But it also did something else. It smelled. The darn thing was made of real, honest to goodness rubber; a heady, pungent odor that took me back throug... the years. There I stood once again before my mother's middle dresser drawer, happily extracting one of her bras to take away for my own use while the family was away for the day. It was a heavy duty, industrial strength garment, providing the kind of the support needed by Carrie Nation as she wielded her massive ax against a solid mahogany bar. “And one more thing…” she said, looking straight into our eyes, “…neither your father nor anyone in his family can know about this.”We agreed. Seeing that, she smiled. The moment she turned, we went for a kiss. But she interrupted us yet again. To lighten the mood, our mother asked, “Just out of curiosity, when did all this start?”While my brother chose to stay mum about it, I spoke, “Remember a couple of years back when our cousins visited us, and you made all of us sleep on the floor. While. More

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