More Genealogy Humor, Part 2 :-)

MURPHY'S 12 LAWS AS APPLIED TO GENEALOGICAL RESEARCH

The family you are looking for will be on the last page of the unindexed (of course) census film that you check. However, if you begin at the end of the roll, they will be on Page 1.
The microfilm that you have diligently searched page-by-page will have an index at the end.
All of your spouse's ancestors will be mentioned in county histories. None of yours will be.
If you need just one record, the microfilm will have page numbers. If you need 3 or more records, there won't be any page numbers and the records will not be in proper order.
The book you need most will be out being rebound.
You will need item 23 on a microfilm roll that has 22 items. The rest of the film is continued on another roll that will not be in the drawer, and the librarian will tell you that it is "missing, and presumed lost."
Just before the entry you need, the records will end. They will begin again two years after the date you need.
If one brother is left out of the genealogy of a family, guess whose ancestor he will be?
If there is a family history on one branch of the family—it won't be yours.
When you finally find the microfilmed probate records of your missing link to a rich and/or famous line, the book will be so tightly bound that you can only make out the first two letters of the name of the one who MAY be your ancestor.
The researcher you hire to read the original records at the courthouse will inform you that only the particular probate packet you need is missing.
During the last hour of your trip to the Family History Library in Salt Lake City you will find everything you've hunted all week for, but you won't have time to copy it.

More Murphy's Laws for Genealogists

The public ceremony in which your distinguished ancestor participated and at which the platform collapsed under him turned out to be a hanging.
When at last after much hard work you have solved the mystery you have been working on for two years, your aunt says, "I could have told you that."
Your grandmother's maiden name that you have searched for, for four years, was on a letter in a box in the attic all the time.
You never asked your father about his family when he was alive because you weren't interested in genealogy then.
The will you need is in the safe on board the Titanic.
Copies of old newspapers have holes occurring only on the surnames.
John, son of Thomas, the immigrant whom your relatives claim as the family progenitor, died on board ship at age 10.
Your great grandfather's newspaper obituary states that he died leaving no issue of record.
The keeper of the vital records you need has just been insulted by a another genealogist.
The relative who had all the family photographs gave them all to her daughter who has no interest in genealogy and no inclination to share.
The only record you find for your great grandfather is that his property was sold at a sheriff's sale for insolvency.
The one document that would supply the missing link in your dead-end line has been lost due to fire, flood, or war.
The town clerk to whom you wrote for the information sends you a long handwritten letter which is totally illegible.
The spelling of your European ancestor's name bears no relationship to its current spelling or pronunciation.
None of the pictures in your recently deceased grandmother's photo album have names written on them.
No one in your family tree ever did anything noteworthy, owned property, was sued, or was named in wills.
You learn that your great aunt's executor just sold her life's collection of family genealogical materials to a flea market dealer "somewhere in New York City."
Ink fades and paper deteriorates at a rate inversely proportional to the value of the data recorded.
The 37-volume, 16,000-page history of your county of origin isn't indexed.
You finally find your great grandparent's wedding records and discover that the bride's father was named John Smith.
All the Vital records of the town you need are in alphabetical order by FIRST name and not in chronological order.
After a 2,500 mile trip, you are told "The Archive Clerk is on vacation. Come back next month."
"Your family cemetery is at the bottom of that lake."
Your key grave stone is marked "BALL, Father, Mother, and Mattie".
Two of your ancestors "died young".

—Posted 12 Nov 1998 on [email protected]

YOU KNOW YOU ARE A GENEALOGY ADDICT WHEN . . .

You brake for libraries.
You hyperventilate at the sight of an old cemetery.
You would rather browse in a cemetery than a shopping mall.
You would rather read census schedules than a good book.
You are more interested in what happened in 1697 than 1997.
Moses, Dorcas, and Caleb are household names, but you cannot remember what to call the dog.
You can pinpoint Sewickely, McKeesport, Evans City, (PA) but can't locate your state capitol on the map.
You think every home should have a copier and a microfilm reader.
You know every register of deeds in the state by name, but they lock the doors when they see you coming.
You store your clothes under the bed, because your closet is full of books and papers.
All your correspondence begins "Dear Cousin."
You have traced every one of your ancestral lines back to Adam and Eve, have it documented and still don't want to quit.

