I was born into a family that already had three girls. I have always had sisters. On the one hand, being from a family with strong women gave me a bit of familiarity with females. On the other hand, I grew up with a sense that there were rules that mad for a separation of genders. The youngest of my three sisters was a school pioneer for me. She was two years ahead of me in school and she told me what i needed to know about where the classrooms were located, who the teachers were, what the rules were, and how to be a student who didn’t get into trouble. She was a good student who had a lot of friends and her friends were often at our house. I joke that being the baby of the family of three big sisters had its drawbacks. My oldest sisters were old enough to be charged with my care for short periods of time and one of them especially had definite opinions about how I should be dressed. My joke is that all they ever did was change my clothes. Fortunately for me, two and a half years after I was born a brother came along and deflected all of that baby energy away from me. During that time our house was also expanded. Half of the roof came off and a second story was added which gave our home a second bathroom and private rooms for the girls.

I learned that boys were never to go into the girls rooms and don’t you ever forget it. I don’t think it was my parents’ rule, but it sure was my sisters’ rule. Another rule i learned was never look in a woman’s purse. I’ve confirmed that rule with a friend who also had sisters. Both of us get nervous when our wives ask us to get something from their purses. I don’t know how that rule was so firmly impacted. I don’t remember ever actually looking in a sister’s purse. I just remember knowing that it was something that i should never do.

There are rules from my childhood that I have questioned and that I no longer follow. For example in our house dinner was the midday meal and it lasted from noon until 1 pm. When we got old enough for school, we were allowed to get up from lunch five minutes before one when our father left to go back to work and we had to rush to school. When I became an adult, we ate dinner as our evening meal. Lunches were lighter fare and were consumed in less time.

I also grew up with strict orders to sit in the middle of the pew at church. I didn’t know why. Our family got big enough that we needed a full pew to sit in church, but I don’t think I sat at the end of a pew until after I was married. Now I sit at the end of the row all the time. Lightning hasn’t struck. God doesn’t seem angry. Church goes on fine with me sitting there as far as I can tell.

But I never look into a woman’s purse.

One of the quirks of my life is that on the night of my first date with the woman who has now been my wife for more than 51 years, my oldest sister died. It is a long story but the important part is that my wife never met my oldest sister in person. She has, however, heard a lot of stories.

Not long after that first date, I started to be a regular at the dining table of my wife’ family. I was a bit young and socially challenged in college. Although I had shared a bedroom with a brother since I was two, I had roommate problems when I went to college. I went through three in my freshman year and I worked it out to have a private room with no roommates afterward until I got married. I was lonely and homesick and way too proud to admit it to anyone. So I accepted every invitation to a meal at Susan’s house. And here parents were gracious and invited me a lot.

Susan is the oldest of three sisters and marrying her gave me two more sisters. We’ve been a part of each other’s lives for a long time. I’ve known them since they were in high school. And, for the record, I’ve never peeked into one of their purses.

Susan and her sisters are close and after their children were raised and out of the house and their parents came to the ends of their lives the three sisters have gotten together about once a year for what they call sisters’ retreat. Every third year Susan is the host and the sisters come to where we live. I am always welcomed at one or more meals with the sisters and included in some of the activities. Now that I’m retired, I usually come along when my wife goes to sisters’ retreat and hang out with the sisters some of the time and go off to do my own thing other times so that the three sisters can have time to be together..

This weekend is sisters’ retreat. Part of the time the sisters will be at a beach cottage that belongs to the youngest, but they are starting out in a short term rental house in the suburb of the city where my sister lives. A few years ago another of my sisters died, so I only have one sister from my birth family and we are close to each other. She’s still willing to fight any bully willing to pick on me. So, I’ll spend part of sisters retreat with Susan’s sister and part of the time with my sister. It is going to be a fun time. We have a lot of shared memories and more than a few stories to tell.

It is a comfortable time for me because I’ve always known the rules about sisters. Mind your manners. Don’t smack your lips or chew with your mouth open. Comb your hair and make sure your fingernails are clean before sitting down at the table. Shut up and let someone else talk. and never look into a woman’s purse. I know the rules and I’m OK with them. It’s going to be a good weekend.