Genealogy begins as an interest  
 Becomes a hobby;
 Continues as an avocation,
 Takes over as an obsession,
 And in its last stages,
 Is an incurable disease ~ Author Unknown

I started researching my Family Tree because my Dad knew very little about his  own father. He knew his name was the same as his own - John Houghton - and  that he had died at some time in the 1930s because he remembered going to his  funeral as a small boy. He didn't know his date of birth or where he was  born..... and so began my quest! I have laughed, cried, burnt the midnight  oil, gone to sleep with the name of an elusive ancestor on my mind, dreamt about them and woke up with their name on my lips. It has all been worth it  though. I am on this incredible journey, making new discoveries around every  corner. I have made contact with long lost cousins, thanks to the kindness of  fellow researchers who have pointed me in the right direction and shared their  own findings with me. I have also realised that the more I discover the more  there is to discover and the more I want to discover it! It is no longer a  hobby, it is more a matter of life and death!
                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 I found these poems while searching for my elusive ancestors and I thought I  would share them with you.

This one is for my beautiful Grandchildren - I hope it makes you smile.

Our Gran

There's been a change in Gran, we've noticed that of late, She's always reading history or jotting down some date.
 She's tracking back the family, we'll all have pedigrees. Oh, Gran's got a hobby, she's climbing Family Trees.

Her poor son does the cooking and now, or so he states,
 That worst of all, he has to wash the cups and dinner plates. Gran can't be bothered, she's busy as a bee
 Compiling genealogy - for the Family Tree.

She has no time to baby-sit, the curtains are a fright,
 No buttons left on her son's shirts, the flower bed's a sight. She's given up her club work, the serials on TV,
 The only thing she does nowadays is climb the Family Tree.

She goes down to the library and studies ancient lore,
 We know more about our forebears than we ever knew before.
 The books are old and dusty, they make our poor Gran sneeze, A minor irritation when you're climbing Family Trees.

Now some folks came from Scotland and some from Galway Bay,
 Some were French as pastry, some Canadian, all the way.
 Some went on west to stake their claim, some stayed near by the sea, Gran hopes to find them all as she climbs the Family Tree.

She wanders through the graveyard in search of date or name, The rich, the poor, the in-between, all sleeping there the same. She pauses now and then to rest, fanned by a gentle breeze
 That blows above the Fathers of all our Family Trees.

There were pioneers and patriots mixed in our kith and kin
 Who blazed the paths of wilderness and fought through thick and thin. But none more staunch than our Gran, whose eyes light up with glee Each time she finds a missing branch for the Family Tree.

Their skills were wide and varied, from carpenter to cook
 And one (Alas!) the record shows was hopelessly a crook.
 Blacksmith, weaver, farmer, stonemason, some tutored for a fee, Long lost in time, but now, recorded on the Family Tree.

To some it's just a hobby, to Gran it's much more,
 She knows the joys and heartaches of those who went before.
 They loved, they lost, they laughed, they wept, and now for you and me They live again in spirit, around the Family Tree.

At last she's nearly finished and we are each exposed.
 Life will be the same again, this we all supposed!
 Gran will cook and sew, serve cookies with our tea.
 We'll all be fat, just as before that wretched Family Tree.

Sad to relate, her friend called and visited for a spell,
 They talked about the weather, and other things as well,
 They compared notes on their Grandchildren and then - 'twas fate, it had to be, Somehow the conversation turned to Gran and the Family Tree.

We tried to change the subject, we talked of everything
 But then in Gran's voice we heard that old familiar ring. She told her friend about the past and soon was plain to see Her friend, too, was ensnared by Gran and the Family Tree.

Her friend never knew her Granddad, her mother's maiden name was ... Clark? She and Gran talked and talked, outside it grew quite dark.
 We'd hoped our fears were groundless, but just like some disease, Gran's become an addict - she's hooked on Family Trees!

Our souls were filled with sorrow, our hearts sank with dismay, Our ears could scarce believe the words we heard our Gran say, "It sure is a lucky thing that you have come to me,
 I know exactly how it's done, I'll climb your Family Tree!"                          ~ Author Unknown ~
                        
                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 Our Ancestors

If you could see your ancestors
 All standing in a row
 Would you be proud of them or not
 Or don't you really know?
 Some strange discoveries are made
 In climbing family trees
 And some of them you know, do not
 Particularly please.
 If you could see your ancestors
 All standing in a row,
 There might be some of them perhaps
 You wouldn't care to know.
 But there's another question, which
 Requires a different view.
 IF you could meet your ancestors
 Would they be proud of YOU?
                             ~ Author Unknown ~
   
                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Treasures In The Box 

Come look with me inside this drawer 
 In a box I've often seen, 
 At photos faded black and white 
 Faces proud, still serene

I wish I knew these strangers 
 These people in the box 
 Their names and all their memories 
 Are lost among the socks

I wonder what their lives were like 
 How did they spend there days? 
 Their happy, sad and special times 
 I'll never know their ways

If only someone had taken time 
 To tell Who, What, Where and When 
 These faces of my heritage 
 Would come to life again

Could this be the fate 
 Of the photos we take today 
 The faces and the memories 
 Someday just tossed away

Make time to save the pictures 
 Seize opportunity when it knocks 
 Or someday you and yours could be 
 Those 'strangers in the box'.
                             ~ Author unknown ~

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 23rd Psalm for Genealogists 

Genealogy is my Pastime ... 
 I shall not stray,
 It maketh me to lie down 
 and examine half-buried Tombstones;
 It leadeth me into still Libraries.
 It restoreth my Ancestral Knowledge;
 It leadeth me into the Paths of Census Records 
 and Ships Passenger Lists for my Surnames' sake;
 Yes, though I wait through the Shadows 
 of Research Libraries and Microfilm Readers,
 I shall fear no Discouragment, 
 for a Strong Urge is with me.
 The curiosity and Motivation, 
 they Comfort me;
 It demandeth preparation of Storage Space 
 for the Aquisition of Countless Documents;
 It anointeth 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.
                          ~ Author Unknown ~
                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I still have lots of work to do on this site so please come back at some  future date and take a second look - thank you.