by Carrie Classon I have been blessed with many cousins. My two cousins closest in age were both boys, Brian and Dane. We went camping and hiking together and stayed in the cabin up north. We all remember the day we made tea from red sumac berries, and — after we’d drunk about a gallon each — my Uncle Mike told us, “You know that stuff is a laxative, don’t you?” (For the record, it is not.) We are still close, although I marvel at how similar we seemed when we were young, and how serious and reliable they now seem compared to me. My mother had 10 siblings, and she was the third from the youngest, so most of my cousins are older than me. I remember my older cousins listening to the Beatles be
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