An Appalachian Tale? Not...

We were gone this weekend to Knoxville, Tennessee, for our good friend Renee's 40th birthday. Knoxville is just across the state line from North Carolina, over the Blue Ridge or Appalachian range. It's a pretty drive, and though the Appalachians are an old range, their slopes can still be impressive. From Chapel Hill, it's a good five hours,and we pass through towns I'd like to have the time to really explore, Winston-Salem, High Point and Hickory (where all that furniture is made), then Asheville.

The party was a great bash, awesome music and lots of nice smart and interesting people--of which we only knew the birthday girl. Renee's mother made her a scrapbook with some terrific photos of Renee in various phases of self-discovery and hairdos. Somewhere in there a caption read that Renee had lived in Anderson, California. Renee had a long-time friend whom she had met in community college, Bridget, who made the drive all the way down from New Jersey with her husband Micah. As Bridget leafed through the album, she happened to mention that she had relatives in Anderson too, named Pace. Mike, several feet away, happened to overhear the comment, and turned to talk to her, given that Mike's best friend Clay is a Pace. Well, after some excited conversation and a cell phone call, it was confirmed that Mike's best friend is cousins with Renee's oldtime girlfriend. It would be an Appalachian tale, but none of the players are!

Perhaps we should all make develop the habit of randomly mentioning who our cousins are, and we would find that we all have cousins in common, or perhaps we are all cousins.