And now for a little fun!!

10. You introduce your daughter as your descendent.
9. You've never met any of the people you send e-mail to, even though you're related.
8. You can recite your lineage back 8 generations, but can't remember your nephew's name.
7. You have more photographs of dead people than living ones.
6. You've ever taken a tape recorder and/or notebook to your family reunion.
5. You've not only read the latest GEDCOM standard, you understand it!
4. The local genealogy society borrows books from you!
3. The only film you've seen in the last year was the 1880 census index.
2. More than half of your CD collection is made up of marriage records or pedigrees.
1. Your elusive ancestor has been spotted in more different places than Elvis has!

Many many years ago when I was twenty three,
I got married to a widow who was pretty as could be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red.
My father fell in love with her, and soon the two were wed.

This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life.
My daughter was my mother, for she was my father's wife.
To complicate the matters worse, although 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 was my uncle, then that also made him my brother
To the widow's grown-up daughter who, of course,
was my step-mother.

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

If my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it, it simply drives me wild,
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
As the husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa.

It is really true that a man can be his own Grandpa!

See if you can figure it out.

SYMPTOMS:
Continual complaint as to need for names, dates, kinships and places.
Patient has blank expression, 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 mail carriers when they
don't leave mail.
Frequents strange places such as cemeteries, ruins and
remote desolate country areas.
Makes secret night calls. Hides phone bills from spouse.
Mumbles to self.
Has strange, faraway look in eye.

NO KNOWN CURE!!

TREATMENT:
Medication is useless. Disease is not fatal,
but gets progressively worse.
Patient should attend genealogy workshops,
subscribe to genealogical magazines and be given
a quiet corner in the house where he/she can be alone.

REMARKS:
The usual nature of this disease is, the sicker the patient
gets, the more he/she enjoys it.

Author Unknown

You are working on your family genealogy and for sake of example, let's say that your great-great uncle, Remus Starr, a fellow lacking in character, was hanged for horse stealing and train robbery in Montana in 1889.

A cousin has supplied you with the only known photograph of Remus, showing him standing on the gallows. On the back of the picture are the words:

"Remus Starr: Horse thief, sent to Montana Territorial Prison, 1885. Escaped 1887, robbed the Montana Flyer six times. Caught by Pinkerton detectives, convicted and hanged, 1889."

Pretty grim situation, right? But let's revise things a bit. We simply crop the picture, scan in an enlarged image and edit it with image processing software so that all that is seen is a head shot.

Next, we rewrite the text:

"Remus Starr was a famous cowboy in the Montana Territory. His business empire grew to include acquisition of valuable equestrian assets and intimate dealings with the Montana railroad.

Beginning in 1885, he devoted several years of his life to service at a government facility, finally taking leave to resume his dealings with the railroad. In 1887, he was a key player in a vital investigation run by the renowned Pinkerton Detective Agency. In 1889, Remus passed away during an important civic function held in his honor when the platform upon which he was standing collapsed."

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 U.S. 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 could be upon some list of passengers to the USA,
but somehow they got missed.
And no one else in all the world is searching for this man.
So, I play geneasolitare 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 the 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!

A professor stood before his Philosophy 101 class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full? They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the open spaces between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He then asked once more if the jar was full. The students agreed with a unanimous --yes!

The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and proceeded to pour the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

"Now," the professor said, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things -- your family, your partner, your health, your children, your friends, your favorite passions --things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full."

"The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else -- the small stuff!"

"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is not room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out dancing. Play another 18 holes. There will always be time to go to work, clean the house, give a dinner party and fix the disposal."

"Take care of the golf balls first -- the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of beers!!!"