Genealogy…I was warned not to start it. I was warned, it would become a habit, it would be frustrating, mindboggling, an unending, unsolvable puzzle that would leave you discouraged, ready to throw up your hands and quit, as you sit there with tired sore eyes, searching through the internet for old census, old phone books, old documents, trying to piece it all together and maybe end up with one small bit of information after days of searching…your reward….is it worth it….I was warned!!
I think I’ve asked all the oldest family members that I can ask, and drained them of all information of long ago, that is slowly with time, slipping from their minds. Why didn’t I ask questions earlier when it wasn’t so long ago and the people who knew could have told me…if only I’d asked!! Oh to wind back the clock!! However youth isn’t interested in that old stuff, but eventually the question will arise as they reach themselves, into the season of their advancing years….where did I come from, what is my history? Who am I?
Then, there are some family member’s with promises to go through that old box of pictures and documents, they have stored away in the attic, that could possibly help me get a few clues further into this treasure hunt of information. However, my interest, isn’t theirs, although, the end result for us all would be to know where we came from, what our history was, and how thankful we are to be here.
If only they knew what goes into this family search!!
The picture above is of my Grandmother, and I love this picture! Her name was Rachel (Clugston) Lindsay, and the picture was taken before she set sail from Ireland to Canada with all these, her children, to meet up with her husband John, who came earlier to find work, and have a home ready for them. My mother is sitting on her right, about age 7.
The settled in Owen Sound, Ontario. Right now, I’m on the hunt for the year and the ship and where they landed in Canada.
Now, once you start with this Genealogy, it’s very difficult to remain on one branch, as suddenly you find yourself sliding, or climbing up another branch of the family tree. This is where you triple the frustration!!
Below: is the branch of the family I started with, my father’s French side.
Below, another picture I love is of my Great-Grandfather, Adolph Regis, Guttin, and my Great-Grandmother, Isabella Hunter Saunders. My Great-Grandfather came from Moirans, (Isere) France in 1870. He met my Great-Grandmother here in Canada, married, and began a family, one of their children being Reginald,who married Mary Emma Willoughby who had a son Adolphe, who married my mother Gladys Julia, Lindsay, who had a daughter, being me!
Along with some great help from my Cousin Dorothy, my Aunt Irene, sister Roxanne and from a second Cousin Shannon, and a GREAT deal of help from Fabrice, a wonderful man in France who came in via the internet, to help us with a treasure trove of information, that he has searched for, right from where Fabrice, as well as my Grandfather’s family lived! He has taken so much of his time and expense to help us and through this, Shannon and myself have made a wonderful friend with this very giving person of who we are VERY thankful!!
Anyway, I’ve been reading books and magazines on genealogy, I bought a genealogy program, and I sit for hours at the Library on their free edition of Ancestry.Com, plus have taken a course on how to search for Ancestors. I’ve talked to relatives, and pretty well have exhausted my search for the moment…..only for the moment!! It’s tiring!! I need a break!! The thing is…without help, will I ever continue it? Sad if I don’t!
Here is a wonderful poem I came across years ago, and found it again just lately. It’s a beautiful poem and it really explains how this searching for our past can be so frustrating.
The Census Taker
It was the first day of census, and all through the land;
The pollster was ready ... a black book in hand.
He mounted his horse for a long dusty ride;
His book and some quills were tucked close by his side.
A long winding ride down a road barely there;
Toward the smell of fresh bread wafting, up through the air.
The woman was tired, with lines on her face;
And wisps of brown hair she tucked back into place.
She gave him some water ... as they sat at the table;
And she answered his questions ... the best she was able.
He asked of her children... Yes, she had quite a few;
The oldest was twenty, the youngest not two.
She held up a toddler with cheeks round and red;
his sister, she whispered, was napping in bed.
She noted each person who lived there with pride;
And she felt the faint stirrings of the wee one inside.
He noted the sex, the color, the age...
The marks from the quill soon filled up the page.
At the number of children, she nodded her head;
And saw her lips quiver for the three that were dead.
The places of birth she "never forgot";
Was it Kansas? or Utah? or Oregon ... or not?
They came from Scotland, of that she was clear;
But she wasn't quite sure just how long they'd been here.
They spoke of employment, of schooling and such;
They could read some .and write some .. though really not much.
When the questions were answered, his job there was done;
So he mounted his horse and he rode toward the sun.
We can almost imagine his voice loud and clear;
"May God bless you all for another ten years."
Now picture a time warp ... its' now you and me;
As we search for the people on our family tree.
We squint at the census and scroll down so slow;
As we search for that entry from long, long ago.
Could they only imagine on that long ago day;
That the entries they made would effect us this way?
If they knew, would they wonder at the yearning we feel;
And the searching that makes them so increasingly real.
We can hear if we listen the words they impart;
Through their blood in our veins and their voice in our heart.
Author : Darlene Stevens