One late autmn afternoon, when I was a child, a letter arrived from one of my great aunts in Chicago. She said that Cousin Harry, whom we never knew, was coming for a visit. He was the son of a long dead aunt and he couldn’t take the Chicago winters.

At the time, my Mum, my Uncle, one of my Aunts, and I shared a flat. My Mum and I had one bedroom. My Aunt had another bedroom. My Uncle slept on the sofa bed in the lounge. It was crowded.

Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew showed up with a beat up suitcase. He was a small tired-looking man. His hair was thin on top. He had a haunted look. His eyes were sunken deep in their sockets. His cheeks were hollow. It was hard to tell how tall he was because his shoulders sagged so. He rarely laughed and reminded me of a character in the comic pages of the time, the Sad Sack. He was older than I had imagined. But then, my Gran had 7 sisters and he was the son of the oldest.

Harry had evidently never made a habit of work. As a matter of fact, Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew assiduously avoided anything that reeked of labour. He shared the sofa bed in the lounge with my uncle. Uncle had to get up very early every day, and he liked to have the sofa bed made up. Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew liked to sleep in late. My mother and auntie worked and I had school. We all had to tip toe around Cousin Harry-whom-we-never-knew.

As winter became spring, the routine started to wear on everyone, except Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew. Harry slept in and often had not made the bed when we all got home. I didn’t mind the unmade bed because I turned it into a fort. I would hide under it for hours. My imaginary fort/castle/cave was my refuge. I did mind that there no place for me to sit on the sofa and watch the telly. The flat had turned into the ‘house of whispers.’

The whispers were everywhere. When I walked into a room I would usually hear, “Femock der pisk, der kinder!” Which translated from Yiddish is: Shut your mouth, the kid!” Then, the conversation would get a few decibels lower, just below my ability to eavesdrop. All that I could discern was that something had to be done about Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew. He was such a shnorrer (user, bum). How to get rid of him? That was the rub.

This is where I came in. I had received a Clue (Cluedo) game for Christmas. I thought Clue was the greatest game and I loved to play it. Most of the adults had grown weary of playing Clue with me, but Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew was always willing. Cousin Harry always won, which probably accounted for his willingness to play. After a while even I grew weary of always being on the losing end. Then, one Sunday, we set up the Clue game and in a short time I solved the mystery, “Professor Plum did it in the library with the rope!” I did my happy winning dance. I thought that I’d wet my pants I was so happy.

Then Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew said, “You cheated.” That stopped me in my tracks. I said, “What?” “You heard me, you cheated!” I started to cry. At this point, my mother swooped in and acted very maternal (no small feat for her). She threw her arms around me, which was a shock since she never liked to touch me. “How can you accuse our little Anony of cheating? You’re a grown man. A grown man accusing a child! I’m shocked!” About this time my uncle weighed in, “Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew, you need to apologize to our little Anony!” Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew would not be moved, “Anon cheated and knows it! I’m the one who should get an apology!”

The argument accelerated after that and was entirely in Yiddish. Uncle said, “Waxen zolst du vie a tzibbele, mit den kop in drerd!”(May you grow like an onion, with your head in dirt! Literally: drop dead!) Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew yelled, “Du kenst kishen mein tuchis!” (You can kiss my ass!). And so on.

Finally, it ended and Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew was packing his bag and uncle was taking him to the train station.

Our little flat was quiet once again. The routine returned to normal almost immediately. The sofa bed was made every morning. I had lost my fort, but re-gained my place on the sofa. Life went back to its usual pace. I don’t know what happened to Cousin Harry whom-we-never-knew. We never heard from him again.

In answer to your question: yes, I had cheated. I had to beat him, just once.

(Spaulding/Groucho)
Hello, I must be going,
I cannot stay, I came to say, I must be going.
I’m glad I came, but just the same I must be going . . .

I’ll stay a week or two,
I’ll stay the summer through,
But I am telling you,
I must be going . . .

I’ll do anything you say,
In fact I’ll even stay!

But I must be going.

This fact I emphasize with stress,
I never take a drink unless - Somebody’s buying.

(All)
The Captain is a very moral man.

(Spaulding/Groucho)
I hate a dirty joke I do,
Unless it’s told by someone who -
Knows how to tell it.

(All)
The Captain is a very moral man.
Hooray for Captain Spaulding, The African explorer.

(Spaulding/Groucho)
Did someone call me Shnorrer?

“Hooray for Captain Spaulding” from the Marx Brothers’ movie Animal Crackers