When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
When I was fourteen years old my family went on a one-week vacation to Vancouver. During the six months leading up to the vacation, my mother and her sister were enduring one of their occasional bouts of not being on speaking terms with each other, this one precipitated by a comment my mother made about her sister’s posture, perceived by my mother as a constructive expression of concern and by her sister as insensitive and mean-spirited. Simon, my father, and I were always acutely aware when my mother and her sister weren’t talking. During their time apart, my mother mentioned her sister at every opportunity, saying things like, “I wonder what Abbey is up to” and “Abbey would love this or that” and “I should really give Abbey a call” until finally she did call and both sisters lied and to