I am descended by blood from a great many families of the northern Midwest. Paschals, Grants, Fulloves, Wests, Hazelwoods, Byirts ... all can technically call me kindred.

To be really honest, I don't have much to do with the lot of them. When I got married in 2000, I worked very hard to find address information on every single one of them, from my long estranged father to my half sisters to cousins who had, for a time, grown up with me as brothers. I sent each one an invitation, most with special, handwritten notes (I loathe anything written by hand, I try to be all digital), and mailed them with the utmost care.

Of them, only two even bothered to respond. None of them showed up. My mother and brother represented the only genetic links to me at my own wedding, as my now-ex-wife was represented by a virtual phalanx of relatives. So, (save some very specific exceptions, including but not limited to my mother, my brother Chazz and my aunt Yvonne) bugger the lot of 'em.

I had vague plans to talk about some of my notorious ancestry, post pictures of relatives and what not. In retrospect, this statement seems to take care of most of it in a nutshell. If I can find all the photos of my mother and brother Chazz, I'll toss them into the mix with pages (as I have not cut them off). I'm not terribly organized with photos, though, so don't hold your breath.

• Never Miss What You Never Had: Part 1: ... sisters ...
  (a column I did about my non-relationship with my father's other three children)

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