Myrna and Floyd came over every Christmas Eve with a bottle of single-malt Scotch for my father
and a gallon box of Gallo red wine for my mother. My folks stopped trying to figure out who they
were after the third year; they accepted the good cheer, company, and booze for the next 23 years.
I think Uncle Floyd was a junior high vice principal and Aunt Myrna was a church secretary