Today, July 2, our website is 1 years old and like a baby we have crawled though our infancy.  Standing and walking on our own is our next objective,  and we hope you will all be with us to lend a steadying hand.

We have been visited by over 3,000 new viewers.  We have tripled our membership.  We have been contacted with regards to family lineage and heritage.

Church window donated by Jasper Anderson Ware.

Wildwood Barn in Nebraska City, the former home of Jasper Anderson Ware, is seeking information about him to further enlighten visitors to the farm.

Modern Restoration of the Elias Ware home.

There is a story in the que regarding the home Elias Ware in Wrentham, Massachusetts.  Judy Ware will soon be submitting further chapters in her family saga.  Etc.,etc.etc.  The stacks of papers on my computer desk are full of ideas and research materials for new stories.  So, the coming year may prove to be even busier and more productive.

I appreciate your support.  Some have sent in or posted wonderful anecdotes (Joe Ware) and helpful research (Wendell Ware).   We can always use more.  Along that line I just received a CD of some new stories from Raymond Ware.  His suggested gem for the month is as follows:

GRANDCHILDREN

In our sixty three years of wedded bliss, my wife and I raised three boys and a feisty darling girl.

Our daughter, Susan, married a successful  piano playing attorney, a real swell guy, and they have raised, and home schooled, eight wonderful children. Five girls and three boys. The youngest being a sweet little girl, Martha. Grandchildren can be either a bane to your existence, or the greatest thing ever to happen.

Having set the cast of this story, I’ll get on with it!

Susan had dropped Martha off for my wife to baby sit, while she attended a bridal shower.

I had spent the last eighteen hours engaged in a large warehouse fire on the edge of town. A facility full of general merchandise.

As Captain of an engine company, I was given orders where to set up my lines to work the fire. I had a crew of four firefighters, and getting them set up to do their thing, here in the middle of the night, was exasperating enough, add  the noise of exploding what ever, the smell and heat, and by the time the job was over, it was mid-morning. I was beaten!

I’m dog tired, dirty, smell like smoke, and need to eat something. Anything!

I get home, bathe, grab a bite, and flop in my “broke in good” easy chair in front of the TV.

I discover the local stations have been carrying the fire story all night and are still on it.

About the time I get settled in, Martha comes to me, stands in front, between my knees, and just looks up at me with a terrible frown on her sweet face.

Sensing a problem, I asked her, “What’s wrong, Honey?”

She looked up and serious as could be, asked, “Popaw, was TV this messed

up when Lincoln was shot?” ——

Suddenly I wasn’t tired anymore!

RW

5/11/10

That put family history in perspective for all of us.

I want to thank all of you who personally wished me a Happy Birthday.  I hope our next year together will make your wishes come true, also.