My mother, Lorraine, immediately began critiquing the placement of the gift table, while my father, Kenneth, made himself comfortable in my best lawn chair with a beer. Uncle Harold arrived with Aunt Sheila, both of them already laughing about something before they even got out of their car. I should have recognized the tone of that laughter. It carried a mean edge I’d grown up hearing, usually right before someone became the target of what they called “family fun.”