Beginning at the End

 

It is interesting to read family history assertions noted by other researchers who evidently had missed the details of one or more pertinent documents. Such may have been the case, yesterday, when I mentioned a July, 1988, query from a Rainey researcher who had provided a list of "all" Thomas Rainey's children. As it happened, there was at least one family name missing—that of my second great-grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Warren Taliaferro Rainey. 

Beginning our search at the end of Thomas Rainey's life helps to fill in the picture, for there in his will, he specifically records his youngest daughter's full—and unusually long—name. Drawn up in October of 1857, the document was not entered into the record in the county of his last residence—according to the 1850 census, that would have been Coweta County, Georgia—but in the now-extinct Campbell County.

The 1850 census itself wouldn't have provided the full picture of Thomas Rainey's family, for Mary Elizabeth Warren Taliaferro Rainey had not yet been born. Not until her father's death could I find any confirmation of her birth—and that, only from inferences based on those two documents. Orphaned at a young age, then dying shortly after her own marriage, Mary Elizabeth was for a long time the missing link who kept me from connecting her to Thomas' Rainey family line.

Now, Thomas apparently has become the next pivot point in the Rainey generations. We can move from the point of his last testament filed in Campbell County, to his 1850 residence in Coweta County, and then jump to his possible residence, according to the 1820 census, in Oglethorpe County, the same Georgia location where he had married only two years earlier. But then what?

Pushing Thomas back to his origin in Virginia—his reported state of birth, according to the 1850 census—would be a different matter. No steady procession of documents could easily point the way to the late 1700s. There were, however, a few clues we could consider from what we already know. Those hints are certainly worth the try to follow.

Chasing Unanswered Questions

 

Back in July of 1988, someone from Texas posted a query in a genealogical publication called Rainey Times.

That researcher basically asked the same question I'm chasing after, nearly thirty eight years later: Who were the parents of Thomas F. Rainey? Perhaps that curious researcher back in Texas might have found the answer to that question by now, but I certainly haven't. This will be my month to see if I can.

I have some ideas about this third great-grandfather of mine, but so far, I've failed to produce satisfactory documentation linking him to his past. I did manage to discover that his middle initial—F.—likely stands for Firth. And I've also realized that the very child who is missing from that 1988 listing happened to be my own second great-grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Warren Taliaferro Rainey (yes, that was indeed her full name).

There has been a lot of time invested in learning more about this family over the years. Tracing back to those roots leading to the Rainey line has been information hard won. But I can't let that brick wall remain standing; I selected Thomas Firth Rainey as the third of my Twelve Most Wanted for 2026 in hopes of pressing back at least one more generation to his past.

While I know that Thomas Firth Rainey spent most of his adult life in the state of Georgia—marrying in Oglethorpe County in 1818 and dying in Coweta County in 1858—there is a possibility that his origin was in Virginia. At least, that's what he reported for his entry in the 1850 U.S. Census. This month will hopefully tell more of that tale.

Image of query from Rainey Times above is courtesy of the actual insertion, as shown at Ancestry.com; the image of the publication's July 1988 cover is courtesy of FamilySearch.org where the entire Volume 8 is available to view.

Looking Back, Looking Forward

 

The start of each month has me facing forward, looking at the plans from this year's Twelve Most Wanted for the upcoming month. When that starting date falls on a Sunday of my biweekly count, it also has me looking backwards at what I've accomplished in family history pursuits for the past two weeks.

Since February had me examining colonial records to see what could be discovered about my fourth great-grandfather Job Tyson—hint: it wasn't much—I didn't think I had made much progress on my family tree. Surprise: the numbers told a story that was a bit more encouraging.

Though progress wasn't galloping forward at my usual two-hundred-plus rate of the past few reports this year, in the past two weeks, I did manage to round up records for an additional 148 ancestors and their collateral lines.

Much of this was thanks to examining DNA matches linked to the Tyson line of descent, as I brought several lines down to the present time through solid documentation. There is much more work to be done on these Tyson descendants, despite my inability to identify Job's parents yet. Hopefully, in a future year, I'll narrow the possibilities from the three locations which were under consideration this month, possibly through inferences, as actual documentation has, so far, eluded me.

Bottom line in looking back is that I now have 41,722 documented individuals in my family tree. It's growing slowly but steadily. Research attempts like this month's quest to find Job Tyson's origin may have gone especially slowly, but future months may fare better.

For this upcoming month, we'll turn our attention from the coastal Georgia home where Job Tyson spent his adult years to another southern ancestor. For March, that featured research project will involve finding the roots of yet another Georgian ancestor, my third great-grandfather Thomas Firth Rainey. Again, this will be a man whose adult life can be documented through records in Georgia, but his connection to the past will involve finding colonial connections, this time possibly in Virginia.

Tomorrow, we'll take a closer look at what has already been found concerning Thomas Firth Rainey. 

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.