Walking along the bike path which skirts Vineyard Sound in Falmouth, Massachusetts, Marash Girl noticed a family of three who had been posing for a photo, suddenly disappointed. "Need someone to take that photo?" she asked. "My iPhone is out of battery, so that won't help," replied the son. "No problem," answered Marash Girl as she pulled out her trusty iPhone. "I'll take the photo and text the photo to you," she replied, not believing that she had advanced that far into the world of the 21st century.
"Are you Native American?" asked the father. Marash Girl grinned, wondering whether he had asked the question because of her offer of assistance or because of her facial structure, the structure she had inherited from her grandmother, the structure she had inherited from her Kyrgyzian ancestors who had come from the little village of Kyrgyz, where, pesumably, the original settlers were from Kyrgyzstan. [Kyrgyzstan is bordered by Kazakhstan to the north, Uzbekistan to the west, Tajikistan to the southwest and China to the east.]
"He stops at every powwow he can find, looking for possible ancestors," commented his wife. "He's convinced that he has Native American blood!" Laughing, Marash Girl answered, "Well, you know what they say: it takes one to know one!" And then to the gentleman, "Did your family come over on the Mayflower? Yes? Well, there weren't many white women to go around in those days . . . "
The family nodded thoughtfully.