I once described my family as “six abrasive oddballs” led by “parents from Neptune and three siblings I never knew. All the kids ignored each other except when tormenting younger ones; meanwhile mom and dad orbited in ellipses that brought them into contact with us regularly but never intimately.” It’s a fair description, if a little on the warm and fuzzy side. Not that we dislike one another, or that we are unhappy as a family. We surviving siblings (brother Pete died in 2012) are just a bit prickly, with a side dish of antisocial and a healthy dollop of broken glass on top. I’ve never had an actual conversation with anyone in my family, ever, unless it involved the Cleveland Indians h
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