We are the chosen.
My feelings are in each family there is one who seems to be called to find the ancestors. To put flesh on their bones and make them live again, to let the family story and to feel that some-how they know and approve. To me doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the story tellers of the tribe. All Tribes have one. We have been called, as if it were, by our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us. “TELL OUR STORY” so we do. In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many times have I told the ancestors you have a wonderful family, you would be proud of us? How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me: I cannot say. It goes beyond just documentations facts. It goes to who I am and why I do the things I do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and say 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 the contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that they fought to make and keep us a Nation.
It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us. 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 them and they are us. So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my family. Itis up to that one called in the next generation to answer the call and take their place in the long line of family story tellers.
I frequently have tears in my eyes as I do my thing here on Find a Grave and Ancestry. I think a person who ISN’T touched must have something wrong with their sense of compassion. All I can say is one day we will all be WHERE THERE ARE NO MORE TEARS.
Phyllis Strong Reeder

We are the chosen.
My feelings are in each family there is one who seems to be called to find the ancestors. To put flesh on their bones and make them live again, to let the family story and to feel that some-how they know and approve. To me doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the story tellers of the tribe. All Tribes have one. We have been called, as if it were, by our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us. “TELL OUR STORY” so we do. In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many times have I told the ancestors you have a wonderful family, you would be proud of us? How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me: I cannot say. It goes beyond just documentations facts. It goes to who I am and why I do the things I do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and say 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 the contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that they fought to make and keep us a Nation.
It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us. 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 them and they are us. So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my family. Itis up to that one called in the next generation to answer the call and take their place in the long line of family story tellers.
I frequently have tears in my eyes as I do my thing here on Find a Grave and Ancestry. I think a person who ISN’T touched must have something wrong with their sense of compassion. All I can say is one day we will all be WHERE THERE ARE NO MORE TEARS.
Phyllis Strong Reeder