Have you ever noticed how everyone in the South is related to each other? This is especially true in small towns. No matter who you meet, you are somehow related to them. Oh, it may take some sophisticated explanations on how you are related, but it’s the truth. Down here, there are such things as 17th cousin and fourth cousin twice removed.

If my mama and daddy hadn’t married they would still be related to each other. (I’m sure you’re thinking that explains a lot, but hear me out.) My mother’s first cousin married my father’s third cousin. So in a roundabout kind of way, they were related when they got married. Actually, they’re still related even though they’re divorced. It makes for interesting family reunions.

Growing up in a small town was quite conducive to seeing my family – especially the ones I didn’t know how I was related to.

Coming to Athens almost four years ago was quite a shock. Here, I had no family. At home, no matter what the problem, I had a family member who I could turn to.

Being alone in Athens was hard for me. I couldn’t go to Memaw’s house for dinner. I couldn’t con Aunt Cheryl into giving me a job. And I couldn’t run to my Pop when I needed extra cash. For the first time I had to find a way to make it on my own.

And I have. I blazed my own trails and found my own answers.

For once I wasn’t someone’s cousin, aunt, sister or daughter. I was just Alice. And I liked that just fine.

But I was still lonely for my family.

One day my friend Chandler invited me to go to dinner with him and his roommate, Tony.

Since I didn’t have any family to dine with I agreed. The thing you have to understand about Chandler is that he’s the guy you go into a restaurant with and never make it to your table because he knows everyone there.

Tony and I got tired of waiting so we went on to our table. We sat there awkwardly, as two people who have been thrust on each other in a social situation usually do.

"So," Tony said. "Where you from?"

"Newnan."

"My grandmother lives in Newnan!" he exclaimed. (We suddenly had something in common.) "And my cousin, Kim, just married some Coggin from Newnan, too."

A Coggin? From Newnan? Say it ain’t so!

"Tony," I said, barely containing my excitement. "I’m a Coggin."

"Oh, God," he replied. "That means -"

"We’re cousins!" I screamed. Hey, it doesn’t take much to excite me these days.

The restaurant got really quiet. Chandler, always one to be in the middle of things, came running over.

"What’s going on?" he said.

"We’re cousins!" we exclaim together. Chandler sat down. "What does this mean?"

"It means we’re having a family reunion right here, right now," I replied happily.

"But you just met," he said bewilderedly.

"So," Tony replied. "We’re each other’s people now."

(FYI – "people" is often used in small towns to indicate one’s family. For example, when you call home and tell mama and daddy you’ve met a nice boy/girl, they’ll say, "Oh, that’s nice. Who are his/her people?)

So, my last year in Athens will not be spent without family. My people are here.

I am no longer just Alice. I am Tony’s cousin, Alice.

And I like that just fine.

– Alice Coggin is recruitment editor for The Red & Black. Her column appears on Thursdays.