In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told my ancestors you have a wonderful family, you would be proud of us? How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for us? I cannot say.

It goes beyond just documenting facts. It goes to who we are and why we do the things we do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and saying I can't let this happen. The folks here are bones of my bones and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it. It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses. Their never giving up or never giving in. Their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family.

With love and caring we record each fact of their existence. Because we are them and they are us. We might be born that we might remember them. So, we the chosen tell their story.

Written by: Lloyd Ray Timmons, Sr.