This was astonishing, joyous, and we laughed and laughed because in 2007 we had gone looking for the Revolutionary era Costner cemetery in Dallas, North Carolina, and when we knocked on a door a man came out and said (I will leave out his first name to give him privacy), "I'm Ccccc Costner." And he took us through the woods to the cemetery and gave us sweet tea afterwards. What are cousins for?
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