Ancestors
The Smiths were proud of their family tradition. Their ancestors had come to America on the Mayflower. They had included Senators and Wall Street wizards.
They decided to compile a family history, a legacy for their children and grandchildren. They hired a fine author. Only one problem arose -- how to handle that great-uncle George, who was executed in the electric chair.
The author said he could handle the story tactfully.
The book appeared. It said "Great-uncle George occupied a chair of applied electronics at an important government institution, was attached to his position by the strongest of ties, and his death came as a great shock."

I finally got it all together. Now where did I put it?

There is a very fine line between "hobby"  and "mental illness."

 Our children were nestled all snug in their beds,
 While vision of sugar plums danced in their heads.
 And I, at my table, was ready to drop
 From work on my album with photos to crop.
 Christmas Eve was here, and of such was my lot,
 That presents and goodies and toys I'd 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 birth dates 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 yanked up on the sash.

 When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
 But an overstuffed sleigh and eight little reindeer.
 With a sleigh full of toys and ole Santa Claus too.
 And then in 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---CR-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 the 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 genealoagy mess.

 As I climed up the stairs feeling 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!

If it's only a hobby, why do I feel so stressed out?

Activity                                          Calories
Jumping to conclusions                      100
Wading through paperwork                 300
Jumping on the bandwagon                 350
Opening a can of worms                      50
Making mountains out of molehills      350
Dragging your feet                              25
Running in circles                              200
Pushing your luck                              250
Tooting your own horn                         25
Adding fuel to the fire                       150
Beating around the bush                      75
Swallowing your pride                          50
Hitting the nail on the head                  50
Passing the buck                               100
Eating crow                                      225
Climbing the walls                             150
Bending over backward                        75
Throwing your weight around
 (Depending on your weight)           50-300
Getting info from a real Looney            425

Humor Only Genealogists Can Appreciate:
My family coat of arms ties at the back....is that normal?
My family tree is a few branches short!   All help appreciated
My ancestors must be in a witness protection program!
Shake your family tree and watch the nuts fall!
My hobby is genealogy, I raise dust bunnies as pets.
How can one ancestor cause so much TROUBLE??
I looked into my family tree and found out I was a sap..
I'm not stuck, I'm ancestrally challenged.
I'm searching for myself; Have you seen me ?
If only people came with pull-down menus and on-line help...
Isn't genealogy fun? The answer to one problem, leads to two more!
It's 1999... Do you know where your-Great-G. Grandparents are?
A family reunion is an effective form of birth control.
A family tree can wither if nobody tends it's roots.
A new cousin a day keeps the boredom away.
After 30 days, unclaimed ancestors will be adopted.
Am I the only person up my tree... sure seems like it.
Any family tree produces some lemons, some nuts and a few bad apples
Ever find an ancestor HANGING from the family tree?
FLOOR: The place for storing your priceless genealogy records.
Gene-Allergy: It's a contagious disease, but I love it.
Genealogists are time unravelers.
Genealogy is like playing hide and seek: They hide... I seek!
Genealogy: Tracing yourself back to better people.
"Crazy" is a relative term in my family.
A pack rat is hard to live with, but makes a fine ancestor.
I want to find ALL of them! So far I only have a few thousand.
I Should have asked them BEFORE they died!
I think my ancestors had several "Bad heir" days.
I'm always late. My ancestors arrived on the JUNE flower.
Only a Genealogist regards a step backwards, as progress.
Share your knowledge, it is a way to achieve immortality.
Heredity: Everyone believes in it until their children act like fools!
It's an unusual family that hath neither a lady of the evening or a thief.
Many a family tree needs pruning.
Shh! Be very, very quiet.... I'm hunting forebears.
Snobs talk as if they had begotten their own ancestors!
That's strange: half my ancestors are WOMEN!
I'm not sick, I've just got fading genes.
Genealogists live in the past lane.
Cousins marrying cousins: Very tangled roots!
Cousins marrying cousins: A non-branching family tree.
Alright! Everybody out of the gene pool!
Always willing to share my ignorance....
Documentation...The hardest part of genealogy.
Genealogy: Chasing your own tale!
Genealogy...will I ever find time to mow the lawn again?
That's the problem with the gene pool: NO Lifeguards.
I researched my family tree... and apparently I don't exist!
SO MANY ANCESTORS...........................SO LITTLE TIME

Genealogy: Where you confuse the dead and irritate the living.

A man once counseled his son that if he wanted to live a long life, the secret was to sprinkle a little gunpowder on his Corn Flakes every morning.  The son did this religiously, and he lived to the age of 93.
When he died, he left 14 children, 28 grand-children, 35 great-grand children, and a 15 foot hole in the wall of the crematorium.

