The best that I can say about my family's history here in America is that it is long, dating back to the mid-seventeenth century when King Somebody granted a huge tract a tenable land in Virginia to an ancestor of apparently high standing. His name was Phillips. His offspring, the adventurers that they were soon after headed deep into the Appalachians and began inter-breeding as only true hillbillies of Anglo origin can.

Now, three hundred or so years later, the effects of inbreeding are beginning to fade and my clan have emerged from the woods to partake in the benefits of civilization--shoes, dentistry, and other modern marvels. We have, however, held firm to our blue collar tradition of poverty and starvation. My Grandfather remained a farmer practically until death. My Grandmother cooked everything from scratch. They had their own pigs, chickens, cows, and garden so that we knew the food was fresh. My Father, my brother, my brother-in-law, and all of my friends are blue collar workers of some sort. I am the only person I associate with, outside of school, that has been educated beyond high school.

My most interesting relative is undoubtedly my uncle. He is over sixty, but will not date women over fourty. The story grows more interesting, but I haven't the stamina to type it.