family tree

It's amazing how much you overlook in the name of familial ties. A little example ensues. I go on annual camping trips to the Adirondacks with my two male cousins, waaaay up in what is redneckishly known as bear country (I kid you not), where your nearest neighbor is more likely an unmarked grave than the people who own that cabin six miles down. My cousins and I sit in our one-room, candlelit hunting cabin and play cards until three in the morning. We get up at 4:30 AM to go fishing in canoes. We obtain ridiculous amounts of welts from various kinds of bugs. We eat more junk food than should ever, ever be allowed. It's usually the highlight of my summer.

There are a few details that threaten to give my utter enjoyment a little pause, however. When my cousins laugh when a pickerel saws open their finger with evil needly teeth, for example. Or when they demonstrate how our rifle really isn't that safe after all - by pointing it at each other. The famous game of let's-see how-close-we-can-get-this-lighter-to-your-eyelashes/hair is another interesting attribute. Humorous but worrisome tales of drinking mishaps send a little shudder down my spine. Even the fact that the first thing they do when they see an animal is to squint one of their eyes shut and yell "Blam!" gives me a twitch.

Usually, these things would undoubtedly make me tweak out, hugely so. But they are my cousins. I love them to death, and I love spending huge amounts of time with them, whether at the cabin playing poker or on the couch watching unrated comedies and eating Doritos.

We have an unbreakable and undeniable bond that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world - even though my eyelashes are still a little singed.