Genes are a funny thing.
If you are unconvinced, let me explain.
I got a holiday card in the mail today from my aunt, uncle and cousins, who live in Texas - by choice. They LIKE Texas. Houston, in fact, which in my experience (I lived there for six years) is the armpit of Texas, which isn't a lovely place to begin with.
Enclosed in this holiday card from loving Lutheran relatives was a picture of all of them on A FAMILY ALLIGATOR HUNTING TRIP. Not kidding. I don't know if they ended up hunting any or not (I certainly hope not), but if I had to watch them try, I'd be rooting for the alligators. (Kidding. Maybe.)
Amazingly enough, my cousin's new wife went on the trip, which was about a month after they got married. Talk about a honeymoon!
How am I related to these people? Do I really share more DNA with them than I do with a banana? How can this be?
I am an agnostic, vegetarian, Native American Irish Jew, and a progressive person who will never set foot in Texas again unless it's a stop on a book tour. (On second thought, if I get anyone to publish my book, maybe I'll create a proviso in the contract that I won't sell it in Texas.)
Yet somehow I have family who are arch-Republican, Lutheran, and whose idea of a good time is a good ol' romp shooting at helpless animals in Louisiana.
Life is strange.
maybe you can convince them to go stingray hunting...
the above post was in honor of Steve "The Crocodile Hunter" Irwin, a man who never stooped to hunting alligators as long as there was a croc around. Crikey!
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