Finding Family History's Pivot Points

 

Following a family's history seems to radiate the aura of tracking a straight line. Pedigree charts do seem to confirm that idea of a straight line: from self to parent to grandparent to greats and beyond, we're taken step by step back through history. The simplicity of that concept can be deceiving.

In Lydia Miller's case—that second great-grandmother of my mother-in-law—the relationship seemed almost close enough to reach out and touch. She seemed to have been born about 1820 in Perry County, Ohio, where she married William Gordon and gave him two sons. But an unexpected swerve in the family history road set her on a path that I—and several others descended from this woman—totally missed finding. Unbeknownst to us, we had stumbled upon a pivot point in her family history.

That was where I had lost her—until I reviewed her case this very month a year ago.

Though I had started work on "Lidia Miller" at the beginning of May last year, laying out all the details I had found on her life in Perry County, it wasn't until the twenty seventh day of that month that I asked the question, "What if that was all wrong?"

Sure enough, Lydia's marriage to Benedict Palmer had surfaced, and pointed me in a new direction. That, however, may not be the only pivot point we'll need to navigate as we complete the story of Lydia's life. Turning to the other side of her story, we may be in for surprises there, too.

I had already mapped out a few possibilities. Using the friends and neighbors concept, I had examined the likelihood of relationships with nearby Miller families, such as the Gordons' neighbor Johnathan Miller. From there, I discovered that Miller family's connection with another Perry County family, the Duplers. Then, following Johnathan Miller's will, and then the land records associated with his property, I ran across another linked surname, which originally appeared as Onsbaugh, but later morphed to Anspach.

Though I had—literally—mapped out the Miller property and examined names of neighbors back in Perry County, nothing definitive had popped up. It was at that end of the month when I hit the research pivot point: I discovered the information that Lydia had been married a second time. Adding that information to the family tree, complete with documentation, took up the last few remaining days of that month. I did my best to add all the descendants of this new Palmer family, then to trace all their descendants down to the current time. I'm now in the process of reaching out to these descendants to compare notes and collaborate on discovering Lydia's roots.

Now, a year later, I've finally completed that documentation process for the Palmer line of descent, but I can't say I've made any further discoveries. Still, it is important to keep track of the work already done, and to build on those discoveries. This calls for a revisit to the FamilySearch Full Text Search tool to see if anything further can be uncovered from documents on hand at that website.

Reviewing and Re-Reading

 

Sometimes, as I mentioned yesterday, a research proposal needs a Plan B. With Lydia Miller, my mother-in-law's brick wall second great-grandmother, we've tried our hand at looking to DNA testing, to no avail so far. It's time to review my research from last year, which means re-reading almost thirty posts on my research process recorded when I last visited the problem of finding Lydia in May of 2025.

The problem with my approach last year centered around one mistaken assumption: that Lydia had died young, at about the time she lost her first husband. It wasn't until nearly the end of last May's research project when I realized that error. Re-reading last year's posts on Lydia kept shining that glaring light in my eye, and I wince to think of all the time I lost with that limiting concept.

Still, there was much to glean from what I found last year. I'm in the process of reviewing all that exploration. The best approach now would be to recap the key points briefly, so we can launch from that position to wrap up our exploration this year.

While many details on this Miller case have changed year over year—including some assumptions originally provided in last year's ThruLines estimates, not to mention my assumption that Lydia was a young mother who died early—we'll use last year's explorations as our launching point to renew our exploration of just who Lydia's parents might have been. Tomorrow for our Miller Plan B, we'll start by laying out the main discoveries from last year's posts, so everyone can get up to speed and prepare ourselves to jump to the next step before the close of this month is upon us.

Mission (Almost) Impossible

 

After a wonderful holiday weekend—not to mention celebrating a blogiversary—it's time to get back to work, focusing on the May candidate for this year's Twelve Most Wanted. As we return to researching Lydia Miller, my mother-in-law's second great-grandmother, my strategy is to look to DNA testing for some guidance. I'm hoping to find DNA matches who relate to our family solely through Lydia, not in tandem with her first husband William Gordon.

That, as it turns out, appears to be mission impossible. Well, almost. Theoretically, it is possible to locate a match who is fourth cousin to my husband, the designated testing subject. But considering the relationship will technically be fourth half-cousin, based on Lydia's second marriage, the chances of finding a match vanish to very small odds.

