Family Group Sheet Form

Great answers by Dick Karp and David LaSpina.I can only add my two cents of knowledge to their insights.The first thing: citizenship and naturalization are two different matters.You can only get citizenship if you were born from Japanese parents, AND being registered within 3 months with your local Japanese consulate.AND when you reach 20 years old, it's mandatory you choose whether lose your local citizenship or your Japanese citizenship.Should you not make a move, you lose your Japanese one by default.On the other hand, you might be naturalised Japanese (i.e.: become a non-born Japanese with a permanent visa) if all these criteria are met:- you're living for at least 5 years in Japan- you're at least 20 years old- you can read, write and speak Japanese fluently- you are willing to go through writing exams and interview processes- you have professional skills and $ to support yourselfEvery case is examined and weighed individually. Say, if one of your parents is Japanese (Japanese-born), the Ministry of Justice may wave the age and residence requirements. But again: it is a case-by-case process.Sources:Japanese nationality lawI want to become a Japanese nationalMany angles to acquiring Japanese citizenship | The Japan TimesAlso, I went myself to my local Japan consulate and talked with them.

There's not quite enough information to answer your question. There are a number of family tree computer programs which produce nice pedigree charts, family group sheets, descendant charts and so on. However, if you mean a tree-looking shape with names written on it that's suitable for framing, then the answer is different. You can buy those and carefully ink them in yourself. Some of the computer programs can generate basic trees but they usually require a commercial print shop to print them out. You don't say how many generations you need. That would be important for the size of the document. Genealogical Charts (National Institute)

Most families have an odd aunt who keeps track of the family tree. I can't speak to the accuracy and thoroughness of her work, but I've almost never had to start from scratch. The first thing a researcher would do is to interview elderly family members, and they'll know who, if anyone, has some group sheets. What I like to do for beginners is to make "My Little Tree." You take yourself, your parents, your grandparents, and their parents. That's 15 people, 7 marriages, 15 birth dates and places, some death dates and places. Fill it out. Give yourself one point for each thing you "know." Every Name, Place, Date is a point. I knew a lady that, speaking from memory, made an 85. Most people don't make 50. I agree with Alan Moll - you can find information online but you should approach it skeptically. If you are from the US, you can probably find your family in the 1940 census, and work your way back to 1850 pretty easily. By then, you'll either be hooked or burned out. Remember this before you start. Everybody who is partly English is probably related to EVERYONE who lived in England during the Battle of Hastings (1066). Everybody has queens and castles back up the line. What you really want to find, to stand out and feel special, is a horse thief. Have fun!

It’s really complicated. As an adult daughter currently struggling to accept my mother, I’ll tell you my reasons.My mother has gone through a lot in her life and I respect her for just surviving those times, for just making it here as a now wise “old” woman.That being said, she was sometimes just really careless, especially with me because…I’m the eldest? I don’t know, now that I look back, it’s possible that she was just too comfortable with me or she just…didn’t care enough to watch what she said/did and it really hurt. So much so that even to this day, I find it hard to look her in the eye or not cringe when she acts friendly or trust her with anything or sympathise with her at all, even when she’s sick. I know, it’s bad. I should be more caring. I just…have no idea how. No matter how much I try, my brain physically rejects the idea of becoming friends with her. It just really, really hates it.For example, when I had just finished intermediate school (or junior high - I don’t know what you call them in your country) my mother got a job as a restaurant manager in a lower decile region in the west side (we lived in a high decile region on the east side). This was for our residency VISA that we were working so hard for. I was getting separated from all of my friends, into a sea of strangers, and to be really honest I was absolutely terrified. I could see myself as becoming the loner kid that nobody sat with at lunch times, the loner kid with the awkward and silent moments in classes when we were told to discuss with our neighbours, just any typical high school nightmares.But I didn’t let any of this on. I just processed this fear internally and told myself that it was for our family, and that my fears were trivial compared to what we were trying to do. Hold your