All the immediate Vanelli family members were loud and expressive. Except for Mom and me, that is. We both clung to our more quiet Scandinavian—Norwegian and Swedish—roots. On top of that, my biological father was of English descent. Consequently, loud and expressive was not in my gene pool, or part of my experience in the first five years of my upbringing. When I first moved in with my new family at the young age of five, I was on sensory overload. It seemed like everyone talked at once, and I couldn’t figure out how anyone heard what even one other person was saying. Eventually I sorted it out and came to love the way my father and siblings were so passionate about things. And Mom’s low-key demeanor kept it all from getting too crazy. I opened the door of my sister’s large, two-story house undetected and stood in the entryway, taking a second to inhale the combined smells of garlic, tomatoes, olive oil, and herbs. When I walked into the living room, Susan was the first one to grab on to me.
