I would cringe about being outed as a “bad family”. In case the yelling, and couch out in the yard in suburban San Diego weren’t giveaways. We were a bad family. Even had some creepy roommates to prove it, but in the aftermath. I mean the aftermath’s aftermath, plus 25 years, I can appreciate what being the “bad family” gave me – not only a good set of lungs and the lack of self-control to use them – but an understanding that no we didn’t love each other, but at least none of us felt the need to lie about it.