A photograph from my childhood surfaced in my memories vividly today. I’m sitting at the very center of a long sofa, surrounded by relatives. I’m about 4 and the next oldest person is my 17-year-old brother, Martin. The rest of the cast, all looking at me, include parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles. (It was a very long sofa.) That photo remains, both in my album and in my mind, as an icon of the family dynamics, a visual representation of the family structure and a vivid documentation of the fact that I was a) the youngest and b) under observation.