General Chat

and this

This poem was a Christmas present from a VERY young girl to her favourite grandparents This is a special poem for my super, My only Nana and Grandad Cooper. You always look forward to cuddling me And laughing and bouncing me up on your knee. When you do this, I can't help but laugh, How funny you are - you don't know the half! I suffer excited giggling fits, Oh, Nana and Grandad, with me you're a hit! I'm watching you, Nana, outside at the border, Weeding the blooms into some kind of order, And on the lawn, Grandad, you practise your swing, Although even then, you can't hit a thing! But I know there's something that you never do: Grandad, that wallpaper's long overdue For replacing, and Nana, complete them at last - Those curtains you began way back in the past. Now, it has to be said, I know I'm a cutie, (Inheriting Mummy's great natural beauty) But I think it's time that I laid down the law: I'm not an excuse for not doing your chores! So next time we're playing and each having fun, Ensure the decorating has been done, And then I'll know that you're definitely Exclusively here to enjoy only me! Lots of Love Ellie xxx

Bob Your poem by Anon reminds me of a real-life situation I came across when I was a counsellor. Very briefly, the family had a "skeleton in the cupboard" of which they were all deeply ashamed and secretive to the extent that it was spoiling their lives and tremendous tensions were building up. What happened was that, back in the 1940s, one of four sons died in the war and left a widow and children. The father of the dead man co-habited with the widow (both of whom long deceased) and another child was born of the union. Very traumatic in those days, particularly as religion came into the equation. However, a happy ending was achieved and all came to terms with it and were re-united. Now they laugh about it - after all its only history.

As a further restructuring, today's global challenges require the North Pole to continue to look for better, more competitive steps. Effective immediately, the following economy measures are to take place in the "Twelve Days of Christmas" subsidiary: - The partridge will be retained, but the pear tree never turned out to be the cash crop forecasted. It will be replaced by a plastic hanging plant, providing considerable savings in maintenance; - The two turtle doves represent a redundancy that is simply not cost effective. In addition, their romance during working hours could not be condoned. The positions are therefore eliminated; - The three French hens will remain intact. After all, everyone loves French birds; - The four calling birds will be replaced by an automated voice mail system, with a call waiting option. An analysis is underway to determine who the birds have been calling, how often and how long they talked; - The five golden rings have been put on hold by the Board of Directors. Maintaining a portfolio based on one commodity could have negative implications for institutional investors. Diversification into other precious metals as well as a mix of Gilts and high technology stocks appear to be in order; - The six geese a-laying constitutes a luxury which can no longer be afforded. It has long been felt that the production rate of one egg per goose per day is an example of the decline in productivity. Three geese will be let go, and an upgrading in the selection procedure by personnel will assure management that from now on every goose it gets will be a good one; - The seven swans a-swimming is obviously a number chosen in better times. Their function is primarily decorative. Mechanical swans are on order. The current swans will be retrained to learn some new strokes and therefore enhance their outplacement; - As you know, the eight maids-a-milking concept has been under heavy scrutiny by the EOC. A male/female balance in the workforce is being sought. The more militant maids consider this a dead-end job with no upward mobility. Automation of the process may permit the maids to try a-mending, a-mentoring or a-mulching; - Nine ladies dancing has always been an odd number. This function will be phased out as these individuals grow older and can no longer do the steps; - Ten Lords-a-leaping is overkill. The high cost of Lords plus the attitude of the present Government prompted the Compensation Committee to suggest replacing this group with ten out-of-work MPs. While leaping ability may be somewhat sacrificed, the savings are significant because we expect an oversupply of unemployed Mps next year; - Eleven pipers piping and twelve drummers drumming is a simple case of the band getting too big. A substitution with a string quartet, a cutback on new music and no uniforms will produce savings which will drop right down to the bottom line; We can expect a substantial reduction in assorted people, fowl, animals and other expenses. Though incomplete, studies indicate that stretching deliveries over twelve days is inefficient. If we can drop ship in one day, service levels will be improved. Regarding the lawsuit filed by the Law Society seeking expansion to include the legal profession ("thirteen lawyers-a-suing"), action is pending. Lastly, it is not beyond consideration that deeper cuts may be necessary in the future to stay competitive. Should that happen, the Board will request management to scrutinize the Snow White Division to see if seven dwarfs is the right number. I believe that the somewhat antiquated method of transport employed by our Chairman would also bear some scrutiny costwise (Reindeer stabling is rapidly becoming prohibitively expensive.

