Dear Ancestor: Your tombstone stands among the rest; neglected and alone. The name and date are chiseled out, on polished, marbled stone. It reaches out to all who care It is too late to mourn. You did not know that I exist you died and I was born. Yet each of us are cells of you in flesh, in blood, in bone. Our blood contracts, and beats a pulse entirely our own. Dear Ancestor, the place you filled one hundred years ago. Spreads out among the ones you left who would have loved you so. I wonder if you lived and loved. I wonder if you knew, That someday I would find this spot, and come to visit you. ~author unknown~ The above poem was written by a man who had done his research in Scotland. He had gone back and found his ggg-grandfather's old farm lands. While walking the fields, he came across a old piece of beam and on it were carved his ancestor's initials. Now wouldn't that be the greatest find in the world. That was his inspiration to write the above poem. With thoughts of Elgin, Moray, Scotland!!!! Muriel M. Farquhar Davidson <davidson3542@home.com>