Movie review: Junebug

Ten years ago, I went to my grandmother’s funeral in Southwestern Ohio. My father was the youngest of nine children, which means that both he and I have cousins old enough to be our parents, and that I’m part of an extended family of which I have met maybe 10 percent. During the final service at the gravesite, I remember looking around at the motley collection of mouth-breathers, rednecks, slack-jaws and hill-williams that made up my family. Being of Scotch-Irish descent, I thought to myself, “You know, if we were back in the old country centuries ago, these people would be my clan.” The thought gave me the shivers.

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