By SUSAN DROMEY HEETER, Joyful Musings

In November fourth’s New York Times, there is a story on page A22 that holds the line, “…When she was about 10 years old, she told officers, she had seen her mother’s boyfriend cutting up a body and burying it in the backyard.”

Yikes.  It’s hard to muse joyfully on that image, on that poor little girl suffering through that unbearable site, on deep secrets we carry with us far too long.  So, today, musers, I look at secrets and the ability to pop their power with disclosure, with honesty, with courage.

There really is nothing like sharing a truth we’ve hidden for a long, long time.  I remember thinking how awful I was for stealing one earring from Blake’s Department Store when I was around nine or 10 years old.  I felt such guilt, I threw it into the woods of Forest Park as I rode my bike home.  One earring – what was I thinking? Well, I was taking a risk and, mercifully, I never did become very good at theft; that Catholic guilt and shame can come in handy at the right moments.

But, for me, it’s never been a good idea to keep secrets, to hide. It’s too much work and my energy is used far better for so much else.  Recently, I have been trying to orchestrate a trip over the upcoming holidays for my little family.  I did not tell my husband until last week, knowing he might not be on board.  Alas, we’ve talked, we’re negotiating, we’re figuring things out.  That secret felt not like an elephant in the room, maybe a cat or dog.  But, still, it was there.

I like honesty and openness.

In fact, when I hear the saying, “We’re as sick as our secrets,” I concur, I agree, I know the effects of hiding and it’s right up there with having a hemorrhoid or cold sore. It hurts but only for me.  I really am the one suffering and, well, truth can be the Preparation H of relief.

So, dear musers, keeping a secret? About a dead body or an earring?  Do tell someone when you’re ready, someone you trust.  The relief will be glorious.  As for that ten-year-old girl? After decades, her revelation helped find the body of George Clarence Seitz who’d left his home in Queens to get a haircut and never returned.  That, my friends, is the power of truth and honesty; I muse joyfully you’ll solve your own mystery soon and reap the benefits of relief.

In November fourth’s New York Times, there is a story on page A22 that holds the line, “…When she was about 10 years old, she told officers, she had seen her mother’s boyfriend cutting up a body and burying it in the backyard.”

Yikes.  It’s hard to muse joyfully on that image, on that poor little girl suffering through that unbearable site, on deep secrets we carry with us far too long.  So, today, musers, I look at secrets and the ability to pop their power with disclosure, with honesty, with courage.

There really is nothing like sharing a truth we’ve hidden for a long, long time.  I remember thinking how awful I was for stealing one earring from Blake’s Department Store when I was around nine or 10 years old.  I felt such guilt, I threw it into the woods of Forest Park as I rode my bike home.  One earring – what was I thinking? Well, I was taking a risk and, mercifully, I never did become very good at theft; that Catholic guilt and shame can come in handy at the right moments.

But, for me, it’s never been a good idea to keep secrets, to hide. It’s too much work and my energy is used far better for so much else.  Recently, I have been trying to orchestrate a trip over the upcoming holidays for my little family.  I did not tell my husband until last week, knowing he might not be on board.  Alas, we’ve talked, we’re negotiating, we’re figuring things out.  That secret felt not like an elephant in the room, maybe a cat or dog.  But, still, it was there.

I like honesty and openness.

In fact, when I hear the saying, “We’re as sick as our secrets,” I concur, I agree, I know the effects of hiding and it’s right up there with having a hemorrhoid or cold sore. It hurts but only for me.  I really am the one suffering and, well, truth can be the Preparation H of relief.

So, dear musers, keeping a secret? About a dead body or an earring?  Do tell someone when you’re ready, someone you trust.  The relief will be glorious.  As for that ten-year-old girl? After decades, her revelation helped find the body of George Clarence Seitz who’d left his home in Queens to get a haircut and never returned.  That, my friends, is the power of truth and honesty; I muse joyfully you’ll solve your own mystery soon and reap the benefits of relief.