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Byline: Janelle Brown
My grandmother Jean told a dirty joke exactly once: at a formal family dinner, not long before she died. "I know one," she piped up, interrupting a noisy conversation that I had been having with my cousins about bad jokes. A table of ten heads swiveled to stare at my tiny grandmother, prim in her St. John knits, her gray hair fluffed to cotton perfection from her weekly visit to her hairdresser. "Three nuns died and went to Heaven," she began, her eyes wrinkling naughtily. The joke deteriorated from there-she botched the punch line, something about a nun's last wish to get laid-but it was effective nonetheless: The fact that our family's ...