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
Spread out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved, I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.
"Why waste your money looking up your family tree? Just go into politics and your opponents will do it for you."
-- Mark Twain
"In all of us there is a hunger, marrow deep, to know our heritage - to
know who we are and where we came from. Without this enriching
knowledge, there is a hollow yearning. No matter what our attainments
in life, there is still a vacuum, an emptiness, and the most
-- Alex Haley, Roots
I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral
of a friend. He referred to the dates on her
tombstone from the beginning... to the end. He
noted that first came the date of her birth and
spoke of the following date with tears, but he
said what mattered most of all was the dash
between those years. For that dash represents all
the time that she spent alive on earth... and now
only those who loved her know what that little
line is worth. For it matters not, how much we
own; the cars.... the house... the cash. What
matters is how we live and love and how we
spend our dash. So think about this long and
hard... are there things you'd like to change? For
you never know how much time is left. (You
could be at "dash mid-range.") If we could just
slow down enough to consider what's true and
real, and always try to understand the way other
people feel. And be less quick to anger, and
show appreciation more and love the people in
our lives like we've never loved before. If we
treat each other with respect, and more often
wear a smile....remember that this special dash
might only last a while. So, when your eulogy's
being read with your life's actions to rehash...
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent your dash?
You got it from your father, it was all he had to give,
So it's yours to keep and cherish for as long as you shall live,
It was clean the day he got it, and a worthy name to bear,
When he got it from his father, there was no dishonor there,
So protect and guard it safely, for when all is said and done,
You'll be proud the name is spotless when you give it to your son.
Some family trees have beautiful leaves, and some have just a bunch of
nuts. Remember, it is the nuts that make the tree worth shaking.
If man cares not for his roots, then how can he care for his branches.
Isn't Genealogy Fun? The answer to one problem leads to two more.
“There is no better heritage that a father can bequeath to his children than a good name; nor is there in a family, a richer heirloom, than the memory of a noble ancestor.”
“The man who takes no pride in his ancestors is not likely to have his descendants take any pride in him.”