My father was so afraid that he’d be sent back to Russia that everything was a secret. On a 1930’s census, his family only admitted to being from the Bronx. I find myself secretive too. Oh, and there was lots more. As a child, I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone something as insignificant as “I went to the beauty parlor for my cousin’s wedding.” When twitter wanted my cell phone number to protect my account, I gave them a phony number. Well, now my account has been tampered with. Twitter needs my mobile phone to revive my account. (Sigh.) It took me two years to cull 600 followers, and now they will be wiped out. When I get my new twitter account, I hope I’ll get a few pity followers.