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Amanda Uhle, whose great-great-grandfather had bought mineral rights to an Appalachian tract in 1897, investigated her<b> </b>mineral rights in West Virginia. | Photos by Scott Goldsmith for POLITICO

Amanda Uhle is the publisher of McSweeney's. She writes about culture, politics and civil rights and is at work on Long Island, a reported history of her family.

I’m in the adventurous habit of answering the phone for unknown callers. Last May, I was surprised when I slid my finger across my iPhone and heard a slight hesitation followed by an Appalachian drawl. “Mrs. Uhle?” a West Virginian asked on the other side of the line, mispronouncing my last name and using the married honorific, which, though happily married, I never allow. The caller and his charming accent explained that I was an heiress. My great-great-grandfather had bought mineral rights to an Appalachian tract in 1897, and now those rights were mine. One-eighth of them, at least.

I’ve never inherited anything. When my parents died, I was left with a motley and unpleasant array of obligations — cleaning out rodent-infested storage units, sifting through years of unpaid bills — and dozens of unanswered questions about their mysterious lives. I also have the exaggerated yarns my dad constantly told, and my mother’s hazel eyes. There was no property. No fine china or financial estate. I’d never considered that anything at all would be passed down to me.

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