and headaches?”

“All the time, Priest. What’s going on?”

“I am not trying to do anything except help you, but, you may have a rather common form of dyslexia, called intermittent dyslexia. Don’t worry, its treatable, and common, more in boys than girls, but you may be one of the lucky ones, who can read faster backwards than forwards.”

I gave her a kiss on the cheek, causing her to giggle and blush.

“Oh, thank you, exactly what is dyslexia?”

“Generally, it’s a term for disorders that involve difficulty in learning to read or interpret words, letters and other common symbols. They call it a disorder so that drug companies can create a pill that helps you, but costs too much money to afford. Talk to your Mom and Dad, tell them what I said, and they can get you reading and interpreting like the rest of us, OK?”

“There will be no fee for this tutoring session, unless you don’t do what I just said, OK?”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, my dear?”

“You have a very soothing voice, Priest,” she said.

“Thank you, anything, else?” I asked.

“N-No thank you,” she said.

They left together!

I kept most of the family in my free genealogy software, called PAF (Personal Ancestral File) a website by the Mormons that can run on any PC or Mac, I believe.

I created the file back when I first was tasked with organizing everyone for purposes of family reunions. We didn’t have one last year, so I was hopeful the idea had died.

Of the 348 people in the file, only 17 didn’t live in Salisbury, North Carolina, a town with only 25,000 people as of the 1990 Census.

Starting with my Mom’s parents, Ruth and Richard Martin, they had eight kids, who had twenty-two kids.

Dad’s parents, Barbara and Stanley Thornberry, had eleven kids, who had thirty-one kids.

Once you add in spouses and siblings, instead of a Tree, it more closely resembled a hedge. The four grandparents never talked about their parents or siblings, and I didn’t push it, but I did try to get some additional info.

At the last reunion, we did have, there were 203 attending. The other seven lived in High Point, NC, a much bigger town of nearly 70,000. An interesting factoid is that there were no hispanics, blacks, asians or any race beside causcasians in our family tree ... bush! (The state of North Carolina is over 25% other than white, and steadily heading downward. Funny, considering slaves use to comprise 30% of the state’s population.)

We were all lily-white, and proud of it!

There was a knock on my door, and Chris came in with Julie, Jill’s twin. She introduced me, and I took her hand and kissed it, getting giggles from both.

“So, which of you is the oldest, who was born first?” I asked her.