On a cold Halloween evening in Havre de Grace, Md., 64-ish years ago, my husband Joe’s parents received the ultimate trick — or treat — however you want to look at it.
I’d already heard bits and pieces of the story, but a few years ago, I pressed my father-in-law Pat for details: “It was hard to make ends meet back then, as I was in the Army band and Dolores was teaching school. When we found out about the baby, things got really tough.”
They lived in a small red and white mobile home not much bigger than the most meager modern camping trailer. It was ill-equipped for a baby and all the stuff that goes with one.
Pat shrugged his shoulders: “But what d’ya do? We made do.”
The delivery room labor went like clockwork, and as all about-to-be new fathers back then, Pat waited and waited until the attending nurse came out holding a fine healthy baby son. Before Pat could process the happy news, the doctor bounded through the double doors with a surprising development: an identical twin!
Pat said he mostly remembers the shock of him and his wife — and the doctor — but that soon gave way to a more practical matter. They needed a name for a second birth certificate. Quickly, they decided on Joseph Anthony, in memory of Pat’s older brother killed in World War II.
John Stuart, born first, says Joe was the Halloween trick as he appeared from nowhere. Joe counters he was the bonus baby, the treat.
Pat continued, “We had everything we needed to bring one baby home, not two.” As “first born,” John got the bassinette and newly knitted blanket, and Joe got the top drawer of a chest of drawers and a bath towel.
However, they didn’t have to make do for long, as the ecstatic Cornacchione family soon arrived in droves for peeks and extras of everything but space.
John was visiting recently, and I asked them how it was, having an exact double in school. I’d taught several sets of identical twins that I never could tell apart.
John said, “I was at my high school reunion last year with my nametag. A classmate said, ‘You’re messing me up. You’re wearing black shoes.’ “
Both sets of startling blue eyes lit up as John explained. “In early elementary school, Mom didn’t dress us alike, but we looked exactly alike. So to make things easy, she put me in brown shoes, and Joe in black.
Soon, their teacher began calling them John Brown and Joe Black. Their amused classmates followed suit. Not wanting to saddle them with perpetual nicknames, their mother switched up shoes and placed them in separate classes until graduation.
They agreed that being identical twins in a huge high school, with a senior class of 800, made it easier to meet people, especially females. Giggling girls would approach: “Soooo, you’re twins?” They’d roll their eyes: “Yeah, duh.”
John said he and Joe would occasionally switch classes to fool the teachers, but John stopped because Joe, playing “John,” would get his brother in trouble on purpose or use the identical twin card to his advantage.
One such incident came back to haunt John. Heading to school early one morning on a deserted country road, they were joking around and missed the turn. Joe made a U-turn and seconds later, blue lights interrupted the pre-school jocular mood.
Joe panicked. He’d forgotten his license. “John, quick. Hand me your license.” Startled, John complied. Weeks later, Joe went to traffic court as “John” and paid the fine.
After college, John underwent an intense Army officer entrance interrogation. A serious high-ranking officer grilled him: “There seems to be a problem with your application, Cornacchione. You claim you have never received a moving traffic violation?”
John answered honestly, “No, sir.” After repeatedly asking the same question and getting the same “no, sir,” the officer informed John of a traffic ticket on his record.
The light bulb came on. Rather than attempting to explain such high school nonsense, John simply said, “Oh, yes. I forgot about that.” It satisfied the military, as John retired as senior staff sergeant a few years ago.
Growing up, they shared a bedroom, a phone, a car and a traffic ticket. Now they share daily conversations on antiquated flip phones. They also share antique car parts and medical issues. That identical DNA has proven a pretty reliable medical thermometer.
I’m just thankful when I asked them what it was like being identical twins, they enjoyed telling their stories instead of giving me the sarcasm they handed out to those high school girls.
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JANELLYN B. CORNACCHIONE recently retired from a 40-year teaching career in three Pike County high schools.
