When is it ok to tell?

When someone tells me something in confidence, I keep the secret. Oh, I've messed up a few times but mainly because I didn't realize it was supposed to be private. I have hung onto some nuggets with my tongue clamped between my teeth and a serious need for duct tape.

I usually ask if it's OK to share with the husband. If the answer is no, I don't do it. If the secret is coming from the husband, I usually ask if I can tell my parents. (I have to have someone to talk to.) I also ask, "Who else knows?" I'm big on perspective of the whole picture.

My one rule about secrets is this:
If someone is endangering his or her life, health or sanity, all bets are off.

I don't keep a lot of secrets about myself. But, if something is really festering, I may choose not to talk about it for awhile. People know to let me brood -- I will tell them in due time.

I was talking to a friend the other day and she made an off-hand remark: "That's why I never disclose anything." She doesn't. I understand the fear of getting hurt or embarrassed but sometimes sharing is the quickest road to recovery -- even when the advice isn't what you want to hear.

Good Cop/Bad Cop

If I push it, I can keep a secret from my parents for about 24 hours. When anything is bothering me, I am itching to call them. Yet, I know what's in store. Bad Cop will let me cry and complain. (There might be an "I told you so" lecture.) Advice will be plentiful and helpful.

Good Cop will understand that Bad Cop has already taken care of the necessary details. Good Cop gets to hear the daughter and lend an ear. No judgment needed; the cops will discuss it later.

My parents are not angels but they are an amazing unit. I could marry as often as Elizabeth Taylor and never find a union as fitting as theirs.

I called today with a problem. Bad Cop said, "Face it and figure it out." Good Cop said, "Kick 'em." Good advice from both sides.

We're The Oldies

I want to set the record straight about this blog. It is not a secret from the oldies.

I print out many of these posts for them. She knows the web address and there are enough computers around for her to go and check it any time. There are no secrets in this house.

Hangdog is legally blind but the mother-in-law reads to him. Yesterday, she was reading the one about us all around the piano and the one about one more day. He asked, "Who are the oldies?"

She whacked him (lightly) and said, "We are the oldies." She cracks me up.

An Open Book

Sometimes a friend or family member will say to me, "I need to tell you something but you can't tell anyone." That's clear enough. That's fair. And, I don't. I am a great keeper of secrets. Every once in a while, I will ask, "Can I tell the husband?" If they say "no," I don't.

Sometimes there's just normal banter and conversation. Then, someone will say to me, "You can't write about that." I usually respect this but I have been known to say to my mother or the husband, "You are not my editor. Don't tell me what I can write."

There are a few times when all deals are off. If your life is in danger, etc. Those are rare but they do happen.

The irony is not lost on me. I write every day about the husband, the children, the oldies and some of my quirkiest and weirdest experiences. I invite the comments.

I am an open book. But, I keep a few secrets up my sleeve.