Features

Santa: ‘Family History Is Fun!’

The Genealogist’s Christmas Poem

‘Twas the night before Christmas and in all the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse.

While I in my history had been all immersed,

Long-ago years is where I’d traversed.

Gifts of the season for the ones I hold dear

Had not been finished, and Christmas Eve was here.

The computer-room table with clutter was spread

With pedigree charts and letters, some of which said,

“Too bad about the dates for which you inquire,

Our courthouse and records were lost in a fire.”

Stacks of old copies of wills and the such

Were proof that my work had become much too much.

Our children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.

And I at my table was ready to drop

From work on my album of photos to crop.

Christmas was here, and of such was my lot

That presents and goodies and toys I’d forgot.

Had I not been so busy with grandparents’ wills,

I’d not have forgotten to shop for those thrills.

While others had bought gifts to bring Christmas cheer,

I’d been researching those dates, places and years.

While I was thus musing about my sad plight,

A strange noise on the lawn gave me such a great fright.

Away to the window I flew in a flash,

Tore open the drapes and yanked up the sash.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But an over-stuffed sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

Up to the housetop the reindeer they flew,

With a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas, too.

And then in a twinkle I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of thirty-two hoofs.

The TV antenna was no match for their horns,

And look at the roof with those hoof-prints adorned!

As I drew in my head, which I bumped on the sash,

Down the chimney fell Santa with a resounding Crrrrrash!

Spotting my face, good old Santa could quickly see,

I had no Christmas spirit; you’d probably agree.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work

And filled all the stockings; made me feel like a jerk.

Here was Santa, who’d brought us such gladness and joy,

While I’d been too busy to get even one toy.

He spied my research on the table all spread,

“A genealogist!” he cried, and my face went all red.

“Tonight I’ve met many like you,” Santa grinned,

As he pulled from his sack a large book he had penned.

I gazed with amazement at the cover which stated:

“Genealogy Lines, Documented and Dated.”

I know what it’s like to be a genealogy bug,

He said as he gave me a big Santa hug.

While the elves make the sleighful of toys I now carry,

I do some research in the North Pole Library.

A special treat I’m thus able to bring

To genealogy folks and make their hearts sing.

Now off you go to your bed for a rest,

I’ll clean up the house and sort this genealogy mess.

While settling in bed, I heard Santa’s clear whistle

To his team, which then rose like the down of a thistle.

And I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight,

“Family History is fun! Merry Christmas! Good night!”

, DataTimes MEMO: Write to Donna Potter Phillips at The Spokesman-Review, Features Department, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Donna Potter Phillips The Spokesman-Review

Write to Donna Potter Phillips at The Spokesman-Review, Features Department, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Donna Potter Phillips The Spokesman-Review



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