I grew up in a small town.  Actually, there was no town, just a few houses strung out down Route 23 near the dirt road named Elk Lick.  Between those living up the dirt road and the houses near the mouth of the Elk Lick, there were maybe two dozen families.  In reality, I grew up in a small county.  Doddridge County, West Virginia, had a population of around five thousand at that time, and most of us were related.  I can’t tell you how many times I’d go out with a girl and my mother would say, “You know she’s your cousin don’t you?”  I’d say, “How are we related?”  And she’d say something like, “Well her great-grandmother and your grandfather were first cousins.”

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