Biology was one of the areas of study during my junior high school science classes. One of our assignments was to select one of several topics supplied by the teacher and develop a comprehensive report based upon biology. I chose to study twins.
We had several sets of twins on both sides of our family. My mom had two uncles, Henry and Ephriam, who represented her side. My dad’s side had several: Gail and Gwen, Lynn and Leslie, and a brother/sister pair whose names escape me. During my study I learned that there were two types of twins: identical and fraternal. Biology books will tell you the difference between the two.
Identical twins are those who originate when only one sperm cell fertilizes one egg. This zygote (the egg along with the sperm cell) divides into two, forming two embryos with the same genetic material. This results in two identical siblings that are born at the same time.
Fraternal twins are those produced by the fertilization of two eggs by two sperm cells. The result is two siblings that may be similar, or very different, who are born at the same time.
We have both types of twins in our extended family.
My study indicated that it was possible, but highly unlikely, that fraternal twins can be born at two different times.
I researched trends and birth order. When I learned that my dad was one month older than his sister, Gert, I asked my mom if Dad and Aunt Gert were fraternal twins. She said, “No.”
That’s the day that I learned about Tony Jerome.
Tony Jerome was a thirty-year old bachelor who lived in what would now be called a studio apartment above a movie theatre in Mt. Clemens. Sixteen year old Nettie sold movie tickets in the theater. That’s how they met. I don’t know how long they knew each other or how they explained Nettie’s pregnancy to Grandpa Tebo. I’ve been told that Tony wanted to marry Nettie but Grandpa wouldn’t allow the union.
Grandma Tebo was pregnant with her sixth child when this occurred. The two babies, Anthony and Gertrude, were born within a few weeks of each other in the fall of 1919 and raised as brother and sister.
That’s the story that my mother told me when I asked if my dad and Aunt Gert were twins. I spoke with my dad about it after hearing from my mom. The only other detail he added was that Nettie died the day after he learned that she was his mother. “I helped Pa dig a grave for Nettie the day she died.”
Nettie married another, closer to her age, a few years after my dad was born. His last name was Rondeau and I never met him. If there were daughters born to the couple, I don’t remember them. Two sons were born. Frank and George were my dad’s half-brothers. My sisters and I met these men, but no mention of the relationship was ever discussed. They were included at some, but not all, family gatherings. I knew them as friends of the family.
All of my aunts were no-nonsense women. They told it as they saw it. One Saturday morning when I was fifteen Dad drove me to Aunt Bern’s house to “wash her kitchen walls”. My Aunt Dutch had hired me to provide the service for Aunt Bern. My dad was just my chauffeur.
The gathering was large that morning. My Grandma Tebo was living with Aunt Bern and her husband, Uncle Gene. Both my Aunt Dutch and Aunt Gert were there. One of the Rondeau boys showed up with his wife. My Aunt Bern was baking cakes while I washed walls and the remaining members of the clan sat around the kitchen table and reminisced. I started my job by washing the ceiling and then moved from wall to wall. The table setters adjusted the seating as I moved around the room.
At one point in the conversation the Rondeau wife said something like, “Tony’s not really your brother.” to the gathering of girls. They turned on her and attacked full force. “He’s our brother and will always be our brother!” The Rondeau wife protested, and my Aunt Bern went after her like a lioness about to finish off her prey. My Uncle Gene grabbed Bern and held her tightly. If he hadn’t, I’m sure that Aunt Bern would have wiped the floor with her.
That’s the only time I was present when my dad’s family relationship was openly discussed. Tony was their brother. End of discussion.
Later in life I had the opportunity to “baby sit” my dad. That’s what he called it. He could no longer drive his car and upon a few occasions I spent the weekend with him while my mom visited relatives out of state. We never stayed home during our time together. We played cards at the senior center, drove to Windsor to play blackjack in the casino, or drove to visit one of my two Uncle Harry’s and their wives. (His sisters had all passed.)
Dad shared stories of his family during our rides in the car. He told me that Tony Jerome had a reputation of being mixed up with a rough crowd. He also said that he had heard that he had been “shot to death near the Detroit River during the 40’s”. That’s it. That’s all he shared.
During one of our rides he asked to go to the St. Peters Church Cemetery in Mt. Clemens. We only went once. We looked for, and located, the grave that he had helped dig for Nettie over sixty years prior. We also visited the graves of Ma and Pa Tebo. They are buried a couple of hundred yards from their oldest child.
On our ride home that afternoon we spoke briefly of Grandpa Tebo and his younger brother, Art. I grew up thinking that they were the only two siblings in the Tebo family. He spoke of George and Art’s other brothers and sisters. When we got home, I asked that he write their names on a piece of paper for me. He did, and I still have the paper. But that’s a story for another day.