a weekend with relatives at high altitude

i have seen four cats alive (black, white calico, ginger longhair, tabby with white socks), one cat dead (tabby with white socks, no relation). you can tell a half-feral barn cat from a normal housecat by how close it lets you get. of the living population, none of them let me get closer than three watchful yards. there's definitely a phenotype here. i guess that happens in all remote towns. my dad passed a lot to my brother and nothing to me but a tremendous set of eyebrows. i am told by several relatives that i look like my mom, whose people are not two-hundred-year locals--being a different flavor of white is enough to be a little foreign here. i never fully remember these facts until i come back. i try not to seem too, uh, "different" in flyover country. my folks can at least be trusted not to care very much. they don't understand me, but they are never mean. my dad says his accent could be pinpointed to this town when he was young. kids from other schools and counties could hear…