Sensitive subjects were rarely mentioned Sat our house, but three were particularly taboo — money, my father's being Jewish and sex. None of the three was ever articulated by any of us in the family; in fact, nothing difficult or personal was discussed among us. There was such an aversion to talking about money or our wealth that, ironically, there was, in some odd ways, a fairly spartan quality to our lives. We were not showered with conspicuous possessions, elaborate toys or clothes. At one point, when my sister Florence was 11, my mother wrote in her diary that she had gotten Flo very modest presents for her birthday — “books, pralines and other simple things.” Though Mother felt that she had been a bit mean, she also felt that “it is the best way to continue their chance for happiness to restrain the desire for possessions.”

Remarkably, the fact that we were half Jewish was never mentioned any more than money was discussed. I was totally — incredibly — unaware of anti-Semitism, let alone of my father's being Jewish. I don't think this was deliberate; I am sure my parents were not denying or hiding my father's Jewishness from us, nor were they ashamed of it. But there was enough sensitivity so that it was never explained or taken pride in. Indeed, we had a pew in St. John's Episcopal Church — the president's church, on Lafayette Square — but mainly because the rector was a friend of the family. When I was about 10, all of us Meyer children were baptized at home to satisfy my devout Lutheran maternal grandmother, who thought that without such a precaution we were all headed for hell. But for the most part, religion was not part of our lives.