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From: <>
Subject: [WVBROOKE] Re: [Fwd: Census Taker]
Date: Tue, 21 Mar 2000 12:21:13 -0800

> CENSUS TAKER
>
> It was the first day of census, and all through the land;
> The 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 of her 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

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