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I lost my biggest fan on Friday night. Adele Lovorn Gammill and I were cousins in name only — a happy accident that started before I was born, when her mother Blanche Harp “cleverly snared” my uncle Jack Williamson (his words, not hers) in 1947. Adele was already 19, and newly married herself, but she immediately became a daughter to Jack, and a lifelong member of our tribe. The puzzling part of this equation is that I know Adele was born in 1928, so my calculator tells me she was 33 by the time I joined her on the merry-go-r...