Fall 1977.

That’s me.

The chubby 4-year-old with a green apple stuffed in his mouth while all my brothers and sisters posed, smiling and holding their hand-picked prizes. 

I was the middle child, the family piglet. Never put on the spit, but always poked at and made to feel NQR. My older siblings were twins and conniving little shits. I knew that from a pretty young age. Topher would mastermind actual shitty pranks with my younger brother that haunted me for years. His twin, Frances, would then psychoanalyze all the childish things I did to deserve such regular taunting. She was the evil version of Lucy on the Peanuts... and a whopping 10 months older than me.

Unlike the ultimate trio of evil, my youngest sister Judy was my instant best friend. I remember when she was born, the last of the Ellis kids. She was warm and drowsy and the first time I held her she peed on me.