Shortly after my father’s passing, I was in Venezuela with Miss Addie (I spent most of my time trying to see the six miles over ocean to Trinidad). Caracas is a scary city albeit possessing beautiful boulevards. There were army dudes on every corner replete with AK47s or the like. We toured Bolivar’s home and Mom enjoyed saying his name as the natives did. My Mom’s dear friend Yvonne, late now, had a brutal life until she managed to outlive the perpetrators … she was fearful of people and even of some delicate conversations. Miss Addie, in her infinite wisdom, linked the scary city to the name Bolivar and extrapolated it to mean danger so that Yvonne could simply say “Bolivar” and we all knew to shift to another topic. Mom went to Gr. 8 when she was kept to home to work in the house. However, she was one very smart cookie!!! All of us should have “safe” words for those who need them.