No, Thursday's Out....

In December, I got an email from an extremely distant cousin, a person who signs her messages with her full name, followed by “Esq.” (From this I understand that she is a lawyer. Which is likely the point.) I’d heard from her a handful of times in my life, innocent little hellos, though we’ve never met in person. The email began, “Happy holidays, card coming soon, but first, we have to talk about a cranberry bog.” She was writing to let me know that I owned* one twelfth of a small, dormant cranberry bog in Mashpee, Massachusetts. She guessed this might be news to me, and she was right! And it was darned exciting news - I was, in the space of a few sentences, thinking about hopping on a plane and going to visit My Bog! But the story continued. It turns out that I inherited* my bit o’ bog in 2013, when my dad died. He inherited* it back in 1988, when his mother died Without A Will. (Cue tense violin tremolo.) *The asterisks above are there because, to be honest, I am not really sur...