My Family Didn’t Want Me To Know Who My Grandpa Was. At 13, I Finally Found Out Why.
My father, William Jovino, was born later that year, and together, Josephine and baby Billy, as he was affectionately called, returned to Brooklyn to live with Josephine’s parents. It was 1947, and being a single mother was not necessarily unusual because of the vast number of fathers who died in the war, but openly having a child outside of wedlock was not socially acceptable. Due to fears about how my father would be received in the neighbourhood, my great-grandparents firmly encouraged my grandmother to change not only my father’s name, but also hers, to Short, Cecil’s surname, thereby giving the impression that she was previously married and that Billy was born legitimately.