Genealogy is my pastime, I shall not stray. It maketh me to lie down and examine half-buried tombstones. It leadeth me into still libraries. It restoreth my ancestral knowledge. It leadeth me into the paths of census records and ships' passenger lists for my surname's sake. Yea! though I walk through the shadows of research libraries and microfilm readers, I shall fear no discouragement, for a strong urge is within me. It demandeth preparation of storage space for the acquisition of documents. It anointest my head with burning midnight oil. My family group sheets runneth over. Surely, birth, marriage and death dates shall follow me all the days of my life. And I shall dwell in the house of a family history seeker forever! (attributed to Linda Curtis, Nova-Scotia genealogical list)

Thought of She when I saw this!!!! GRANDMA'S DISEASE Author unknown 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 the FAMILY TREE. 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 babysit, 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 library 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. 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, who 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 FAMILIY 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, 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.

Dear Santa: Don't bring me new dishes; I don't need a new kind of game. Genealogists have peculiar wishes; For Christmas I just want a surname. A new washing machine would be great, But it isn't the desire of my life. I've just found an ancestor's birth date, Now I need the name of his wife. My heart doesn't yearn for a ring that would put a real diamond to shame. What I want is a much cheaper thing: Please give me Martha's last name. To see my heart singing with joy, Don't bring me a red leather suitcase. Bring me a genealogist's toy: A surname, with dates and a place. == Author Unknown

bob my dads got "my own grampa on 78" lol it made my kids giggle when they were young keep it up susie

The first one - I wonder if Terri was ever going to tell us about Santa's hobby?? The second one - that explains a great deal about elusive ancestors!!

Nice one Bob. Ros

I am my own grandpa! Many many years ago when I was twenty three, I got married to a widow who was pretty as could be. This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red. My father fell in love with her, and soon the two were wed. This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life. My daughter was my mother, for she was my father's wife. To complicate the matters worse, although it brought me joy, I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy. My little baby then became a brother-in-law to dad and so became my Uncle, Though it made me very sad. For if he was my uncle, then that also made him brother To the widow's grown-up daughter who, of course, was my step-mother. Father's wife then had a son, who kept them on the run. And he became my grandson, for he was my daughter's son. My wife is now my mother's mother and it makes me blue. Because, although she is my wife, she's my grandmother too. If my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild. And every time I think of it, it simply drives me wild. For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw. As the husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa!

It was the night before Christmas when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse. The dining room table with clutter was spread With pedigree charts and with letters which said.... "Too bad about the data for which you wrote Sank in a storm on an ill fated boat." Stacks of old copies of wills and the such Were proof that my work had become much to much. Our children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads. And I at my table was ready to drop From work on my album with photos to crop. Christmas was here, and of such was my lot That presents and goodies and toys I forgot. Had I not been so busy with grandparents' wills, I'd not have forgotten to shop for such thrills. While others had bought gifts that would bring Christmas cheer; I'd spent time researching those birthdates and years. While I was thus musing about my sad plight, A strange noise on the lawn gave me such a great fright. Away to the window I flew in a flash, Tore open the drapes and I yanked up the sash. When what to my wondering eyes should appear? But an overstuffed sleigh and eight small reindeer. Up to the housetop the reindeer they flew, With a sleigh full of toys, and old Santa Claus too. And then in a twinkle, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of thirty-two hoofs. The TV antenna was no match for their horns, And look at our roof with hoof-prints adorned. As I drew in my head, and bumped it on the sash, Down the cold chimney fell Santa - KER-RASH! "Dear" Santa had come from the roof in a wreck, And tracked soot on the carpet, (I could wring his short neck!) Spotting my face, good old Santa could see I had no Christmas spirit you'd have to agree. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work And filled all the stockings, (I felt like a jerk). Here was Santa, who'd brought us such gladness and joy; When I'd been too busy for even one toy. He spied my research on the table all spread "A genealogist!" He cried! (My face was all red!) "Tonight I've met many like you", Santa grinned. As he pulled from his sack a large book he had penned. I gazed with amazement - the cover it read "Genealogy Lines for Which You Have Plead." "I know what it's like as a genealogy bug," He said as he gave me a great Santa Hug. "While the elves make the sleighful of toys I now carry, I do some research in the North Pole Library! A special treat I am thus able to bring, To genealogy folks who can't find a thing. Now off you go to your bed for a rest, I'll clean up the house from this genealogy mess." As I climbed up the stairs full of gladness and glee, I looked back at Santa who'd brought much to me. While settling in bed, I heard Santa's clear whistle, To his team which then rose like the down of a thistle And I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight, "Family History is Fun! Merry Christmas! Goodnight!"

Sadly by "Anon"