General Chat

This is originally from a newsletter called Sons of Norway and recently posted on the London list. The nationality doesn't matter as we will all recognize what the author was saying:

GENEALOGY . . . . . . . . WHY??? We are the chosen. My feeling is that in each family there is one who seems called to find the ancestors. To put flesh on their bones and make them live again. To tell the family story and to feel that somehow those who went before know and approve. To me, doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the storytellers of the tribe. All tribes have one. We have been called as if it were in our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us: "Tell our story!" So, we do. In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told my ancestors, "You have a wonderful family; you would be proud of us."? How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me? I cannot say. It goes beyond just documenting the facts. It goes to who I am, and why I do the things I do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference, and saying I can't let this happen. The bones here are bones of my bone and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it. It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, their never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that they fought to make and keep us a nation. It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us, that we might be born who we are, that we might remember them. So we do. With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence, because we are them and they are us. I tell the story of my family. It is up to that one called in the next generation, to answer the call and take their place in the long line of family storytellers. That is why I do my family genealogy, and that is what calls those, young and old, to step up and put flesh on the bones.

Thanks for that Dwain....another beautifully written piece....I missed it when it was originally posted! Judy

Both very touching, I too, saw the second one some time ago, and found it very moving.. When standing in the churchyard, I shall think of these words..

Judy, this is all so true, I can relate to all of it!!! I like to think that my ancestors approve of what I am doing.

Judy and Dwain, The words are beautiful, just wish I could tell my family story as well as others can. I have stood by my English grandmother's grave - a grandmother I never knew and I can only imagine what her young life was like.

Judy,When I was a child my grandmother used to recite her family history all so and so begat so and so, for what seemed an age. I used to get very bored and did not learn from her. Now I know that she was the keeper of the family history. I wish I had listened more attentively. You are right there is one person in each generation who perpetuates the family oral tradition and keeps the ancestors alive. In this way we in the 21stC with our computers,are like those cultures where oral tradition has always been the norm. But we are doing it in a modern way It is interesting that thre has been such a surge of interest in Genaeology in comparatively recent times. I think we are feeling more and more detached from modern life and are looking to our ancestors to give ourselves a sense of identity Regards Rose

Judy & Dwain what beautiful words and so true happy hunting sandra

Hello, Judy and Dwain - what lovely words. I'm going to print them out and put them in our Family Tree books. Thank you for posting them! Glenys.

Thank you for some beautiful words. And Christine, I too stood before my "lost" grandmother's grave--she died at 21 and I never heard her name until I started family history 4 years ago. My thoughts go like this ---Discovering Daisy has been an emotional roller coaster. From the moment I discovered her name she has been a part of me. I seem to feel her behind every search I do, as if she wants her story told. Fanciful I know, but somehow compelling. Daisy is a part of what made me who I am, and that to me is what family history is all about. Wendy

Genealogy Grandma There's been a change in Grandma, we've noticed her of late. She always reading history or jotting down some date. She's tracking back the family, we'll all have pedigrees. Oh, Grandma's got a hobby - she's climbing FAMILY TREES. Poor Grandpa does the cooking, and now, or so he states, That worst of all, he has to wash the cups and dinner plates. Grandma can't be bothered, she busy as a bee, Compiling genealogy for the FAMILY TREE. She has no time to baby-sit, the curtains are a fright, No buttons left on Grandpa's shirt, the flower bed's a sight. She's given up her club work and the soaps on TV, The only thing she does nowadays is climb the FAMILY TREE. She goes down to the courthouse and studies ancient lore, We know more about our forebears than we ever knew before. The books are old and dusty, they make poor Grandma sneeze, A minor irritation when you're climbing the FAMILY TREE. The mail is all for Grandma, it comes from near and far, Last week she got the proof she needs to join the D.A.R. A monumental project all do agree, All from climbing up the FAMILY TREE. Now some folks came from Scotland, some from Galway Bay, Some were French as pastry, some German all the way. Some went west to stake their claims, some stayed there by the sea. Grandma hopes to find them all, as she climbs the FAMILY TREE. She wanders through the graveyard in search of date and name, The rich, the poor, the in-between, all sleeping there the same. She pauses now and then to rest, fanned by a gentle breeze, That blows above the Fathers of all our FAMILY TREES. There are pioneers and patriots, mixed in our kith and kin, Who blazed the paths of wilderness and fought through thick and thin. But none more staunch than Grandma, whose eyes light up with glee, Each time she finds a missing branch for the FAMILY TREE. Their skills were wide and varied, from carpenter to cook, And one, alas, the records show, was hopelessly a crook. Blacksmith, weaver, farmer, judge - some tutored for a fee. Once lost in time, now all recorded on the FAMILY TREE. To some it's just a hobby, to Grandma it's much more, She learns the joys and heartaches of those that went before. They loved, they lost, they laughed, they wept - and now, for you and me, They live again in spirit, around the FAMILY TREE. At last she's nearly finished and we are each exposed, Life will be the same again, this we all supposed. Grandma will cook and sew, serve cookies with our tea. We'll all be fat, just as before the wretched FAMILY TREE. Sad to relate, the preacher called and visited for a spell. We talked about the Gospel, and other things as well. The heathen folk, the poor and then - 'twas fate, it had to be, Somehow the conversation turned to Grandma and the FAMILY TREE. He never knew his Grandpa, his mother's name was.....Clark? He and Grandma talked and talked, while outside it grew dark. We'd hoped our fears were groundless, but just like some disease, Grandma's become an addict - she's hooked on FAMILY TREES. Our souls are filled with sorrow, our hearts sad with dismay. Our ears could scarce believe the words we heard our Grandma say, "It sure is a lucky thing that you have come to me, I know exactly how it's done. I'll climb your FAMILY TREE."

Wow Max that is some family..................Sue