When my siblings and I were children, we grew obsessed one summer with an old edition of the game Trivial Pursuit, which we found in our parents’ cupboard, out of date by about twenty years. As the game is wholly based on specific knowledge from a certain era — in this case, from the early eighties, the heyday of our parents’ youth — we were never able to play the game as it was intended to be played, since our knowledge of a decade long before our birth, especially as children, whose knowledge was limited in the first place, was especially limited, yet the lack of ability to properly play the game only caused our obsession to grow. The four of us would sit in a circle around the board, negotiating the allocation of the colorful markers, the pies that held the little wedges one might be awarded for answering questions correctly, which stood empty, as none of us were ever able to answer a single question. Eventually two of us would fill our markers with the little wedges, one of each color, and two of us refused to put a single wedge in our markers, knowing we hadn’t earned it yet, and I only realized much later that this division, between those of us who felt entitled to something we hadn’t earned, and those of us who enjoyed denying ourselves something we knew we could never earn, formed the entire basis of a more serious schism within the family.