I was a Freshair Fund kid staying at her house in Walton.
It was my second time there. Their youngest daughter was as cruel as anyone could imagine. I was in the movie house watching a "Tweety and Sylvester" cartoon when Cindy and her friends sneaked out, left me alone, and told her mother that I had left the theater.
They never mentioned the first time I stayed there; they had an older sister Joanne who was brilliant and witty and was staying at a friend's house.
The parents were Ralph and Ruth.
I was sitting on the grass on their lawn when Joanne wandered by, looked at her father, and said, "Hello, Ralph."
I laughed so hard, I couldn't breathe. I had never heard a kid call a parent by a first name. (Since her existence was hidden I guess she didn't want me to know that he was her father.) But Jeanne had said, "That's my sister, Joanne."
Joanne wanted to be cremated. I can understand why. They didn't even post her birthday on their "memorial" page.