You are the only person to show up at the cemetery research party with a
To put the “final touches” on your genealogical research, you’ve asked all of your closest relatives to provide DNA samples.
You were instrumental in having “non-genealogical use of the genealogy room copy machine” classified as a federal hate crime.
Your house leans slightly toward the side where your genealogical records are stored.
You decided to take a two-week break from genealogy, and the U.S. Postal Office immediately laid off 1,500 employees.
Out of respect for your best friend’s unquestioned reputation for honesty and integrity, you are willing to turn off that noisy surveillance camera while she reviews your 57 genealogical research notebooks in your home. The armed security guard, however, will remain.
You plod merrily along “refining” your recently published family history, blissfully unaware that the number of errata pages now far exceeds the number of pages in your original publication.
During an ice storm and power outage, you ignore the pleas of your shivering spouse and place your last quilt around that 1886 photograph of dear Uncle George.
The most recent document in your “Missing Ancestors” file is a 36- page contract between you and Johnson Billboard Advertising Company.
Ed McMahon, several TV cameras and an envelope from Publishers Clearing House arrive at your front door on Super Bowl Sunday, and the first thing you say is, “Are you related to the McMahons of Ohio?”
“A Loving Family” and “Financial Security” have moved up to second and third, respectively, on your list of life’s goals, but still lag far behind “Owning My Own Microfilm Reader.”
A magical genie appears and agrees to grant your any one wish, and you ask that the 1890 census be restored.
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