You Just Might Be A Genealogist If:

Stories and Poems Donated about Genealogy

Warning:  You Just Might Find Yourself In Here !

The

Madaris, Medaris, Medearis, McDaris, McDearis, Medaries

Family Tree Home Page

http://www.mindspring.com/~kellcin/index.htm

This Poem is my favorite Genealogy Poem by far.  I'm not a Grandma, but this poem describes me to a T !

this Poem was contributed by Gwen Edmonds

GRANDMA AND THE FAMILY TREE

There's been a change in Grandma

She's 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 now, or so he states,

That worst of all, he has to wash the cups and dinner plates.

Grandma can't be bothered, she's 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 Granddad's shirt, the flower bed's a sight.

She's given up her club work, the serials 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 did before.

The books are old and dusty, they make poor Grandma sneeze,

A minor irritation when you're climbing Family Trees.

 

The mail is all for Grandma, it comes from near and far,

Last week she got the proof she needs to join the DAR.

A worthwhile avocation, to that we all agree,

A monumental project, to climb the Family Tree.

 

Now some folks came from Scotland and some from Galway Bay,

Some were French as pastry, some German, all the way.

Some went on west to stake their claim, some stayed near by the sea,

Grandma hopes to find them all as she climbs the Family Tree.

 

She wanders through the graveyard in search of date or 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 were 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 record shows was hopelessly a crook.

Blacksmith, weaver, farmer, judge, some tutored for a fee,

Long lost in time, now all recorded on the Family Tree.

 

To some it's just a hobby, to Grandma it's much more,

She knows the joys and heartaches of those who 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 that 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.

 

We tried to change the subject, we talked of everything

But then in Grandma's voice we heard that old familiar ring.

She told him all about the past and soon was plain to see

The Preacher, too, was nearly snared by 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 quite 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 were filled with sorrow, our hearts sank 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!"

 

(Author unknown)

Contributed by Gwen Edmonds

"This gem was sent to me by the ever-helpful staff at McCain Library"

THE ADVERTISER NEWS, Wednesday, June 10, 1998, Page 6A:

"Meet Your Ancestors", by Dr. Betty Drake.

You Know you are a genealogy addict when...

*You break for libraries.

*You hyperventilate at the sight of an old cemetery.

*You would rather read census schedules than a good book.

*You are more interested in what happened in 1697 than in 1998.

*Moses, Dorcas and Caleb are household names but you cannot remember what to call the dog.

*You can pinpoint Sewickley, McKeesprot and Evans City, Penn., but you can't locate your state capitol on the map.

*You think every home should have a copier and a microfilm reader.

*You know every registrar of deeds in the state by name but they lock the doors when they see you coming.

*You store your clothes under the bed because your closet is full of books and papers.

*All your correspondence begins, "Dear Cousin."

*You have traced every one of your ancestral lines back to Adam and Eve, had it documented, and still don't want to quit.

Author Unknown

 Genealogy is my pastime, I shall not stray

 It maketh me to lie down and examine tombstones

 It leadeth me into still courthouses

 It restoreth my Ancestral Knowledge

 It leadeth me in the paths of census records and

    ships' passenger lists for my surnames' 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

 The curiosity and motivation, they comforteth me

 It demandeth preparation of storage space for the

    acquisition of countless 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.

contributed by Ashley Madaris

DEAR ANCESTOR

YOUR TOMBSTONE STANDS AMONG THE REST

NEGLECTED AND ALONE,

THE NAME AND DATE HAVE WORN OFF

THE WEATHERED MARBLE STONE,

IT REACHES OUT TO ALL WHO CARE

IT'S NOW TO LATE TO MOURN,

YOU DID NOT KNOW THAT I'D EXIST

YOU DIED....AND I WAS BORN.

 

YET EACH OF US ARE CELLS OF YOU

IN FLESH, IN BLOOD, IN BONE,

OUR HEARTS CONTRACT AND BEAT A PULSE

ENTIRELY NOT OUR OWN,

DEAR ANCESTOR, THE PLACE YOU FILLED

SOME HUNDRED YEARS AGO,

SPREADS OUT AMONG THE ONES YOU LEFT

WHO WOULD HAVE LOVED YOU SO.

 

I WONDER HOW YOU LIVED AND LOVED

I WONDER IF YOU KNEW,

THAT SOMEDAY I WOULD FIND THIS PLACE

AND COME TO VISIT YOU

AUTHOR  UNKNOWN

contributed by: Tammy Tinney Caine

The Story Tellers.....

        We are the chosen. My feelings are 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 they 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 story tellers of the tribe. All tribes have one. We have been called as it were by 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 the 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 facts. It goes to who am I and why do 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. So, as a scribe called, 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.

( Unknown Author )

Contributed by: Gene Alexander

MURPHY'S LAW OF GENEALOGY     

1. The public ceremony in which your distinguished ancestor participated and at which the platform collapsed under him turned out to be his hanging.     

2. When at last after much hard work you have evolved the mystery that you have been working on for two years, your aunt says, "I could have told you that."     

3. You search ten years for your grandmother's maiden name to eventually find it on a letter in a box in the attic.     

4. You never asked your father about his family when he was alive because you weren't interested in genealogy then.     

5. The will you need is in the safe on board the Titanic.     

6. Copies of old newspapers have holes occurring only on the surnames.     

7. John, son of Thomas the immigrant whom your relatives claim as the family progenitor, died on board ship at the age of 10.     

8. Your great grandfather's newspaper obituary states that he died leaving no issue of record.     

9. Another genealogists has just insulted the keeper of the vital records you need.     

10. The relative who had all the family photographs gave them all to her daughter who has no interest in genealogy and no inclination to share.     

11. The only record you find for your great grandfather is that his property was sold at a sheriff's sale of insolvency.     

12. The one document that would supply the missing link in your dead end line has been lost due to fire, flood, or war.     

13. The town clerk to whom you wrote for the information sends you a long handwritten letter which is totally illegible.     

14. The spelling of your European ancestor's name bears no relationship to its current spelling or pronunciation.     

15. None of the pictures in your recently deceased grandmother's photo album have names written on them.     

16. No one in your family tree ever did anything noteworthy, owned property, was sued or was na med in a will.     

17. You learn that your great aunt's executor just sold her life's collection of family genealogical materials to a flea market dealer "Somewhere in New York City."  

18. Ink fades and paper deteriorates at a rate inversely proportional to the value of the data recorded.     

19. The 37 volume, 16,000 page history of your county of origin isn't indexed.     

20. You finally find your great grandparents' wedding record and discover that the bride's father was named John Smith.

Contributed by Barbara Baines

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