My grannie and me, we were a team. In her eyes, I could do no wrong, because, well, to a point, that’s how grannies are supposed to be. You know, that unconditional love thing. It was only long after her death that I discovered, courtesy of a second cousin, that my grannie Irene was an alcoholic, and my granddad was a really nasty guy. Of course, growing up, I thought he was a great guy. For the most part, small children are naïve and see little, which in some cases, isn’t a bad thing. I was born in the Cajun part of ...