horses, this is NOT why we’re the way we are now. Like I said, I processed it internally and never held a grudge against her for it. Anyway.Luckily I faked confidence and managed to fit in pretty well.I could tell my mother’s job was stressful. She sometimes asked me to call her at work and pretend that we really needed her, because her boss liked to have drinking sessions after the restaurant closed and my mother hated the politics that continued into those sessions - her boss was the one that was providing and signing the documents required for residency application (as well as other VISA applications), and he liked to practise his power by holding them over his employees’. Like a dog trainer holding a sausage over his dogs.One day, I remembered that it was her birthday. I knew my mum was always stressed about her work and application processes, so I wanted her to have a good time at home. So I worked with my younger brother to bake a cake, clean up the house, blow some balloons and set up a nice table so that she could walk in and…be pleased.I was 16? at the time and baking was not a skill I had mastered. The cake I tried to bake turned out to be a pancake. But no matter, I cut it, decorated it, put it on a nice plate along with other desserts and covered it. Then we waited with the lights off in the dining room so she could be taken off guard completely.We heard the lock being turned that night at around 10pm. We were excited. What would our mother say? We couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.She came in and we both shouted “Happy birthday!” with huge grins on our faces.My mother’s face did not look the way we expected. In fact, the scowl on her face didn’t leave. She didn’t even respond or look at the setup we put effort into.I just thought, “She must be too tired to notice what’s happening” so I lifted up the cover and repeated, “Happy birthday!” At this time I thought she would understand that it was her birthday and we were appreciating her by baking her a cake and making sure that she could relax that day without any worries of chores.She literally brushed past me and began to climb up the stairs to her bedroom. Not a single word or any form of acknowledgement. One of our then flatmates who was in the kitchen found this strange, so she asked, “Aren’t you going to try the cake?”My mother finally turned around and came back to the table, scowl still on her face. She stabbed the cake I made with a fork and shoved a tiny piece into her mouth and made a sound like “Mm” then left.My brother and I were both shocked. This was not the way this was supposed to go. We thought, well, at least I thought I could make her happy for once. As the eldest I hid my huge disappointment and cleaned up the plates. I told my brother that she must be too tired to eat and sent him to bed. But that night, in bed, I wept and wept. Because it hurt. It hurt that she didn’t like the effort and time we spent trying to make her happy. It hurt that we weren’t enough. It hurt that she didn’t even want to acknowledge our effort, let alone thank.The next days it was as if nothing had happened. I continued acting like I wasn’t hurting and my mother soon forgot about it. The event was so insignificant to her, that when I brought it up 5 years later, she couldn’t even remember us doing that. But to us we had put our heart and soul into it. Fine, maybe she was just too distracted. What hurt even more was that after saying she couldn’t remember, she accused me of being lazy while she was working. She believed I was playing games on the computer all day, never studying.As I posted here before, that was not true. I realised the importance of my grades when I was 16 so I began to study without her supervision. I was already in the top class in my high school and the teachers always had nice comments about me. I guess none of that ever mattered.After 3 years, we finally got residency. Finally, it was all over. My mother wanted to move back to the high decile range we used to live in before she got a job. Here another thing I can’t forget is what she said to me. She said that “I could have let you go to that low decile school, but I can’t imagine sending my son to the same school. He deserves better education than that, don’t you think?” I don’t know what message she was implying there, but I just remember that it really hurt.After we moved and my mum was forced to quit her job due to health conditions, she said that she had to compensate for the days she was absent from our lives…by tightening the reins. She thought that was all there was to parenting. No bonding, no spending time together, just…control. When it was not needed. She is also pessimisitc - she likes to have someone to blame for everything that goes wrong, which is more often than not either me or my brother. She criticises and berates but can’t stand disagreement.There were other things that she said and did that hurt me, and little by little it built up inside me I guess. It was worsened by the fact that I didn’t