Have a happy Thanksgiving! "It was the first day of census, and all through the land, The pollster was ready, a book in his hand. He mounted his horse for a long dusty ride. His book and his quills were tucked close by his side. The woman was tired, with lines on her face. She gave him some water; they sat at the table. She answered his questions the best she was able. He asked of her children; she had quite a few. The oldest was 20, the youngest not two. She held up a toddler, his cheeks round and red. His sister, she whispered was napping in bed. She mentioned each person who lived there with pride, as she felt the faint stirrings of one yet 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 he saw her lips quiver for the ones who were dead. The place of birth she "never forgot." Was it Vermont, Boston, or Glasgow or not? They came from Scotland, on that she was quite clear, but she wasn't quite certain how long they had been here. So he mounted his horse and he rode toward the sun, and you can almost imagine his voice loud and clear. "May God bless you all for another ten years." Fast forward a moment, it's now you and me. As we search for the people on our family tree. We squint at the census and scroll down real slow, while we search for the entry from long, long ago. Could they only imagine on that long ago day, that the entries they made would affect us this way? If they knew, would they wonder at the yearning we feel, and the searching that makes them so incredibly real? We can hear if we listen the world they impart, through the blood in our veins and their voice in our heart. Happy Thanksgiving, remember just how lucky we are all to be here, and remember you too will be an ancestor one day. >From the Senior Citizen, Nov. issue 1999