"Ma," I said, a few days after my finding, when I was over at my parent’s house for a visit. "Mind if I look at your family albums?"

She looked at me like I was crazy. Normally, she had to force those things on us kids, as well as assorted guests; most notably any and all girlfriends I was crazy enough to bring home with me. "Um, sure, okay," she said, handing them to me. "Is everything alright?"

"Yep. Just wanted to see something, is all," I answered, cryptically. Really, I wanted to see if the girl in the picture at the club matched what my Grandmother looked like back then.

I scanned all the albums. They started at her mother’s wedding day and continued to the present. Grandma was a looker, even back then, but she was also quite appropriately dressed in all the photos. Conservatively, I’d even go so far as to say; and not a bathing suit to be seen, topless or otherwise. And though there was a passing resemblance, someone in a wedding gown or a matronly skirt and blouse can hardly be compared to a topless go-go dancer. It’s like that old apples and oranges argument, only with strippers and Grandmothers.

"Um, Ma," I said, looking up from the albums. "How come there’s no pictures of Grandma before her wedding day?"

My mother looked at me funny, but otherwise gave no indication that she had any idea of what I was getting at. "Well," she offered. "Cameras weren’t widely owned in her day. Not like today. Most people posed for professionals back then. Like for wedding and baby photos. And Grandma’s family was poor, so her wedding photo might be the earliest one there is of her. I suppose she may have a baby picture of herself somewhere, but not that I’ve ever seen."

Little did she know that a photo hung in the middle of the wall at the Condor Club that may or may not have been her mother. I’m sure she’d be less than happy about it. Of course, far be it from me to inform her of such a thing, I figured. So I simply let it go. But not before I asked one more pointed question.

"Ma, what did Grandma do before she got married to Grandpa?" I asked.

"Do? What do you mean do ?" she asked in return.

"You know. For a job."

"John, you know that women of her generation rarely worked. And Grandma was only twenty when she married Grandpa, so what could she have done before then? I suppose she helped out around her parent’s house, but other than that, I’d have to say she’s never worked a day in her life. Least not for money."

Oh to be so naïve, I thought.