I see that the Simpsons movie has opened in theaters all around me, however, I don't think I will go. I have just come back from the real Simpsons family reunion in La Jolla, California, one of the most beautiful places on earth.

We have a reunion each year of just my brothers, their wives and me. It is a perfect way to get together and talk about things that happened while we were growing up.

It was interesting to me to see how differently my brothers and I see and remember things, although that should not be surprising since I am the next to the youngest and life was easier for me than my older brothers. They had already worked hard to help out at home. They also had been in a war while I watched from home.

I have to say my part was not easy either, since my mother worried so much about the boys at war. We were relieved when it was all over and all of them came back home.

I was a little disturbed when one brother said that I was filling my stories out with a little fiction. No way! But I realized that we were different people, looking at the same happenings from the place we each were, two different places.

It would be interesting to have each of us write our story of our life growing up in Swansea with no father and a mother who had to work very hard to raise all 8 of us. I am sure all stories would be different, details that I remember so clearly not remembered at all by some of them.

Getting older also changes how we look at the past. Maybe I glamorize it? I try to write honestly.

My sister was the oldest child and was married when I was 4 years old, so she and I were not close until we were older. She was never very close to our brothers, being married so young and having 4 children kept her busy.

When the war ended and the Simpsons came home, they were determined to make better lives for themselves and their families and they did succeed, most of them in the building industry. My oldest brother was a career Air Force man.

My sister worked at Cudahy packing house for years. I mostly worked at low-paying jobs, waitressing or the food service at schools, which allowed me to be at home when my 2 boys were home.

I guess I shouldn't expect my brothers to understand me or where I am coming from in my stories since we have lived such different lives. We do love each other and that is the most important thing.

Thanks to Harold and Virginia for having us.