The Genealogist’s Christmas Lament

Santa

My family tree, it seems, is quite a mess,
John’s Y DNA did not match Mackness,
John instead matches up to an Ibling,
But then the Ibling did not match his sibling,
Instead the Ibling matched up to a Rolland,
But Rolland wasn’t from here, but from Poland.
The only thing in common I can remember
Is that all of them were born in September.

Good Heavens, I might have figured this out,
There’s one magical man, roly-poly and stout,
That visits worldwide just once a year,
In just one night, bringing gifts and good cheer.
Cookies and milk are left for his snack,
With a wink, he finds gifts for good kids in his pack,
But maybe he had something extra special in stow
For a few grateful Moms under the mistletoe?
My gosh, I think there’s even a song,
About kids seeing Santa kissing on Mom.
All this time, I thought sure it was Dad,
And Dad surely is going to be mad.

Do you think it’s possible that all these odd matches at play
Could be related to the man with the reindeer and the sleigh?
He’s been around forever it seems,
But not in even my wildest dreams,
Does it seem possible that the man with the twinkle and jingle,
Would be the guy doing the Mistletoe Mingle?
However, the modus operandi really does fit
And all I need now is some Santa Claus spit,
Cause, of course, I’m just dying to know,
If John, Ibling and Rolland all line up in a row.
And the name they all match, of course, would be Kringle,
Which would explain all about that wink, twinkle and jingle….

mistletoe

The Found Poem

found

 

i will keep calm

and keep researching…

in spite of my assertion of disappointment

that the ready answer

wasn’t waiting

 

keener minds have

reminded me…

that

we are really just at the beginning

of this science

 

all of these different studies

focusing…

on that which may be discovered

through diligence

 

i am mindful of a great gratitude

for the things that I have been able to discover…

and which knowledge

no other generation of us

ever had even the slightest chance

of discovering

 

it is a wonderful picture we have been given…

a picture which fastidiously

places us personally

upon the tree of life

 

the reality of our descent

through ancestors

both known and unknown…

is far removed from youthful thoughts of alienation

 

generations of relations…

moving

inexorably

through history

is a great gift

 

hopefully

it is a story

i can pass on

to those who have not yet even been born…

how wonderful

 

and thanks to M-168

M-70

and even pf7443 whoever he was…

and H2a2a2

that very special lady

 

harry

The Clan

You just never know who you’re going to meet doing genetic genealogy.  I meet the most interesting people.  One of my customers who purchased a Personalized DNA Report was a gentleman named Steve Ewing.  He wanted to know about the Ewing Clan, where his ancestors were from and if they were from Inch Island.  Did you even know there was a place called Inch Island?

Inch Island

Well, there it is, in Ireland, not far from Londonderry, and Steve’s Ewing family just may be from there.  So if you’re a Ewing or Ewen and you haven’t yet DNA tested, you might want to think about it, because you just might be from Inch Island and you might be related to a poet.

A poet?

Yes Indeed, a poet.  Steve’s hometown, Edgartown, MA., appointed him their first poet laureate.  But in case you think Steve is a one-trick pony, he’s not just a poet, he builds docks for a living, plus of course, he’s a genealogist.  I told you that I get to meet some of the world’s most interesting people, and I wasn’t kidding.

I asked Steve if he had written anything about DNA, if that had yet inspired him.  He sent me this poem and most gracioiusly granted permission for me to share it with you.  (Thank you Steve!)  His inspiration was the search for a new chief of the Clan Ewen.  But instead of me talking about it, let’s listen to the poet…

The Clan

The time has come

Again

To dig

Deep into

Our past

Sift through the

Claims of clan

Recall a center

From the mist

Drive a stake

In histories shady realm

That shrouds

In tartan cloak

Remains of chief

Head of clan

Born of blood

Living

Birthright blessed

To part those mists

Reveal the true course

Home

We hold the

Light of hope

Steady

With intellect

And if

The breech is wide

We’ll span with

Resolve and calm

For good of country

No less good of kin

I heartily support

This cause

In its myriad ways

For my father

For fathers gone before

No less our mothers

More so heap

With praise

Matriarchs

The true trunk

We sprout from

So come all MacEwens

Eoghains Ewings

Join the quest

We are transient people

That’s for sure

Now having settled

On fair Scotland’s

Rugged shore

And bound ourselves

Through loyalty and pain

The time has come

To gather

Once again

Before time’s

Mighty river

Rushes on

And washes us away

Into the sea

For something in us

Needs to know

Our truth lies buried

Deep below

The comfort of a family

Is our gain

Lost childhood

Life mysteries

Unrevealed

Yet sensed

And shared

This common blood

Flowing through

Our veins

Was soaked into

This rugged land

From whence we came

Or where we live still

So now may be the time

To pull the family shadow

From the mist

Or leave him hidden

Where he wants

To hide