Something to ponder ?!

Today, this message (left) came with some hints“hints” for my family tree. With my searches, why haven’t they found the Tiner and Harris great-grandfather? See the 1633 number (above)? True story: Perhaps five-hundred individuals are related to Mr. and Mrs. Tiner. The other eleven-hundred are the additional individuals researched (and documented) while searching for the ancestors.

“One track mind”? Yes, I’m almost always (figuratively) “climbing the family tree.”

Other activities

“The old lady”  works on technical problems, too. Fresh batteries and an alternate setting. Alas, “the old thermometer”  hasn’t responded to my resuscitation efforts. (1) New batteries, (2) swapped to a second sensor, (3) worked with settings, (4) pictures of my futile efforts! ~~ “Other activities“: Washed the dishes, washed my hair, took a shower, and prepared Hummingbird nectar.




Hostess ?!

The Hummingbird feeders were empty. I’m in the process of making a double batch of nectar. Since the twelfth, I’ve filled feeders a couple of times!! Perhaps too few flowering plants for Hummingbirds to feed upon? In Livingston, Texas (and North Carolina), I had flowering plants specifically for Hummingbirds, butterflies, and bees. The rose bushes in my yard (Waco) obviously do not provide nectar.

Familiar territory !!


Here is a link to my previous milestone regarding individuals in my Ancestry database. ~~ Documenting “my family”and collateral linesis easy because the individuals are well documented. I “hit a brick wall”  while documenting the ancestors of my RV Park owner-manager, and his wife. I did exhaustive searches and cannot get past their great-grandparents.


Because it was cold outdoorsand indoorsI’ve spent hours at the computer near a space heater!!

Burning the midnight oil !!

While watching–and listening–to TV Church, I was sorting family history paperworkand other “paper stuff.” I came across a story that I believe needed to be copied to the Internet. Here is a link to the story in my  database: Supercentenarian celebrates her 111th birthday. Hopefully, the reader can access the story because I can’t test the link. (Ancestry recognizes me.) *

Here is a picture of “family history paperwork” that is more than three decades old. One… is dated 19 February 1987. All will go into the trash bin because it has no value. The information is well-documented in my  database.


*Please “comment” if you cannot read the story.


“I’m not old…

…just mature.”

Today at the drug store the clerk was a gent
From my purchase, this chap took off ten percent.
I asked for the cause of a lesser amount;
And he answered, “Because of the Seniors Discount.”

I went to McDonald’s for a burger and fries;
And there, once again, got quite a surprise.
The clerk poured some coffee which he handed to me.
He said, “For you, Seniors, the coffee is free.”

Understand… I’m not old… I’m merely mature.
But some things are changing, temporarily, I’m sure.
The newspaper print gets smaller each day,
And people speak softer… can’t hear what they say.

My teeth are my own (I have the receipt),
And my glasses identify people I meet.
Oh, I’ve slowed down a bit … not a lot, I am sure.
You see, I’m not old… I’m only mature.

The gold in my hair has been bleached by the sun.
You should see all the damage that chlorine has done.
Washing my hair has turned it all white,
But don’t call it gray… saying “blond” is just right.

My car is all paid for… not a nickel is owed.
Yet a kid yells, “Old duffer… get off of the road!”
My car has no scratches… not even a dent.
Still I get all that guff from a punk who’s “Hell bent.”

My friends all get older… much faster than me.
They seem much more wrinkled, from what I can see.
I’ve got “character lines,” not wrinkles… for sure,
But don’t call me old… just call me mature.

The steps in the houses they’re building today
Are so high that they take … your breath all away;
And the streets are much steeper than ten years ago.
That should explain why my walking is slow.

But I’m keeping up on what’s hip and what’s new,
And I think I can still dance a mean boogaloo.
I’m still in the running… in this I’m secure,
I’m not really old… I’m only mature.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

While “downsizing,” I found this poem and knew I wanted to share it with my readers. ~~ I love the beautiful roses in my yard. ~~ Wishing you a blessed Lord’s Day!!


“People who live in glass houses…

…should not throw stones.”

Several days ago, I created this image (left) from an accurate image of careless documentation by a subscriber to I attached it to the individual hoping to encourage subscribers (readers) to double-check their records. To my chagrin, today I saw that I had a similar error in my tree.

Years ago, I earned my living as a “proofreader.” Errors have a way of “popping off the page” to me. Furthermore, I check and double-check each person before I move to siblings or parents. According to comments I attached to Phoebe Gaffield Watson, it has been five years since I last documented this family. Five years with this gross error. Shame, shame, Lorraine!!

Downsizing !!

Now (above) and then (below).

Disposal of one box with dozens of boxes destined for another location. Genealogy to the Brethren Heritage Center and miscellaneous to Thrift Shops.