In cleaning out some genealogy "stuff", I ran across this and thought some of you might enjoy it.  Amazing how we "take things for granted" as we read the census and never really think of what went on "in those days."  Hope you enjoy this as much as I did.   THE CENSUS TAKER   It was the first day of census, and all through the land; The pollster was ready...a black book in hand. He mounted his horse for a long dusty ride; His book and some quills were tucked close by his side.   A long winding ride down a road barely there; Toward the smell of fresh bread wafting, up through the air. The woman was tired, with lines on her face; And wisps of brown hair she tucked back into place.   She gave him some water...as they sat at the table; And she answered his questions...the best she was able. He asked of her children...Yes, she had quite a few; The oldest was twenty, the youngest not two.   She held up a toddler with cheeks round and red; His sister, she whispered, was napping in bed. She noted each person who lived there with pride; And she felt the faint stirrings of the wee one inside.   He noted the sex, the color, the age... The marks from the quill soon filled up the page. At the number of children, she nodded her head; And saw her lips quiver for the three that were dead.   The places of birth she "never forgot"; Was it Kanssas? or Utah? or Oregon...or not? They came from Scotland, of that she was clear; But she wasn't quite sure just how long they'd been here.   They spoke of employment, of schooling and such; They could read some...and write some...though really not much. When the questions were answered, his job there was done; So he mounted his horse and he rode toward the sun.   We can almost imagine his voice loud and clear; "May God bless you all for another ten years." Now picture a time warp...it's now you and me; As we search for the people on our family tree.   We squint at the census and scroll down so slow; As we search for that entry from long, long ago. Could they only imagine on that long ago day; That the entries they made would effect us this way?   If they knew, would they wonder at the yearning we feel; And the searching that makes them so increasingly real. We can hear if we listen the words they impart; Through their blood in our veins and their voice in our heart.                                                  AUTHOR UNKNOWN    

FABULOUS I LOVE IT CLAUDIA -----Original Message----- From: nybrooklyn-bounces@rootsweb.com [mailto:nybrooklyn-bounces@rootsweb.com] On Behalf Of Evelyn & Bill Hinkle Sent: Monday, October 06, 2008 1:58 PM To: nybrooklyn@rootsweb.com; nykings@rootsweb.com; ny-irish@rootsweb.com; nyerie@rootsweb.com; nyniagara@rootsweb.com; mdgarret@rootsweb.com; mdallega@rootsweb.com Subject: [BKLYN] The Census Taker In cleaning out some genealogy "stuff", I ran across this and thought some of you might enjoy it.  Amazing how we "take things for granted" as we read the census and never really think of what went on "in those days."  Hope you enjoy this as much as I did.   THE CENSUS TAKER   It was the first day of census, and all through the land; The pollster was ready...a black book in hand. He mounted his horse for a long dusty ride; His book and some quills were tucked close by his side.   A long winding ride down a road barely there; Toward the smell of fresh bread wafting, up through the air. The woman was tired, with lines on her face; And wisps of brown hair she tucked back into place.   She gave him some water...as they sat at the table; And she answered his questions...the best she was able. He asked of her children...Yes, she had quite a few; The oldest was twenty, the youngest not two.   She held up a toddler with cheeks round and red; His sister, she whispered, was napping in bed. She noted each person who lived there with pride; And she felt the faint stirrings of the wee one inside.   He noted the sex, the color, the age... The marks from the quill soon filled up the page. At the number of children, she nodded her head; And saw her lips quiver for the three that were dead.   The places of birth she "never forgot"; Was it Kanssas? or Utah? or Oregon...or not? They came from Scotland, of that she was clear; But she wasn't quite sure just how long they'd been here.   They spoke of employment, of schooling and such; They could read some...and write some...though really not much. When the questions were answered, his job there was done; So he mounted his horse and he rode toward the sun.   We can almost imagine his voice loud and clear; "May God bless you all for another ten years." Now picture a time warp...it's now you and me; As we search for the people on our family tree.   We squint at the census and scroll down so slow; As we search for that entry from long, long ago. Could they only imagine on that long ago day; That the entries they made would effect us this way?   If they knew, would they wonder at the yearning we feel; And the searching that makes them so increasingly real. We can hear if we listen the words they impart; Through their blood in our veins and their voice in our heart.                                                  AUTHOR UNKNOWN     ___________________________________ The Bklyn Info Pages Website: www.bklyn-genealogy-info.com/ List Administrator: NancyL916@aol.com Post to List: nybrooklyn@rootsweb.com ___________________________________ ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to NYBROOKLYN-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message