Keeping in mind that a DNA match is exactly that—two test-taking cousins for whom DNA segments at least overlap—the more distant the cousinship, the smaller the probability that those two cousins will share genetic material. We can see that situation impacting results beginning with third cousins. And in this Lydia Miller case, we step beyond that, not just to fourth cousins, but fourth half-cousins, cutting that probability in half. Even though some of the Palmer family descendants may have tested their DNA, on average, the matches for fourth cousin would share only 0.195% of their DNA. The probability that they share genetic material with my husband could be below fifty percent at some companies—though a better chance exists at Ancestry.com, which reports a 71% probability.

Since no Palmer descendants seem to be part of our ThruLines readout, I tried a different approach. I pulled up the "Charts and Reports" option on Ancestry's ProTools, and for Lydia Miller's entry in my tree,  I drew up a descendancy report. From that, I harvested all the surnames appearing among the five generation readout. The end result: twenty nine additional surnames to research.

With that list, I'll next do a search through all DNA matches to find those who have at least one of those surnames in their tree. Granted, searching for matches with the surname Palmer in their tree might not produce anything worth following, considering how common this surname actually is. But for others, such as Eineman, Cencebaugh, Schaadt, Burdge, or Hoenie, I may have better luck—although a search like that might take far longer than the remainder of this month to complete.

Keeping that in mind, we may need to develop Plan B for finding a solution to this research problem—not to mention, finding a way to determine the identity of Lydia's own parents.   

A Mother-Daughter Remembrance

 

On a day such as this, people will display photographs of mothers, proudly posting them on social media. Some people might even share a three or four generation photo: baby, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. Me? I never had the fortune of knowing my paternal grandparents, let alone any of my great-grandmothers.

Thankfully, I have an older cousin who is prone to unearthing family records and periodically sending them to me. In the most recent package from this cousin, I found a few photos he had sent me before. I guess I can forgive such oversight; this cousin is now well into his nineties. What's important is that he knows so much about a family whose habit in past generations was to keep quiet about their origin. This cousin is indeed the relative who, if anyone did, would know the telltale details about those long-gone (and tight-lipped) ancestors.

Sure enough, this latest package inspired me to confirm those duplicates. Double-checking with some previously-sent photos located during my spring cleaning stint earlier this month, I pulled up a picture of two women with a label which, after some reflection, seemed to be slightly off.

The subjects of the picture were barely visible in this time-ravaged photograph. Thankfully, my cousin had labeled the two women, but in thinking it over, I suspect he got it wrong. He marked the younger woman, Aunt Rose, indicating in his notes that she was standing behind her sister-in-law's seated mother. But that couldn't be, I thought; now that I think about it once again, that older woman would have to be Aunt Rose's own mother.

That's when it hit me: I've had a photograph of Anastasia Zegarska all along—and I hadn't even realized it.

Viewing the photo again meant actually seeing the picture for the first time. Suddenly, I saw the lines of my dad's face in the dim outline of Anastasia's own. The forehead, the chin, the full lips—in my father's case, put to work playing the trombone for a living during the big band era. I've seen that face before. I just never realized it came from Anastasia.

Anastasia is now long gone, tragically dying by her own hand nearly a century ago. Aunt Rose, too, was a relative I never knew personally. But I can remember them, both through the age-worn photo I've encountered of them, and seen through the faces of the family I have known.

Above photo enhanced from original (but still showing darkened condition) by edits via Claude (AI) then MyHeritage. Seated is Anna Zegarska (holding a doll) with daughter Rose standing behind her, undated but taken before 1928.

  

Wouldn't Want to Count on a Holiday

 

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. But it would also be time for my biweekly count. Who wants to count names on a holiday? So I'm checking my research progress one day early.

Working on a family tree like that of my mother-in-law's second great-grandmother Lydia Miller means finding lots of collateral lines and descendants to add to the count. In addition, I'm on the hunt to find any of Lydia's descendants from her marriage to Benedict Palmer who might also have tested their DNA 

While not as robust a count as we saw in the last two-week period, I managed to find 296 more relatives to add to the snapshot of Lydia's second family. That brings the full count for my in-laws' tree to 42,921 documented individuals.

That wasn't the only family tree I worked on this month. Behind the scenes, I've been talking with a distant cousin on my own side of the family, a DNA match on the paternal side who also happens to be a thorough researcher. Together, we've been comparing notes and assigning the right spots in the family tree for each of our shared DNA matches. In the process, I added twelve more distant cousins to my own family tree, so the count there edged up to 41,938 people.

Those numbers won't stay put at that level for long. In the case of my own family, finding an unexpected close relative through DNA testing has inspired me to work further on those close family connections. And as we work our way through the puzzle of Lydia Miller's second family, I'm sure we'll have many more relatives to add to my mother-in-law's tree, too.

What if it was All for This?