like to vent to my friends about these wounds in fear of embarrassing my family. After all, it was a sin to badmouth your parents.Even now I always feel like I’m never good enough for her. My self-esteem plummeted - I felt like I only caused troubles to those around me (I did not understand that my mother could also contribute to the problem - I just thought that I was always doing something wrong, something that wasn’t enough to fix it all. Now I realise fixing a relationship is a two-way process) and I hated myself until a couple of years ago when I went to this Christian camp. I still can’t have a smartphone or a laptop, and I still need permission to gain access to the computer. The worst thing is, my mother still doesn’t understand why I’m so hurt. Nor did she ever try to address these issues.I tried to somehow fix the broken relationship through letters - like I said before, I could never bring myself to look her in the eye so conversations with her make me uncomfortable. Say one wrong thing or do one wrong thing and it could all blow.Over the years I just thought it was my puberty and hormone-fuelled rage that were ruining it all for me. Well if it was, I shouldn’t feel the way I do as a 20 year old, right? I still struggle to accept my mother, and it’s very difficult. I find it hard to sympathise with her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I still love my mother and would do anything for her, but the hurt has built up so much that I subconsciously reject her.So moral of the story: address any issues that arise in a relationship as soon as possible. If you think you’ve hurt your child, make sure you address that, because emotional hurt lasts a looong time.P.s. dear future readers: though I appreciate the supportive comments, I am not asking for pity. I dont want it, I'm finding my own way of accepting my life. The purpose of this post was to answer the question — if you keep ignoring the hurt, eventually the daughter might find it hard to accept your actions. The hurt building up for a long time is also very hard to heal. For me, it accumulated over 18 years — even now I find it hard to make eye contact with her, I honestly dont know why.

A buddy of mine with a lot more genealogy miles on him than I have once told me, "When people die, they are disaggregated into an incomplete set of inaccurate records." All you need to do is find all of those records and you'll have an incomplete, inaccurate picture of your ancestor! Okay, that's not too helpful, but it might give you an idea what you're up against. You will want to learn as much as you can about the context of their lives - the generalities about the time and place and ethnic group and occupation. And you have to learn as many specific details as you can about them - age when married, proximity to relatives, whatever you can find. Then you have to put those together and use some imagination to flesh them out. Beware of Vanity Press articles about them. There are lots of chances to find them being described in the most flattering terms. And expect contradictions. Records and reports will not be consistent with each other. Most US researchers use the US census, which takes a nice snapshot of the family. It contains names and ages and where they were born, and perhaps where their parents were born too. There used to be many newspapers - and in many languages - that might have mentioned your guy as well. Can you find the graves? Do they have military insignia? Are there pension or payroll records for them from the Civil War or 1812 or the Rev War?I know of people who claimed they were never Irish. And I know of people who proudly claimed with without an actual irish ancestor. And be ready for things that we don't say anymore. In 1930, when JFK was a boy near Boston, every entry in the census for his neighborhood said that the people were from the "Free State." It's not obvious that it means Ireland. Give some thought to what kinds of tools might have been in their tool box. Ask relatives what foods they might have eaten. Recipes survive long after the people sometimes. Look for photos - not just of them, but of others from the same time and place. You might learn something about their clothes that way. If you can find any letters, that would be a great treasure. Or a report card. My grandfather flunking out of Oklahoma A&M before 1920 told me a lot that he never did. If you can't tell from the suggestions above, there isn't a single right way, and there isn't a single right answer. But if you open your mind to their lives, you might be surprised what the small things you can learn will tell you. How many times married? Did they immigrate - that is a huge adventure! Did they have a favorite baseball team? Go to mass or the Methodists? Every dot you can find will help you get a better idea about what they and their times were like. It might even help you understand your parents a little. The only think I ever did that was more satisfying than learning my heritage was raising kids. Good luck!

