Abner Allen request for Rev. War Pension

The Elusive Ancestor

I went searching for an ancestor … I cannot find him still,
He moved around from place to place and did not leave a will.
He married where a courthouse burned, he mended all his fences,
He avoided any man who came to take the US census.

He always kept his luggage packed, this man who had no fame,
And every 20 years or so, this rascal changed his name.
His parents came from Europe … they should be upon some list
Of passengers to the USA, but somehow they got missed.

And no one else in this world is searching for this man,
So, I play geneasolitaire to find him if I can.
I’m told he’s buried in a plot, with a tombstone he was blessed;
but the weather took engraving, and some vandals took the rest.

He died before the county clerks decided to keep records,
No Family Bible has emerged, in spite of all my efforts.
To top it off this ancestor, who caused me many groans,
Just to give me one more pain, betrothed a girl named JONES!

Merrell Kenworthy

Genealogy

“We are the chosen.
It is my feeling there is one who seems called to find ancestors.
To me, doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of fact, but instead,
breathing life into all who have gone before.

“We are the storytellers of the tribe. All tribes have one.
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.

“Their love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence,
because we are them and they are us.
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.”

Author Unknown

The Tree of My Life

When I was yet but a child, the gardener gave me a tree,
A little slim elm, to be set wherever seemed good to me
What a wonderful thing it seemed! with its lace-edged leaves uncurled,
And its span-long stem, that should grow to the grandest tree in the world!
So I searched all the garden round, and out over field and hill,
But not a spot could I find that suited my wayward will.
I would have it bowered in the grove, in a close and quiet vale;
I would rear it aloft on the height, to wrestle with the gale.

Then I said, “I will cover its roots with a little earth by the door,
And there it shall live and wait, while I search for a place once more.”
But still I could never find it, the place for my wondrous tree,
And it waited and grew by the door, while years passed over me;
Till suddenly, one fine day, I saw it was grown too tall,
And its roots gone down too deep, to be ever moved at all.

So here it is growing still, by the lowly cottage door;
Never so grand and tall as I dreamed it would be of yore,
But it shelters a tired old man in its sunshine-dappled shade,
The children’s pattering feet round its knotty knees have played,
Dear singing birds in a storm sometimes take refuge there,
And the stars through its silent boughs shine gloriously fair.

Edward Rowland Sill

I’m My Own Grandpa

Many, many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, who was pretty as could be,
This widow had a grownup daughter, who had hair of red,
My father fell in love with her, and soon they too, were wed!

This made my Dad, my son-in-law and really changed my life,
For now my daughter was my mother, ’cause she was my father’s wife,
And to complicate the matter, even though 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 were my uncle, then that also made him brother,
Of the widow’s grownup daughter, who of course was my stepmother!

Father’s wife then had a son, who kept them on the run,
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter’s son,
My wife is now my mother’s mother and it make me blue,
Because although she is my wife, she’s my grandmother too!

Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I’m her grandchild,
And everytime I think of it, it nearly drives me wild,
‘Cause now I have become the strangest case you ever saw,
As husband of my grandmother, I am my own Grandpa!

Author Unknown

A Genealogist’s Prayer

Lord, help me dig into the past,
And sift the sands of time

That I might find the roots that made,
This family tree of mine

Lord, help me trace the ancient roads,
On which my fathers trod

And led them through so many lands,
To find our present sod

Lord, help me find an ancient book,
or dusty manuscript

That’s safely hidden now away,
in some forgotten crypt

Lord, let it bridge the gap that haunts,
my soul when I can’t find

The missing link between some name,
that ends the same as mine.

Curtis Woods

Ancestors

If you could see your ancestors
All standing in a row.
Would you be proud of them?
Or don’t you really know?

Strange discoveries are sometimes made,
In climbing the family tree,
Occasionally one is found in line,
Who shocks his progeny.

If you could see your ancestors,
All standing in a row,
Perhaps there might be one or two,
You wouldn’t care to know.

Now turn the question right about,
And take another view.
When you shall meet your ancestors,
Will they be proud of you?

Author Unknown

Genealogy Psalm

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.

Wildamae Brestal

Photos from Elder Hill ~ March 2009

Photos: Talking to Elder Hill on Christmas Day!

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