Can a first cousin, once removed, return?
Cemetery: A marble orchard not to be taken for granite.
Crazy.... is a relative term in MY family.
Genealogy: It's all relative in the end anyway.
Genealogy: Tracing yourself back to better people.
I trace my family history so I will know who to blame.
It's hard to be humble with ancestors like mine!
Life takes it's toll. Have exact change ready!
Searching for lost relatives? Win the Lottery!
That's strange; half my ancestors are WOMEN!
Do I even WANT ancestors?
Some I found I wish I could lose.
Every family tree has some sap in it.
FLOOR: The place for storing your priceless genealogy records.
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.
Genealogy: Collecting dead relatives and sometimes a live cousin!
Genealogy: Where you confuse the dead and irritate the living.
Heredity: Everyone believes in it until their children act like fools!
I think my family tree is a few branches short of full bloom.
Life is lived forwards, but understood backwards.
My ancestors are hiding in a witness protection program.
My family tree is a few branches short!
Research: What I'm doing, when I don't know what I'm doing.
Take nothing but ancestors, leave nothing but records.
Theory of relativity: If you go back far enough, we're all related.

What do you mean my grandparents didn't have any kids?

The "good ol' days (Life in the 1500s)
Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May and were still smelling pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell some, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the odor.

Baths equaled a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water."

Houses had thatched roofs. Thatch was straw, piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the pets - dogs, cats - and other small animals, mice, rats, bugs lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying, "It's raining cats and dogs."

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could really mess up your nice clean bed. So, they found if they made beds with big posts and hung a sheet over the top, it addressed that problem. Hence those beautiful big four poster beds with canopies.The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt, thence the saying "dirt poor".

The wealthy had slate floors which would get slippery in the winter when wet. So they spread thresh on the floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on they kept adding more thresh until when you opened the door it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed at the entry way, hence a "threshold".

They cooked in the kitchen in a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They mostly ate vegetables and didn't get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes the stew had food in it that had been in there for a month. Hence the rhyme, "Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old".

Sometimes they could obtain pork and would feel really special when that happened. When company came over, they would bring out some bacon and hang it to show it off. It was a sign of wealth and that a man "could bring home the bacon". They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and "chew the fat".
Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with a high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food. This happened most often with tomatoes, so they stopped eating tomatoes - for 400 years.
Most people didn't have pewter plates, but had trenchers - a piece of wood with the middle scooped out like a bowl. Trenchers were never washed and a lot of times worms got into the wood. After eating off wormy trenchers, they would get "trench mouth".

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the "upper crust".

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whiskey. The combination would sometimes knock them out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a "wake".

England is old and small and they started running out of places to bury people. So, they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a house and reuse the grave. In reopening these coffins, one out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they thought they would tie a string on their wrist and lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night to listen for the bell. Hence on the "graveyard shift" they would know that someone was "saved by the bell" or he was a "dead ringer".

Whoever said Seek and Ye shall find was NOT a genealogist!

"Crazy" is a relative term in MY family.

Once I gave up on reality, I had so many more options.

Genealogy is my pastime, I shall not stray
 It maketh me to lie down and examine
     half-buried tombstones.
It leadth me into still courthouses; It
 restoreth my ancestral knowledge.
It leadeth me in paths of census records &
ship's passenger lists for my surname's sake.
 Yea, though I walk through the shadows of
 research libraries & microfilm readers,
  I shall fear no discouragement.
For a strong urge is within me, the curiosity
  & motivation they comforteth me.
It demandeth preparation of storage space
for the acquistion of countless documents.
It annointeth my head with burning mid-night
      oil; my family group sheets
           runneth over.
Surely birth, marriage, & death dates shall
   follow me all the days of my life;
And I shall dwell in the house of a family-
     history seeker forever.
By Wildamae Brestal

 Enough research will tend to support your theory.

WARNING: Genealogy Pox, very contagious
SYMPTOMS: Continual complaint as to need for names, dates and places.
Patient has a blank expression and sometimes deaf to spouse and children.
Has no taste for work of any kind except feverishly looking through records at libraries and courthouses.
Has compulsion to write letters. Swears at the mailman when he doesn't leave mail.
Frequents strange places, such as cemeteries, ruins and remote desolate country areas.
Makes secret night calls, hides phone bills and mumbles to self.
Has strange faraway look in eyes.
UH OH, YOU HAVE IT!
TREATMENT: Medication is useless, Disease is not fatal but gets
progressively worse. Patient should attend workshops subscribe to magazines and be given a quiet corner in the house where they can be alone.
REMARKS: The unusual nature of this disease, is the sicker the patient gets, the more they enjoy it.
Author: Fern May 1993-94

Isn't genealogy fun? The answer to one problem, leads to two more!