[wdfifteen]

When I was a kid I spent a lot of time with my cousin, let's call him John Steven Jones. Until we were juniors in high school we spent at least one afternoon together a week, working or playing or killing time and I considered him a friend. I knew he had been adopted, but we didn't talk about it much. In retrospect, I do recall my aunt Bessie Jones hovering over us a lot, but I thought she was just weird. He died last week. In his obituary his name was William James Smith and he had a brother, going by the name Smith, in another state. For 55 years I called him John, knew him as John, and his name was William. I have no idea why this woman would raise him from an infant, call him by a fictitious name, and apparently swear him to secrecy.