Growing up in an extended family gave me limitless face time with grandparents who couldn’t pass each other in a room without scowling.  Every other grown-up relative at home had only one persona: My youngest aunt was always petulant with a noticeable disdain for me.  (My crime was usurping her position as the baby of the family.)  My second aunt, along with my parents were open-hearted, affectionate and oh-so-easy to love.  But the same Grandparents who indulged my whims and showered me with kisses were openly hostile with each other.  Leading me to love them separately while we lived together on Thatford Avenue, in our two-family house with the rusted front gate.