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Our Family's Journey Through Time
We are so please you dropped in to check us out. We have been 'doing' genealogy for more than 30 years! You'd think after all that time, we'd have all the answers! Not even close. We are always looking for new cousins and related families. Please let us know how you fit into our puzzle. The following text is filler text. You will use your text here. Wisi nim admin im veniam, quis nostrud. In atsvulpate velt esse meleste at semper manet sola. Ut lacreet dolore magna. Wisi e nim admin im veniam, quis nostrud. In atsvulpate velt esse meleste at semper manet sola. Ut lacreet dolore magna. Wisi e nim admin im veniam, quis nostrud. In atsvulpate velt esse meleste at semper manet sola.
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Write something short about your family and put in a picture to create interest.
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Far far away, behind the word mountains, far from the countries Vokalia
and Consonantia, there live the blind texts. Separated they live in
Bookmarksgrove right at the coast of the Semantics, a large language
ocean.
A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary regelialia. It is a paradisematic country, in which roasted parts of sentences fly into your mouth. Even the all-powerful Pointing has no control about the blind texts it is an almost unorthographic life
One day however a small line of blind text by the name of Lorem Ipsum decided to leave for the far World of Grammar. The Big Oxmox advised her not to do so, because there were thousands of bad Commas, wild Question Marks and devious Semikoli, but the Little Blind Text didn't listen. She packed her seven versalia, put her initial into the belt and made herself on the way.
When she reached the first hills of the Italic Mountains, she had a last view back on the skyline of her hometown Bookmarksgrove, the headline of Alphabet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek.
It goes to
seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference
and saying - I can't let this happen. The bones here are bones of my
bone and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it. It
goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they
contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships
and losses, their never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to
go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that
the fathers fought and some died to make and keep us a nation. It goes
to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us.
It is of equal pride and love that our mothers struggled to give
us birth, without them we could not exist, and so we love each one,
as far back as we can reach. That we might be born who we are. That
we might remember them. So we do. With love and caring and scribing
each fact of their existence, because we are they and they are the sum
of who we are.
So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my
family. It is up to that one called in the next generation to answer
the call and take my place in the long line of family storytellers.
That is why I do my family genealogy, and that is what calls those young
and old to step up and restore the memory or greet those who we had
never known before.
by Della M. Cummings Wright; Rewritten
by her granddaughter Dell Jo Ann McGinnis Johnson; Edited and Reworded
by Tom Dunn, 1943.
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