We drove all the way down to New Jersey one Christmas to see my Uncle Joey. He had a brownstone house in a hilly neighborhood. I remember thinking the house had such a strange design. In the window was the tree, already decorated. We went in and saw dozens of family members waiting for us. That night we had goose and sang some carols while Joey played the piano. He was pretty good. I had a warm, fuzzy feeling from the whole night, this strong feeling of being part of a family and loved by them. Then I fell asleep in a guest bed upstairs while the grown-ups stayed downstairs playing Scrabble.