Two Degrees of Separation

When we go out to dinner, we rarely spend any time with my dad. He is inevitably cornered by either an old man wearing a World War II cap and wanting to reminisce about the those damn Japanese, or some flight school friend he hasn't seen in thirty-seven years. We usually regain his company around the time dessert is served. The conversation then generally goes one of two ways:

OPTION ONE:

Mom: "Who was that?"
Dad: "I have no idea."

OPTION TWO:

Mom: "Who was that?"
Dad: "You remember Steve Flockman!"
Mom: *Stares blankly*
Dad: "From Ft. Campbell? He was the S3 of the First and Two-Thirteenth?"
Mom: *Eyes glaze over*

My husband Andy is just as bad. No matter where we go, he finds someone to talk to, and then I am forced to listen to the sinuous thread of acquaintance that brought the two together. Andy is from a miniscule town in northern Alabama, with a population of approximately twelve (not including livestock), and yet, somehow, he knows someone who knows someone who knows the person he just talked to. He calls it "Two Degrees of Separation." It's always something such as, "That was John Flitterbottom! He's married to a lady whose mother used to assist with my grandfather's prostate exams!" And then he beams happily, warm with the knowledge that his social web is now that much more complete, while I stare at him in disbelief over my empty plate.

It gets worse when we visit Andy's hometown. After church on Sunday, or at any social function, we are bombarded with Andy's friends and relatives. I love meeting these people and really do enjoy putting faces to names and fleshing out the stories Andy's told me about his past, but invariably I am forced to listen to an introduction as long as "Moby Dick," i.e., "Honey, this is Mary Cogginhoofer! She's my mother's brother's second cousin's aunt! You know, Uncle Jack's sister!" And then my head explodes.

I like it when whomever I've just been introduced to departs, though. After gushing about how great it is to see him or her, Andy waves goodbye and then turns to me and, in a low whisper, tells me all the dirt. "Bye, Mary! Great to see you! *She's insane! When one of her dogs dies she makes soup out of the carcass!*" And then I laugh bemusedly, and it's on to the next old friend or distant relative.

All my family is across the country, so I feel pretty left out in the father's cousin's wife's brother area. I might have to start making things up when I introduce Andy to people just so I can feel better about myself.

ME: "Andy, this is June! She's married to my mom's aunt's husband's sister!"
JUNE: "No, I'm not. I'm just here to read your meter."
ME: "DAMMIT, June!"