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“Tammy has a wooden leg,” dad said.  “It’s her right one, and she likes to knock on it for emphasis sometimes, while telling her stories.”  We weren’t really on our way to Dallas to see Tammy that morning, we were instead going to visit my aunt.  Tammy was just my aunt’s nurse, which meant we got to see her too.

“No laughing at Tammy,” dad said.  “I’m serious.”

Still, no matter how many times I promised to be good, my father continued to warn me about how to deal with Tammy’s behavior.

You shouldn’t laugh at her, especially around death,” dad said.  “It makes me uncomfortable, and will only upset your mother.  Sandy is her only sister.”

Tammy’s Tale