My parents were an interesting pair. Mother, who we later referred to as “Sherrie” or “Ma,” was a Jewish American art therapist. Nothing boxy like “Mom” could ever suit her.

Edward Gorey tales colored our childhood. The Wuggly Ump, who devours brass doorknobs, mud, carpet tacks, and children, figured large in our lives. We imagined its beady eyes, its grin filled with pointed teeth.