The Brady Bunch has never been off the air in 40 years, as Florence Henderson, aka Carol Brady, notes in the introduction to her memoir, Life Is Not a Stage. Henderson's book is a clear-eyed, forthright, compassionate, and fearless look back at her fascinating but occasionally troubled life and her journey to peace, serenity, and joy—decidedly not the life of Carol Brady.

Yet although she does talk about The Brady Bunch, one question is never addressed: Why are the six young Bradys never referred to as stepchildren, stepsisters, and stepbrothers? And where does the prefix "step-" come from anyway? Children on staircases? Here’s a look at Florence Henderson and how we talk about families.

Henderson's memoir

Life Is Not a Stage  is a clear-eyed, compassionate, and fearless look back at her life, which began in abuse and poverty and continued to fantastic success on Broadway and television, with more than a few bumps along the way.

Florence is one of ten children born to a Depression-era alcoholic father and a mother who abandoned the family when Florence was just 12. That Florence went on to embody motherhood so iconically in the 1970s classic The Brady Bunch while dealing with the lingering effects of unexpressed trauma, depression, and workaholism seems perhaps, somehow inevitable in the world of 70s television.

The book is a fascinating read, as Florence recounts her stellar Broadway career, when she rocketed to superstardom during the heyday of the Great White Way from her more than modest beginnings in a family marked by alcoholism, violence, and abandonment. Her resilience and can-do will-do attitude is impressive and inspiring, as she recounts generous friends who helped her grow from a farm girl with a heavy accent and a hardscrabble life to a wide-eyed drama student living in New York City, followed by early stardom in Oklahoma!, marriage, motherhood, and continuing success onstage and on the small screen.

Florence's tales of being a young working mother when most women didn't work are amazing, and the pressure she describes are pressures working moms stil deal with, almost 50 years later. Her achievements are all the more astonishing when she recounts her bouts with nearly crippling postpartum depression, and include not only continuing on the road in highly successful musical theatre productions but also becoming a favorite talk show guest and then the Today Show girl before Barbara Walters. Her voice is charming, and her stories are wonderfully evocative of a New York and a time long past, the late 1950s and 1960s, when Broadway stardom represented a pinnacle of success far, far more lofty than a television role--but television's energy beckoned the bold, like Florence Henderson.

And, of course, Florence talks about The Brady Bunch, revealing jaw-dropping stories of infidelity and dates with the actor who played Bobby Brady and with New York City mayor John Lindsey.

What makes this memoir special is the depth of Florence's understanding about herself and what motivated that long-ago woman to suffer, cope, and succeed the way she did. To an extent unusual among most celebrity memoirists, she has engaged in extensive self-reflection and analysis, leading to a sense of acceptance and compassion for herself and others that gives depth and resonance to her book.

I was lucky enough to meet Florence this past spring, at a BookExpoAmerica event.

I didn't ask her much, just expressed my admiration. We talked about how cold it was inside the Javits Center and laughed.

But I didn't ask a question that always puzzled me as a suburban youngster watching the Bradys. Why didn't anyone ever say the word "stepbrother" or "stepsister"? I grew up in the suburbs of Connecticut, land and era of The Ice Storm, Rick Moody's note-perfect evocation of that world. There were plenty of divorces, plenty of talk about stepparents, and plenty of stories about stepsisters and half-brothers.

I may never find out why that word never made it past the lips of the Bradys, but I did find out about its origins. Michael Quinion's World Wide Words once again gives a great capsule explanation: "step" comes from an Old English word referring to an orphan. And in Old English times, "orphan" meant anyone whose parent had died--either mother or father, not necessarily both. Quinon succinctly notes: "So someone who married the surviving parent became parent to the orphaned children, to the stepchildren, and so by an obvious extension of usage became known as a stepfather or stepmother."

Voilà! No hyphen. Clear explanation. Now, if only the Bradys had been a little clearer about what exactly was going on in that house with Sam and Alice . . .

What's your favorite book about a sitcom or sitcom star? And how do you feel about that "step-" prefix, anyway?

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Ellen Scordato has 25 years' book publishing experience as an editor, copy editor, proofreader, and managing editor. She's now a partner in The Stonesong Press, a nonfiction book producer and agency. In addition to her work at Stonesong, Ellen has taught grammar, punctuation, and style at the New School for more than 12 years in the English Language Studies department and taught English as a Second Language at Cabrini Immigrant Services.