The room went completely silent right after my father announced that I was no longer considered a real part of our family. Then my mother smiled brightly and slid a detailed list of eight children across the table while telling me to be useful for once in my life.

We were celebrating their fortieth anniversary in the private dining area of The Waverly Room which happened to be the most expensive restaurant in Atlanta. My parents sat proudly beneath a huge arch of gold balloons while my brothers and their wives joined my younger sister and several cousins in raising their expensive champagne glasses.