Grandma Climbed The Family Tree
By Virginia Day McDonald, Macon, GA
~
There's
been a change in Grandma, we've noticed as of late.
She's
always reading history, or jotting down some date.
She's
tracing back the family, we'll all have pedigrees,
Grandma's
got a hobby, she's Climbing Family Trees...
Poor
Grandpa does the cooking, and now, or so he states,
He
even has to wash the cups and dinner plates.
Well,
Grandma can't be bothered, she's busy as a bee,
Compiling
genealogy for the Family Tree.
She
has not time to baby-sit, the curtains are a fright.
No
buttons left on Grandpa's shirts, the flower bed's a sight.
She's
given up her club work, the serials on TV,
The
only thing she does nowdays is climb that Family Tree.
The
mail is all for Grandma, it comes from near and far.
Last
week she got the proof she needs to join the DAR.
A
monumental project - to that we all agree,
A
worthwhile avocation - to climb the Family Tree.
She
wanders through the graveyard in search of date and name,
The
rich, the poor, the inbetween, 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.
Now
some folks came from Scotland, some from Galway Bay,
Some
were French as pastry, some German all the way.
Some
went on West to stake their claims, some stayed there by the sea,
Grandma
hopes to find them all as she climbs the Family Tree.
There
were pioneers and patriots mixed with our kith and kin,
Who
blazed the paths of wilderness and fought through thick and thin.
But
none more staunch than Grandma, 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 records show was hopelessly a crook.
Blacksmith,
farmer, weaver, judge, some tutored for a fee,
One
lost in time, now all recorded on the Family Tree.
To
some it's just a hobby, to Grandma it's much more.
She
learns 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 suppose.
Grandma
will cook and sew, serve crullers with our tea.
We'll
have her back, just as before that wretched Family Tree.
Sad
to relate, the Preacher called and visited for a spell.
We
talked about the Gospel and other things as well.
The
heathen folk, the poor, and then 'twas fate, it had to be
Somehow
the conversation turned to Grandma and the Family Tree.
We
tried to change the subject, we talked of everything,
But
then in Grandma's voice we heard that old familiar ring.
She
told him all about the past, and soon 'twas plain to see,
The
Preacher, too, was neatly snared by Grandma and the Family Tree.
~