In this respect, George Howe Colt is my opposite, a family man's family man, an ardent loyalist, both by temperament and heritage, to rituals of continuity that bind him to five generations of his extended family. Not a lineage of reprobates or adventurers, just men and women who wanted to strike out on their own, preferably at a good safe distance beyond the family tether. But I descended from a branch in which the impulse to bolt was stronger than the desire to stay in the harness, or even to hold the reins. Some branches of my family have been on American soil, mostly plowing it, long enough for such continuity to have been possible, theoretically. LIKE most peripatetic Americans, I sometimes wonder how I would have fared within a large extended family whose unbroken generations - mad aunts, bachelor uncles, disgraced cousins included - all homed toward a fixed spot on the map, the unquestioned center of their universe.
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