Apologize, Apologize!
I grew up in a house as a big and loud as a parade—the clamour resonated along the entire New England coastline. Calliope whistling, batons soaring, trumpets bleating, everything tapping and humming, orchestrated chaos but we could afford it. My mother was rich, her father’s money falling from the sky like ticker tape, gently suppressing the ordinary consequences of all that noise.