It’s not everyday that you learn something that shakes the very foundation of your relationship. Something that would make your closest friends turn their head in horror. Something that they dedicate whole weeks of Dr. Phil shows to—or so I’ve heard, as I wouldn’t know what the hell that show is about since I’ve never watched it.
I don’t know to easily put this, so I’m going to just come out and say it. Sarah and I are related.
Okay, okay. Not “related” so much as distantly, distantly, distantly related. Through marriage. Through two marriages, actually. Through two marriages and many levels of ancestry. I’ve mapped it out, and the connections wouldn’t even all fit on one tree. It’s more like one of those interconnecting grand Sequoia multi-tree organisms. But still, it was a ‘whoa’ moment.
The details of how we figured it out are too confusing to lay out here. But I’ll summarize the end result. Sarah has a second cousin on her dad’s side, Lisa. Lisa’s mom has a second cousin, Caroline. Caroline’s husband has a first cousin, Peter. That’s my dad. In other words, Sarah’s second cousin’s third cousin’s second cousin is me. In other words, our cousins are cousins.
Does this shock anyone else? I seem to be the only one I’ve told who finds this bizarre. I shouldn’t, really. Coincidences like these seem to be the norm for Sarah and me. Well, there hasn’t been a coincidence quite like this, though we’ve found other non-familial connections between us that seem nothing short of karmic. Maybe this is God’s way of saying, “I wanted to make sure you two met, so if all else failed, perhaps you’d find each other at a family reunion.”
Good thinking, God!
(Note: Kentucky was chosen as the state of ridicule due to my having grown up in Indiana, where every schoolboy knows that Ohio River forms the border between depravity and high culture. I’m sure in Louisville it’s just the opposite, so feel free to replace ‘Kentucky’ with the backwater state of your choice.)