Subject: Census

It was the first day of census, and all through the land each
pollster was ready ... a black book in hand. He mounted his horse
for a long dusty ride, his book and some quills were tucked close by
his side. A long winding ride down a road barely there, toward the
smell of fresh bread wafting, up through the air.

The woman was tired, with lines on her face and wisps of brown hair
she tucked back into place. She gave him some water ... as they sat
at the table and she answered his questions ... the best she was
able. He asked her of children. Yes, she had quite a few -- the
oldest was twenty, the youngest not two.

She held up a toddler with cheeks round and red; his sister, she
whispered, was napping in bed. She noted each person who lived there
with pride, and she felt the faint stirrings of the wee one 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 saw her lips
quiver for the three that were dead. The places of birth she "never
forgot" was it Kansas? or Utah? or Oregon... or not? They came from
Scotland, of that she was clear, but she wasn't quite sure just how
long they'd been here.

They spoke of employment, of schooling and such, they could read
some ... and write some ... though really  not much. When the
questions were answered, his job there was done so he mounted his
horse and he rode toward the  sun. We can almost imagine his voice
loud and clear, "May God bless you all for another ten years."

Now picture a time warp ... its' now you and me as we search for the
people on our family tree. We squint at the census and scroll down
so slow as we search for that entry from long, long ago. Could they
only imagine on that long ago day that the entries they made would
effect us this way?

If they knew would they wonder at the yearning we feel and the
searching that makes them so increasingly  real. We can hear if we
listen the words they impart through their blood in our veins and
their voice in our heart.
 

                                                                           --Author Unknown