She wasnt a patient in a hospital , she was my next door neighbor .Her sister and grandson lived with her but the fought alot. The daughter died, the grandson died. The lady was 94 and her family from another state came and got what they wanted from the house and left her .I barely knew the lady she had been on the porch naked a couple of times and I took her back inside and called the police that was when her grown grandson lived their. She said she was cooler that way. I was thinking what kind of grown man let's his grandma walk around naked inside and out?I was concerned about sexual abuse and told the police I was concerned.The police were called everytime they fought.Anyway, I worked at a hospital and I went over when she came to my door and said something was wrong and she was half naked and confused.The police and an ambulance were there, her grandson was deceased. It was really a cold winter and she had the livingroom window wide open with ice on the grass , she had two electric heaters running in the livingroom.The police leave after they took the body , she is sitting on a wet couch soaked in urine. She was cold and wet. She kept saying I am not leaving my house my grandson will be back. I had to explain to her the bag on the gurney was her dead grandson.I cleaned up and took her and wiped her up and put clean clothes on her and put her bedding in my washer, I had to wash the bedding three times with vinegar to remove the smell.I fixed her bed make her soup. I asked the police on the phone who was going to watch her she could not live there alone. She was suffering from dementia and I was shocked her family just came and left her there one was a nurse.So didnt lock the front door , half the time it was open she probably needed oxygen she said she could not breath without the window or door open.I called the state elder protection , they sent a so called aid that did nothing. I got her breakfast everyday, when I got home from work I brought her supper . I got the hospital I worked at to donate a brand new mattress i threw the cushions away from the couch , brought a fold out bed in their and the mattress and got sheets for her, clean pillows from my house and bought her warm nightgowns.Sat with her si she would not to be alone to eat, wiped her body every day with a soapy rag, changed her adult diapers I bought morning and night they were soaked she was soaked everytime I went there morning and night. I counted the diaper the so called aid never changed her diapers or changed her clothes , I marked the sheets so I could tell.I called the state agency called her family , wrote to the Governor and his aid wrote me back. The last time I saw her after work she had a terrible cough ,I told her she needed to go to the emergency room and get some meds or she will have pneumonia. She refused transport. The emts said they could not make her go and I said even though she is obviously very sick and has dementia?They said no.I called everyone , wrote everyone , emailed and no one did anything . I told them she would be dead in 48 hours if she was not placed in elder care.As I cleaned her up the last night we were talking and she was eating as I had fed her she was so weak . She told me “ I am going to my home place in another state and visit my brother someday". I said honey are you getting a little old to be running around just kidding with her. She turned and looked at me and said just as serious as cancer and said “ I may be old but I still have dreams”. I was brought me to tears she still had dreams it never was something I had thought about in someone almost 100 . I figured she had probably done everything.I told her I hoped she got a chance . I made up her bed asked her if she needed anything . Put her to bed zipped her little purse she always clutched in the bed itself and showed her how to get it.I kissed her on the forehead and went home the next morning the lady across the street said she would give her breakfast.I got home from work got her clean bedding and night gown from the day before I washed last night.I got to her door it was bolted from the outside , I called the police they said she was transported during the day to a hospital. They would not tell me which one HIPAA but I could care for her for 9 days when no one else gave a damn.I went to the closest hospital I used to work there went to the elderly floor her last name or half of it was there the door was opened and she was in one of those zipped up beds. The ones that look like a birdcage or a net play pen only bigger. She was curled up and didnt recognize me. I dont know if she was medicated or had a stroke or what but her food and tea was on a tray and I asked the nurse if she was on hold or if she could eat she said she could. God forbid she do it. I fed her what she could eat she drank her liquids like a camel. I told sat with her for a while and got her less restless. She said , I am never going home again am I? I asked her if she believed in Jesus and she said yes .I told her sweetie you will go home again dont you worry. Just rest I will be back after work tomorrow.She died during the night.I didnt know she had died I called the family the next morning to be sure they knew she was bad. The daughter of the brother to the lady answered the phone , “she said how dare you call this house , what kind of person are you?” I was stunned I told her I was just letting you know she was in the hospital . She hung up . I went back to the hospital and found out she died the night before.I was so angry I felt so betrayed , by the system , by the state , by everyone that was in public office by her family. I had told the Governor of the state if this is the way we treat elderly in your state I hope you lose for president. He did.Just remember no matter how old someone is they still have a dream that they have not realized. Talk to older people . I am retired now and I have dreams still too. It is up to me to fill them because I now know no one else will.Her last days could have been better , warmer , lighter but she had the right to sit there and die alone . It almost gave me a heart attack when I was lifting on her . But I would do it again. When does a patients right over whelm a patients needs? If a patient is not functioning well and is in a dangerous situation where does the medical and government have power to step in and do the right thing?I see now I should have called the news media got television cameras in there.But she is home now with Jesus. He loves her. So do I.