Howdy, cousin.
My dad is somehow related to Francis Scott Key, in a roundabout southern sort of fashion.
This will only mean something to older Mets fans. My aunt’s father was the Shea Stadium Sign Man (about 1/3 of the way down, between the screaming Beatles fans and the Pope). He is a graphic artist and made signs that he held up in the stands at Shea for more than 15 years. He’s a really nice guy. Just saw him last Christmas. He quit his unofficial job as Sign Man after problems with the Mets’ front office, which didn’t like his signs when the team was playing badly. From a NY Newsday article (not available on-line) from 1993:
Somewhere far aways from the sherif’ an his boys.
I don’t have to really shoot anyone right?
Some of Jesse James’ money is supposed to still be in a bank somewhere if I was told right but who knows
My family tree includes Eddie Cicotte of Black Sox fame. I hate baseball and corruption so Eddie and I would not have had too much to talk about at any family reunions. Well, ok, if I had been born before he died that is.
Damn I wish I could say that.
My cousin is a colorist for DC and Marvel comics. Thus my very uncommon surname is in a couple of books every month.
Got a couple of country singers in my line.
Keith Whitley’s father and my father were first cousins. I actually played with the Whitley youngn’s when I was a nipper.
Ricky Skaggs and I are third cousins. When we lived back east I worked for a bit with his father.
President Andrew Jackson is a relative. His mother’s brother is one of my many times removed grandfathers.
I have a cousin in Ashland, KY who is gu-gillionaire coal miner/owner.
Another cousin teaches at NCState and is the world’s leading expert on drainage.
I know Ed Begley’s sister.
Once shook hands with Jimmy Carter.
Mom says we’re related to Alexander Hamilton.
No. No shooting, I would hope as decendents of that coward that we would have cleaned up the gene pool by now. 
(Although, a water balloon fight could be fun)
I remember as a youth hearing that he had stashed some money in a cave in Wyoming, kind of deep into it where you had to swim through a tunnel and hold your breath for two minutes, pop out the other side and that he stashed it into a crevice in the cave wall. I spent the summer of '85 at the library doing research on it, and practicing holding my breath for two minutes (I did it!) and then planning to run away for a few weeks to go look for it. I saved allowance money for a bus ticket out there and to pay for a motel.
The plan died on the vine when I found out that no motel would rent to a 12 year old. 
Meh, someone probably already got to the money anyway.