Once again it is Friday and time for a topic chosen by the LBC, a group of writers who take turns choosing a subject to write on and to post weekly. This time the subject is” Visit or Visiors”. I have listed all the writers for this group on my sidebar under Consortium Writers and I invite you to go to their blogs and enjoy their different writing styles and their creative approach to the subject.

When it was announced that this week our topic would be visit or visitor, I was reminded of an old family story about Uncle Charlie and his unannounced visit.

Many years ago, about the time I was a teen-ager, a rather pesky relative decided to write a book about the family. Uncle Charlie was not really an uncle. He was, as the family was fond of saying, a second cousin twice removed. He was the widower of a distant relative on my mother’s side of the family and for some unexplainable reason decided to write a book about his wife’s family. The problem was Charlie was very old and had a lot of trouble keeping the many facts straight. All of this to the chagrin of my mother and her sisters who feared he would not only publish errors , but also release some old family skeletons that had been closeted for years.

I remember my Aunt Gladys calling my mother and going on and on about Uncle Charlie and how in Chapter 5 he had her first son born two years before her marriage to Uncle Angus. The stories of mistakes went back and forth across the telephone wires until most of the aunts, uncles, and cousins were either laughing hysterically because the mistake was embarrassing to someone other than themselves or howling angrily because it was their history being mangled.

Everyone agreed that what happened in the family needed to stay in the family and definitely should never be published. . . . ever. So over the weeks, the consternation rose as Uncle Charlie who did not like to telephone just dropped by uninvited to ask questions, or leave another chapter or draft of his writing for some unexpecting family member to read.

At this time, my mother had a good friend named Kitty. Kitty lived down the block from us and often stopped by early morning for a cup of coffee. On this particular morning, my mother was ironing clothes. She had started early because there was more than the usual amount that week. So when Kitty arrived, she was ready for a break even though she had just begun the tedious task of ironing the family’s clothing.

My mother had earlier shared the stories about the family and the self-appointed , but bewildered family historian, with her kaffeeklatch friend. So when my mom looked out the front window and saw Uncle Charlie slowly making his way up the front steps, she jumped up, announced to Kitty that she was going to hide in the basement and please would Kitty go to the door and tell Uncle Charlie that she was out shopping.

Mom quickly made her way down the basement stairs and her friend dutifully went to the front door to deliver the message, but Kitty thought she could make the story better. So she announced to Charlie that she was hired help and was there to do the weekly ironing. Well, old Charlie was more than a match for Kitty. He simply stepped around her and said, “Don’t matter, I’ll just sit here and wait for Grace to get home.”

This left Kitty in a dilemma. If she left, she would be caught in her embellished version of my mom’s lie. If she stayed, she would have to do the ironing. After all, she had just announced she was there to do the family ironing. My mom was stuck in the basement and Charlie’s ample backside was planted firmly on a dining room chair, right next to the ironing board and the huge basket of clothes ready for ironing. So quickly Kitty picked out a blouse, turned on the iron, and started to work. Doomed to the chore by her falsehood, she ironed, and ironed, and ironed while Uncle Charlie, who was known for droning on about all subjects, proceeded to talk non-stop. Poor Kitty was a captured audience for his stories and he was warming up to his visit with the hired help.

After my mom had spent two long hours in the basement, Uncle Charlie ran out of stories to tell Kitty. He stood up abruptly and announced that he would be on his way. As he left , he stated that he would catch the streetcar and visit cousin Esther. Kitty waited until he was safely away from the house. Then she called out the all clear to my mother who rushed upstairs to find her laundry basket empty and all the ironing completed. The two women laughed and laughed.

In telling the story later, my mom said, “The next time that fool comes to the door, I am going to make sure I have a book in the basement. I had nothing to read the whole time I was down there.” Kitty said she hoped it would be Tom Sawyer because my mom would enjoy reading or rereading the part about whet-washing the fence since she and Tom shared a cleverness at getting someone else to do the work.

Uncle Charlie continued to make surprise visits to relatives, but thank goodness, the book never did get written and I do believe the drafts that family members were given are long gone.