A popular slam at Forks is that we are all related to each other; inbred if you will. Kissing cousins. Well, the haters of Forks can hate all they want, but this simply is not true. I can think of five people that I’m not related to here in town.

I’m sure I could round up three more non-relatives if I tried hard enough. So there. The myth is false. We’re not all related. Though some of us (me) did have to order their husbands from Ohio —just to be on the safe side as I’ve mentioned before.

This was the problem when Mick Dodge came out on television saying he had lived here for 25 years. No one had heard of him and no one was related to him. We’re not ALL related, but we’re all related to someone. Obviously he was a fake without even one cousin here, right?

Well, in a strange turn of events, I have come to the knowledge that I am slightly related to Mick Dodge. I’m not even making this up. This is not just my fake claim to fame, it’s true. Apparently, my gram’s brother was married to Betty Dodge, who is Ron Dodge’s sister and Mick Dodge’s aunt. We’re practically first cousins … twice removed … three times reinstated … by marriage. Or something like that.

OK, so we’re not THAT closely related, but we’re connected. Sure, we could get married in West Virginia with no questions asked, but then again EVERYONE can get married in West Virginia with no questions asked. You can marry your horse in West Virginia if you so desire, which I’m not even sure how that works because a horse can’t hold a pen to sign its name, but who am I to judge? The point is West Virginia wouldn’t even bat an eye at “barely related by marriage.”

Either way, now I’m feeling like a crappy relative. The guy practically lives right next to me AND is my cousin and what do I do? I invite everyone over to Thanksgiving at my house, except him. I’m sure his feelings were very hurt by this. Imagine being the only one in your family not invited. How rude of me. The poor guy probably had to have squirrel and maggots for his holiday meal. Forget the fact that he prefers this food anyway, it’s still sad. I didn’t even send a Christmas card.

So now I’m wondering if it would be awkward to call and ask for money. I mean, I’ve treated him pretty poorly as a relative, but no one is really family until there is borrowed money involved. Since my bank accounts are currently running on empty, I’m going to have to borrow from him. The only problem now is how to find the guy. The obvious answer is to just go wandering through the Hoh (feet from my house), but the woods are scary. There are bears and cougars and really big frogs!

I think I’m just going to take my chances that he’s an avid reader of my column.

Mick, my favorite cousin, I need a loan. I’ll pay you back in a week, pinkie swear!