Siener / Shelby History Copywrite 2009 - 2010
srsiener@comcast.net
srsiener@comcast.net
Random Thoughts
I visit cemeteries and sometimes wonder what these people would think about someone looking for their grave and then documenting it in a way that their generation would never know...A Website.
The people I have been fortunate enough to document in this website lived in A world that, in relationship to what we have today was very small...I consider myself lucky to be the person to bring a small part of their world into yours.
I found this Poem and thought it might be appropriate I hope you feel the same.
Please Enjoy My Website
Steven R. Siener
DEAR ANCESTOR
Your tombstone stands among the rest, neglected and alone.
The name and the date are chiseled out on polished marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care; It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist, You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you in flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled one hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left, who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved, I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot, and come to visit you.
Author Unknown
I visit cemeteries and sometimes wonder what these people would think about someone looking for their grave and then documenting it in a way that their generation would never know...A Website.
The people I have been fortunate enough to document in this website lived in A world that, in relationship to what we have today was very small...I consider myself lucky to be the person to bring a small part of their world into yours.
I found this Poem and thought it might be appropriate I hope you feel the same.
Please Enjoy My Website
Steven R. Siener
DEAR ANCESTOR
Your tombstone stands among the rest, neglected and alone.
The name and the date are chiseled out on polished marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care; It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist, You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you in flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled one hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left, who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved, I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot, and come to visit you.
Author Unknown