{Special thanks to Dorothy Hodges}

Genealogy: tracing yourself back to better people

Every family has some sap in it.

Friends come and go but relatives tend to accumulate.

Genealogists never die, they just lose their roots.

Genealogy: a hay stack full of needles, it's the threads I need.

I think my family tree has a few branches short of full bloom.

Research: what I'm doing when I don't know what I'm doing.

Take nothing but ancestors, leave nothing but records.

Shake your family tree and watch the nuts fall.

A family reunion is an effective form of birth control.

A family tree can wither if nobody tends its roots.

A new cousin a day keeps the boredom away.

Am I the only person up my tree … sure seems like it.

Heredity: everybody believes in it until their children act like fools.



I started out calmly, tracing my tree,

To see if I could find the making of me,

And all that I had was Great- Grandfather's name,

Not knowing his wife or from whence he came.

I chased him across a long line of state,

And came up with pages and pages of dates.

When all put together, it makes me forlorn,

Poor old Great- Grandpa had never been born.

One day I was sure the truth I had found,

Determined to turn this whole thing upside down.

I looked up the record of one Uncle John,

But then found the old man to be younger than his son.

Then when my hopes were fast growing dim,

I came across records that must have been him.

The facts I collected made me quite sad,

Dear Old Great- Grandfather was never a dad.

It seems that someone is pulling my leg,

I'm not at all sure I wasn't hatched from an egg.

After hundreds of dollars I've spent on my tree,

I cant help but wonder if I'm really me! - Anonymous


Dear Ancestor

Your tombstone stands among the rest;

Neglected and alone.

The name and date are chiseled out

On polished, marble stone.

It reaches out to all who care 

It is too late to mourn.

You did not know that i exist

You died and I was born.

Yet each of us are cells of you

In flesh, in blood, in bone.

Our blood contracts and beats a pulse

Entirely not our own.

Dear Ancestor, the place you filled

One hundred years ago

Spreads out among the ones you left

Who would have loved you so.

I wonder as you lived and loved,

I wonder if you knew

That someday I would find this spot,

And come to visit you.



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 great joy, I became the father of a bouncing baby boy. 

            My little baby then became a brother-in-law to dad and so became an uncle; then that also made him brother to the widows 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 grandma, 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!