By Grayce Connors
Lillian Diehl was the first American soprano to earn the title �diva� overseas and was the only stateside rival to the great European opera stars of the early 20th century. Her career soared to incredible heights and eventually the constant travel, publicity and the fact that she made more money than my father became too much for his masculine ego and he left her just a few weeks before she became aware of the presence of my brother and I inside her. When I was very young I remember asking her if she had cried when papa left to which her response was �Well of course you silly boy. I cried for almost 20 minutes dear, but then I had a rehearsal to attend.� Emotions became just another accessory to my mother. They were to be chosen carefully and worn always in the best of taste like any exquisite piece of jewelry from her vast collection.
My fraternal twin brother Michael-Allen Diehl followed my entrance into this world (appropriately enough right around curtain time, April 28th, 1905) by only 3 minutes but it might as well have been three years. From the nipple to academia to sex, I was always there first whether consciously or not. Outsiders were hard pressed to discern any major differences between us but from the crib onwards it was always I that got the first smile, the first tickle, the first handshake, and the first caress. As young children I would often make it a point to allow Allen to go first through the doorway or to put him in front of me when introductions were being made but my brother could never bring himself to accept or allow my handing him any opportunities to be noticed by others.
Mother never failed to return from any trip without bearing gifts and I remember that during one such return from Venice she presented us each with a beautiful hand crafted carnival mask as our souvenir. While I am certain that she put great thought into their selection, mine was clearly the more ornate and beautiful of the two. Allen smiled and thanked her every bit as enthusiastically as I, but I knew his smile hid a disappointment he might not yet be able to articulate. In our room that evening I pretended to like his mask better than my own and suggested that we trade. He refused at first but I insisted until he grudgingly obliged me and we set our respective treasures on our nightstands before going off to sleep. Somewhere in the middle of the night, his pride awoke us both and I found Allen at my bedside, about to place my original mask back on my nightstand.
�What are you doing Ally?� I ask him still half asleep.
�Nothing, I� I�m just trading back is all.�
�I don�t understand. It�s one in the morning. How long have you been up?�
�I haven�t been to sleep yet.�
�What�s wrong Ally?� I inquire suddenly quite awake with concern. �Are you ill? Shall I get Nanny?� I ask as I light my bedside candle.
�No. If I needed her I�d get her myself.� He says gently placing the mask on my night table and hastily returning to his own bed. �Good night.�
I get out of my bed and go to his side. �Allen, what�s wrong? I made the trade in good faith. I really like your��
