Once family, family no more

For about five minutes in the early 1970s, during my father's flashbulb-quick second marriage, I had, in addition to my own sister and brother, two stepsisters and a stepbrother, Annie, Gwen and Jack.

What brought Gwen to mind and heart today, I can't say.  I have not even heard of her since I encountered her mother in the supermarket around 1985.  She was married, successful in a mathematical field, many degrees earned and applied.

When we were related, she left in my care her red Triumph Spitfire that rattled and shook like the earthquake simulator they take around to the schools here, great and risky fun to drive in our fog-bound beach town, while she was overseas in the Peace Corps.  At the time of her return, I remember her liking Wings' album Venus and Mars.  I was an older sister.  I guess that makes the Paul McCartney connection only slightly less baffling; this, however, was the Gwen song playing in my head.  I take no responsibility for an on-going altered state.  Writing of her in the company of bouncy Beatles' music seemed  the next indicated thing.  Hey, Gwen.  I miss you today.