 

There are times, in the course of routine work, when we find ourselves thinking, "What if this was all for nothing?" The tedium of repeated effort may lead to discouragement—to say nothing of disillusionment. Wrestling with missing, misplaced, or mangled paperwork can add to frustration as we attempt the impossible task of piecing together a paper trail leading us to the brink of our ancestors' missing stories. Sometimes, it seems to be all for nothing.

And then, some tiny point of significance shines a positive light on the frustration.

This past weekend, I became audience to the recounting of a family tale which, given all signs assumed by prior generations, was never meant to be known.

...but then, DNA...

It was earlier this spring when I alluded to an unexpected DNA discovery concerning a close connection with an adoptee. Behind the scenes, we've been communicating, first through Ancestry.com's messaging system, then by email, then by phone calls. The connection was easy to confirm; then came the stage of personal connection, and eventually this adoptee was able to meet one birth parent, face to face.

Last Sunday, I got to hear the entire story of the parent-child reunion. For me, it invoked, as one of my husband's favorite Irish authors likes to call it, a dewey-eyed moment. There is already something about the awe-inspiring mystery of genetic connection, that in-a-flash instant sensing that this is family, no matter how unknown the "stranger" may be. But to hear that such an even-closer relationship finally consummated the connection which, but for circumstances, would have been a lifelong privilege was moving beyond words.

Just hearing about that meeting left me emotionally fragile. Mulling over the full significance for days. And wondering why the knowing of it could have such an impact, even to those removed from the immediacy of the situation.

Almost instantly, the thought came to me: what if it was all for this? The relentless effort. The struggle to circumvent that abrupt stop when tracking brick wall ancestors. The frustration of paper trails vanishing just when the most-hoped-for answer seemed almost within grasp.

Somehow, that work—all of it, even the aggravating gaps—does leave a trail for others to follow. We researchers and writers throw the crumbs of our work out there—sometimes even for fifteen years at a time—and somehow a passer-by stumbles upon these tiny bits and picks up the trail. And finds an answer that means more than we can tell. 

Maybe yes, it was all for this, after all. And on the dawn of another blogiversary, I tell myself those are the finds that make it all worthwhile to keep on searching for those answers. They may be answers for me, but they may also turn into answers for someone else out there, hoping to uncover even bigger pictures of where they fit in the human family. 

Making the End Run

 

When hitting an impasse—something in genealogy akin to a "brick wall" ancestor—it is now possible to make an end run around such research roadblocks. That, in Lydia Miller's case, is what I hope to do this month with the luxury of one tool genealogists of past centuries never had: DNA testing. 

Now that I've discovered the sizable family descended from Lydia and her second husband, Benedict Palmer, I've been watching for signs of DNA matches who claim that Palmer heritage. But finding any results has, so far, been a disappointment. Just using Ancestry.com, one of five DNA companies where my husband, Lydia's descendant, has tested, I can already see that ThruLines currently lists twenty seven DNA matches for him. However, when I look to the corresponding count for William Gordon, Lydia's first husband, the match count is that same exact number.

Just to be sure, I've checked each of those twenty seven matches to ensure that they descend from both Lydia and William. Yep, that's the case, for every one of those matches. Over the weeks, no matter how many Palmer descendants I've added to my mother-in-law's family tree, that DNA match count has remained the same. I would have presumed, if anyone from the Palmer side had tested at Ancestry, that the count would be lopsided between Lydia and William Gordon, with the high score going to Lydia on account of Palmer matches. Not so, despite adding multiple Palmers to my tree.

Of course, rather than only relying on Ancestry's ThruLines tool, I can also search for matches with the Palmer surname included in their family tree—but considering how many Palmers there are out there, that search might yield more work than it's worth. 

There are other options, too. Ancestry is only one of several testing companies, and I will be scouring the data at the other DNA companies, too. In fact, one collaborator with whom I'm already corresponding actually is a DNA match through 23andMe. There may be more at MyHeritage or Family Tree DNA, too.

Another option I am taking is to look for researchers who are already demonstrating diligence in researching the same Palmer line I'm interested in. I just found one Ancestry subscriber who has been quite consistent in uploading photographs and personally-acquired documents to his tree to share with other researchers. Getting in touch with someone like that can lead to a fruitful collaboration. You can be sure I'm also keeping an eye out for anyone like that to ask to take a DNA test—especially leading up to a holiday like this weekend's Mother's Day, filled with sales offerings from testing companies.

Next week, we'll take a look at what possibilities can be out there for piecing together a family tree through DNA—but keep in mind there are caveats, as well. Still, DNA may be the best way to clarify just who Lydia Miller actually was, and at least to confirm that Lydia Gordon of Perry County, Ohio, was one and the same as Lydia Palmer of Mercer County.