My aunt Shirley wasn’t a very tall woman, yet she gave the impression of being large. She had a booming voice, and an infectious laugh, a laugh so vigorous and full that her entire body rolled with the laughter, and her massive bosom heaved as she strived to catch her breath between guffaws. Aunt Shirley wasn’t actually my “aunt,” she was my father’s first cousin, her mother and my maternal grandmother having been two of five sisters. Yet my brother and I being the only two of our extended family that were not nieces or nephews of the adults, had designated all adult relations as “aunt” or “uncle,” thus ascending to equal status amongst our many cousins.

Like most bungalow wives and mothers, Shirley joined the vast array of ubiquitous mah-jongg and canasta games, and several nights week indulged in nickel and dime high-low poker. Most colony kids became familiar with her, though, when acceding to her uncontested proficiency of judging just how long one needed to abstain from swimming after having ingested a meal. This was a skill held in the highest regard, lest someone miscalculate the required time, return too quickly to the water, develop a sudden cramp, and drown. Each day, after lunch, kids ages three to fifteen would line up near Shirley’s traditional poolside lounge to announce the contents of their lunch and await her verdict.