—No author attribution

.....You Know You're Taking Genealogy Too Seriously If.....

You are the only person to show up at the cemetery research party with a shovel.

In order to put the "final touches" on your genealogical research, you've asked all of your closest relatives to provide DNA samples.

You were instrumental in having "non-genealogical use of the genealogy room copy machine" classified as a federal hate crime.

Your house leans slightly toward the side where your genealogical records are stored.

You decided to take a two-week break from genealogy, and the U.S. Postal Office immediately laid off 1,500 employees.

Out of respect for your best friend's unquestioned reputation for honesty and integrity, you are willing to turn off that noisy surveillance camera while she reviews your 57 genealogical research notebooks in your home. The armed security guard, however, will remain.

You plod merrily along "refining" your recently published family history, blissfully unaware that the number of errata pages now far exceeds the number of pages in your original publication.

During an ice storm and power outage, you ignore the pleas of your shivering spouse and place your last quilt around that 1886 photograph of dear Uncle George.

The most recent document in your "Missing Ancestors" file is a 36-page contract between you and Johnson Billboard Advertising Company.

Ed McMahon, several TV cameras and an envelope from Publishers Clearing House arrive at your front door on Super Bowl Sunday, and the first thing you say is, "Are you related to the McMahons of Ohio?"

"A Loving Family" and "Financial Security" have moved up to second and third, respectively, on your list of life's goals, but still lag far behind "Owning My Own Microfilm Reader."

A magical genie appears and agrees to grant your any one wish, and you ask that the 1890 census be restored.
Posted to PACHESTE-L mailing list in 1998.

Preserving the Past

Who is this little girl?
What happened on this day?
Did she grow up to be a mom?
No one can truly say.

How proud and glad I'm sure she'd be
To see herself this way.
But through neglect and lack of care,
Her joy is lost today.

Stored in a box and put away,
Forgotten there so long ago —
Along with letters, flowers and cards,
And other faces we don't know.

Such a pretty little picture,
And its condition is quite good —
But no one ever kept it in
The place they really should.

So when I found her photo there,
It made me sad to see,
For all her youthful days on earth
Were lost in history.

—Author unknown

The Way of the World

Oh, where are the playmates of yesterday?
The fellows we knew at school?
Oh, what has become of the studious one?
And where, oh where, is the fool?

Oh, what has become of the orator,
Whose passion was to recite?
And the bashful kid who could speak no piece,
Unless he succumbed to some fright?

Oh, what has become of the model boy,
Who was always the teacher's pet?
And where, oh where, is the tough young nut,
The one we can never forget?

The studious one, so we have been told,
Is driving a cab these days.
The fool owns stock in a bank or two,
And a railroad that always pays.

The orator that we knew so well
Is a clerk in a drygoods store.
While the bashful kid we knew has been
In Congress ten years or more.

The model boy has been behind bars
For stealing a neighbor's cow.
And you ask what of the tough young nut?
Oh, he's our Bishop now.

By J. W. Johnson

Journal of Commerce

beating around the bush	75
jumping to conclusions	100
climbing the walls	150
passing the buck	25
dragging your heels	100
bending over backward	75
running around in circles	350

The Genealogist's Psalm

Dear Ancestor

MURPHY'S 12 LAWS AS APPLIED TO GENEALOGICAL RESEARCH

More Murphy's Laws for Genealogists

YOU KNOW YOU ARE A GENEALOGY ADDICT WHEN . . .

.....You Know You're Taking Genealogy Too Seriously If.....

Hourly calorie consumption of
genealogical activities:

Genealogist's Dilemma

THE ELUSIVE ANCESTOR

Preserving the Past

The Way of the World

The Genealogist's Psalm

Dear Ancestor

MURPHY'S 12 LAWS AS APPLIED TO GENEALOGICAL RESEARCH

More Murphy's Laws for Genealogists

YOU KNOW YOU ARE A GENEALOGY ADDICT WHEN . . .

.....You Know You're Taking Genealogy Too Seriously If.....

Hourly calorie consumption of genealogical activities:

Genealogist's Dilemma

THE ELUSIVE ANCESTOR

Preserving the Past

The Way of the World

Hourly calorie consumption of
genealogical activities: