Community and Collaboration

 

While "community" and "collaboration" may have been the keywords around which our local family history class is focusing this semester, these words are also reflected in another way I've been reaching out, lately.

That way is connecting with individuals across the country who are also researching the same ancestors who have stumped me for years. In one particular case, those ancestors are the predecessors of my Polish paternal grandfather. Fortunately for me, there are a few others working online who are also struggling to piece together that same family line, an ocean away from that Polish homeland.

It is so encouraging to find another researcher who takes the same level of care in assuring that every statement in a family tree is supported by documentation. Over the past few months, I had noticed one Ancestry subscriber who had been seeking those same records, attaching them to the family tree, making careful notes. Turns out, that person was also my DNA match—distant, but a genetic connection. I decided to reach out by email and see what would happen.

Often, when we make such a move, in reply, we get...nothing. That kind of disappointment may make us shy away from trying to connect with anyone else. But if we never take that first step, we don't get the chance to connect with a family member who may know just the details we've been seeking.

Fortunately, in this case, I did hear back. Ever since that initial contact, my DNA cousin and I have been comparing notes and strategizing on next steps for finding our way around our brick wall ancestors. The collaboration has been energizing. And while this way of reaching out doesn't necessarily create "community" in the way an in-person genealogy class might, assembling a small group of researchers dedicated to finding the same answers does indeed foster a sense of community, even if it connects through email.

The more I think of such experiences, the more I think it is time for us to shed that image of the solitary researcher's genealogy-in-bunny-slippers and bring ourselves and our fellow researchers out into the daylight where we can work together, even if only virtually. There is no one like another "genie" who gets it when we finally find the answer we've searched for, year after year. Even if we are not researching the same ancestor, we find joy in hearing about others' research victories—sometimes, we even learn from those victories, as well.

The strength of what we are doing comes from collaboration. If great numbers of people hadn't come together to assemble collections of record sets, or develop ways to preserve documents, or become the way-finder to point others to the right collection, where would genealogy be today? On a smaller scale, if it weren't for the local groups of people who helped each other learn and improve their research skills, many of us would not have been able to find as much as we have concerning our roots.

Sure, technology has played a big part in the many advancements we enjoy today, but technology alone can't leave that personal touch that makes family history come alive. Community and collaboration have both been in genealogy's history. They need to continue being part of the balancing act with technology that allows genealogy as a pursuit to become meaningful to many in the future. 

Less Than a Week

 

Less than a week away, the first sessions of RootsTech 2026 will open the most-anticipated genealogy event of the year. While it may be too late to purchase tickets and fly to Salt Lake City to attend in person, the online option is free to attend, and it's not too late to choose your preferred classes.

Sessions of this international conference begin on the afternoon of Wednesday, March 4, and run nearly around the clock through a full day that Saturday—and even into the wee hours of Sunday, March 8, for the benefit of those viewers who live halfway around the world.

Setting up a watch schedule is easy on the RootsTech scheduler. The hardest part, perhaps, might be assembling a workable watch list; there are so many choices. No matter; those sessions which have been recorded will be available for you to watch at your leisure for months to come. The real trick may just be remembering to watch all the goodies you've selected for yourself from this genealogy candy shoppe.

Since I've recently been wrestling with my Polish ancestry, I was glad to see there were class selections for that particular subject. But if Polish is not your family's story, there are other possibilities to view: French, German, or Italian for those of European heritage, for instance. But the picture expands so much farther than that. There are several sessions on researching Chinese or Japanese roots. Classes of interest to those seeking their African, Jewish, or Native American roots mingle with the forward-thinking meetings involving emerging technologies, such as AI use for genealogy.

Some of the most convenient resources we use today in our search for the history of our ancestors were first introduced to researchers at past RootsTech conferences. This is the place to discover the latest developments in that quest to tap into our ancestors' past, as well as hone our researching skills and broaden our knowledge base in the process. 

While nothing can replace the excitement of attending RootsTech in person at the Salt Palace, the online experience does what it can to include viewers in the full RootsTech experience. Classes provide a chat channel specific to each session's topic. You can opt in to search for Relatives at RootsTech. There's even an Online Expo Hall Tour. 

Who knows? At RootsTech, you might discover your latest can't-live-without-this research tool—or better yet, find a cousin to collaborate with on that mutual brick-wall ancestor.

When Those Hunches Say "Yes!"

 

After observing participants in online classes and during local genealogical society meetings online, I've noticed how lackluster the mood seems in comparison to what I remembered of in-person events. I had a hunch that, as Marshall McLuhan once put it, the medium is still very much the message. I decided to experiment and find a way to return to teaching genealogy classes in person.

That opportunity hit the start button this week with the first session of a course I team teach with another genealogical society member. With enough students registered to populate a small classroom—yet small enough to allow for interpersonal feedback without breaking the system—those post-Covid hunches turned out to say an enthusiastic "yes!"

Granted, straight-up lectures have lost their luster, no matter whether in person or online. For the type of classes that people attend "just for fun," facing down one hour of sheer listening can dampen the collective enthusiasm. Perhaps that should be no surprise. But I like to attribute the energy emanating from this week's classroom to more than just that. People want to share. They want to be able to contribute their piece to the conversation. They want what they have to offer to matter to others. They want to create "us."

As expected, this week's first class gave each attendee the opportunity to share something they knew that could help others. It allowed them to share where they are in their journey to uncover their family's history—a struggle each of us can relate to. And it gave them permission to try out something new, while gaining confidence to experiment in an environment where others were there at their side to help them through the process. We had each other's back.

Yes, this was the first class. There's much more to come. This may not be an experience for everyone. But it was a chance to test a hunch and bring it through to a workable solution to the isolation of online-only gatherings. We need ways to come back together again meaningfully.

Certainty Without Documentation

 

It's the end of another month, and I'm ready to grumble. My goal for this month was to break through the brick wall keeping me from discovering my fourth great-grandfather Job Tyson's parents. Though I've become weary with reading the scribbled handwriting in court records, I've yet to find any documentation to confirm what others have asserted in either today's online resources or the published reports of past generations. 

That tour of the documents has brought me through Pitt County in North Carolina, Beaufort County in South Carolina, and Wayne and Glynn Counties in Georgia—not to mention that detour to follow his wife's genealogy back to her Sheffield grandfather in Duplin County, North Carolina. Though it was not lost upon me that Pitt County was once known as Beaufort County, North Carolina—a possible source of confusion for researchers—I have not unearthed one document on Job Tyson's related family lines which could point me backwards in time, with the possible exception of his father-in-law West Sheffield's 1830 will.

Yet, in reviewing genealogies which include this family, I notice how certain those reports sound about their assertions concerning Job's roots. How do so many people seem to know this? If they have found a source to support that published information, it would help to be able to review such records. 

With the last day of this short month drawing closer, I doubt I'll find any success in continuing the search in such a limited time. As we complete this week, we'll lay aside this research goal and check in on a few other projects which I've been working on, behind the scenes, from earlier this year.

Since We're in the Neighborhood

If this month's research project—finding the origin of my fourth great-grandfather Job Tyson—has led me to the discovery that Job's wife may have come from Duplin County, North Carolina, we might as well take a closer look. Since we're now in the neighborhood, I thought I'd do some exploring. It helps to get oriented to the places our ancestors once called home.

For that task, my first stop is to glean an overview from various "wiki" resources. Among them are the Wikipedia entry for Duplin County, and the FamilySearch wiki for the same location. 

Using Wikipedia is one quick way to learn about a location from a more modern point of view. County entries usually contain an overview of the place, as far as current-day details are concerned. These entries usually also provide a map and, more suited to my purposes, a brief history of the county which, depending on the time frame of each particular ancestor, may still shed some light on my search. One basic detail I look for is the date in which the county was formed, and which counties preceded that formation, in case I need to delve further into records created in a different location prior to that point.

From the Wikipedia entry for Duplin County, I can see that county was carved out of New Hanover County in 1750. Since Job Tyson's father-in-law West Sheffield was likely born in 1747, that tells me I might need to explore New Hanover County records as well—if any church or land records before that time had survived the series of record destructions incurred over the next couple centuries. More to my current pursuit, however, would be the marriage record for West Sheffield's daughter Sidnah to my brick wall ancestor, Job Tyson.

Regarding record survival over the ages, I generally turn to my second resource for scoping out the neighborhood: the FamilySearch wiki. The specific resource there for Duplin County shows me the battle against the ravages of time may have put me on the losing side. There are land records from 1749 and court records from 1784, but the FamilySearch wiki included a disappointing note: "Many court records are missing."

Still, that means some court records may still be accessible. Although I've been forewarned, now that I know, it's worth a try to check it out. 

Bypassing "Go"

 

Remember that old game, Monopoly, where if you drew the "go to jail" ticket, the instructions told you "do not pass Go; do not collect $200." If the game I've been playing this month were called "Geneapoly," that's exactly the card I'd be dealt now. I don't seem to be able to move anywhere. I'm stuck in genealogy jail.

Since I haven't been able to push back time far enough to find my fourth great-grandfather Job Tyson in records before his arrival in Georgia at the beginning of the 1800s, I thought of a way to bypass "Go"—I could try one other variation on the F.A.N. Club concept. I could look deeper into his wife's family history.

Job's first wife, Sidnah—also called Sidney—Sheffield, was said to have been born in North Carolina. That location was the same as the place where Job Tyson may have originated. Granted, I've tried two different times to locate any mention of Job in North Carolina—and failed. But I'm willing to enter this playing field from yet another angle.

I already have seen mention of Sidnah's father, West Sheffield, being from North Carolina. In fact, he was said to have been a Patriot by the Daughters of the American Revolution. Not that the applications for his eligible descendants all perfectly documented that assertion; even there, the D.A.R. has found problems. 

No matter. That organization also pointed out one other detail of interest: that West Sheffield's father was also listed as a Patriot. Sure enough, looking at the D.A.R. website, I found an entry for John Sheffield, West Sheffield's dad, as well.

In that file, his origin was said to be in North Carolina. But none of this Pitt County stuff that had waylaid me for so long in my search for Job Tyson last week. This time, the North Carolina location was said to be Duplin County, instead.

Armed with this information, I headed to FamilySearch.org and their Full Text Search option to look for a Sheffield will that mentioned Job Tyson's father-in-law, West Sheffield. And just as the D.A.R. entry for John Sheffield had implied, there was a will in Duplin County for him, dated the same day, November 22, 1790, as the D.A.R. entry had noted. Added bonus: the will contained mention of a son named West Sheffield.

If West Sheffield's daughter Sidnah was said to have been born in North Carolina, could that specific location have also been in Duplin County? What about her marriage record? And if her future husband found his bride in North Carolina, does that mean I can find Job Tyson in Duplin County, as well? If nothing else, this discovery points me in another direction than those failed attempts at finding him in Pitt County. Maybe I can get out of Geneapoly jail, after all.

Looking Every Which Way

 

It's official: I'm stuck—at least on my goal to find the parents and origin of my fourth great-grandfather Job Tyson. I'm beginning to wonder whether he used an alias. Or spontaneously appeared out of thin air. Or contrived a way to make all his tell-tale documents self-combust. He simply isn't there to find.

Not being able to look backwards in time on this brick wall ancestor, I've turned to looking every which way. If I can't find him in his earlier years in life, perhaps looking at his children's history—and then expanding to collateral lines—might reveal some secrets.

With that in mind, I turned back to my DNA matches. At Ancestry.com, at least, I've got thirty eight DNA cousins who connect with me through that Tyson line. I figured this weekend might be a good time to catch up on that task.

As it turns out, I haven't yet made any revolutionary discoveries, but I did notice one detail: at least for the Tyson descendants in my match list, it seemed they followed the same path from Georgia to northern Florida. In fact, as I looked at the documents for these grandchildren and beyond, I spotted some of the same towns mentioned in my McClellan family history. This extended family did seem to stick together. Signs of F.A.N. Club cohesion seem to be everywhere, at least in some Tyson lines. 

Perhaps this is a good sign. It is a reminder, at least as I seek Job Tyson's roots, that perhaps he did travel to Georgia in the company of others. His descendants certainly stuck to that rule of thumb as they moved onward from Georgia.

It will be quite some time before I finish documenting each of those DNA cousins' lines of descent. Hopefully, as I move through the list, there will be other encouraging signs. A big plus would be connecting with a DNA cousin who inherited the family Bible, or family letters, or any other personal guidance pointing back to Job's origin before his arrival in Glynn County, Georgia.

At least, one can hope.