Thank you for all the wonderful families and Tribal Pages members who either publicly or privately  permit others, myself included, to use their photos, stories, anecdotes,family history etc. from  their private collections, in order to complete family member, at the same time giving us a  glimpse into their lives, whether it's their dress style, their working lives, passtimes,  celebtations and all other aspects of life that make a person who they are.

Often a picture conjured up in the mind of the appearance of what someone might look like, more  often than not, my imagination fails me miserably.  The magic of a simple photo, sketch or  painting brings a person to "life".

We should all appreciate the photos etc. from private collections often borrowed from their own  families, these people should  be assured their entries will be treated with the respect they  deserve. 
 Please, anyone who uses photos/information from other family trees for their own use refrain from  cropping, cutting, defameing in any other way and give respect to the families good enough sharing  same, at the same time be gracious enough to include the name of the original private owner.

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Thanks to Val, Ray and Jodie for keeping an eye out for errors. Many thanks to Brenda for all the Humphreys details

A special thanks to Bob Marquis for all his help.

The Newman / Lawson families would be scant if it weren't for Val.  Many thanks Val.  

Thanks to all the other people who have provided me with information. 

Raine

My brother-In-Law came across the following poem in a local magazine. In many ways it  rings true of me, and I'm guessing many on Tribal Pages.
 Thank you Dick!.

                             "GRANDMA'S DISEASE"

[Author unknown]

There's been a change in Grandma; we've noticed her of late, She's always reading history or jotting down some date.
 She's tracking back the family; we'll all have pedigrees, Oh, Grandmas got a hobby - she's climbing FAMILY TREES.

Poor Grandpa's does the cooking, and now, or so he states, That worst of all, he has to wash the cups and dinner plates. Grandma can't be bothered, she's busy as a bee,
 compiling genealogy for the FAMILY TREE.

She has no time to baby-sit, the curtains are a fright,
 No buttons left on Grandpa's shirt, the flower bed's a sight. She's given up her club work and the Soaps on T.V.,
 The only thing she does nowadays is climb the FAMILY TREE.

She goes down to the courthouse and studies ancient lore,
 We know more about our forebears, than we ever knew before.
 The books are old and dusty; they make poor Grandma sneeze,
 A minor irritation, when you're  climbing the FAMILY TREE.

The mail is all for Grandma, it comes from near and far,
 Last week she got the proof she needs to join the D.A.R.
 A monumental project all do agree, 
 All from climbing up the FAMILY TREE.

Now some folks come from Scotland, some from Galway Bay,
 Some were French as pastry, some German all the way.
 Some went West to stake their claim, Some stayed there by the sea, Grandma hopes to find them all,as she climbs up the FAMILY TREE.

She wanders through the graveyard in search of date and name, The rich, the poor, the in-betweens all sleeping there the same. She pauses now and then to rest, fanned by a gentle breeze,
 That blows above the Father's of all our FAMILY TREEs.

There are pioneers and patriots, mixed in our kith and kin,
 Who blazed the path of wilderness and fought through thick and thin. But none more staunch than Grandma, whose eyes light up with glee, Each time she finds a missing branch for the FAMILY TREE.

Their skills were were wide and varied, from carpenter to cook, And one, alas, the records show, was hopelessly a crook.
 Blacksmith, weaver, farmer, judge - some tutored for a fee,
 Once lost in time, now all recorded on the FAMILY TREE.

To some it's just a hobby, to Grandma it's much more,
 She learns the joys and heartaches of those that went before. They loved, they lost, they laughed, they wept - and now for you and me, They live again in spirit around the FAMILY TREE.

At last she's nearly finished and we are each exposed,
 Life will be the same again, this we all supposed.
 Grandma will cook and sew, serve cookies with our tea,
 We'll all be fat, just as before the wretched FAMILY TREE.

Sad to relate, the preacher called and visited for a spell,
 We talked about the Gospel, and other things as well.
 The heathen folk, the poor and then - 'twas fate it had to be, somehow the conversation turned to Grandma and the FAMILY TREE.

He never knew his Grandpa, his mother's name was... - Clark?  He and Grandma talked and talked while outside it grew dark. We'd hoped our fears were groundless, but just like some disease, Grandma's become an addict - she's hooked on FAMILY TREES.

Our souls are filled with sorrow, our hearts sad with dismay, Our ears scarcely believe the words we heard our Grandma say "It sure is a lucky thing that you have come to me,
 I know exactly how it's done. I'll climb your FAMILY TREE."