Each Step Makes the Next One Easier

 

As I work through the finishing touches of last month's research project, adding DNA matches to my mother-in-law's Jackson ancestors, I realized one encouraging detail. For every DNA match whose place I secured in her family tree, it made the next step easier to complete.

There are requisite tools to have at hand in order to make such a statement. I'm working now on those Jackson DNA matches by way of Ancestry.com's ThruLines tool, along with their ProTools capability of listing shared matches. Each identified match fills a known place in the family tree, thus becoming a beacon of relationship for all the others in this line, no matter how small the match may be.

The last time I checked, that Jackson progenitor, Lyman, had seventy three matches listed in his ThruLines results. But for each of those seventy three, there are multiple others who show up if I click on the Shared Matches tab under ProTools. Many of those share very little genetic material with my husband, the proxy test taker for this project. Yet, bit by bit, identifying each one's place in the Jackson family presents a second helpful clue by showing me how even more mystery matches fit into the tree.

It's amazing to see how many DNA matches turn out to have siblings, parents or children, or close cousins who have also tested. Identifying one's place in the tree brings the others into the picture more clearly, multiplying my effort. All I need to do is keep at it, adding more and more matches until I run out of options. Then, usually after a short waiting period, even more DNA matches show up—perhaps thanks to a Father's Day sale or other promotion—and the relationship clues help zero in on where the newer ones belong, as well.

I'm still quite a long way from completing those seventy three ThruLines matches—plus those other affiliated cousins—but it has helped find some otherwise invisible Jackson descendants. Of course, only six of the original thirteen children of Lyman Jackson have appeared in those DNA results, represented by their descendants, but I'm hoping this process will coax some of the other Jackson lines out of their hiding places and onto my mother-in-law's family tree. 

Dime a Dip

 

Yesterday's summer cleaning adventures—both of the real-life and genealogical kind—brought to mind some unexpected memories. On the real life front, cleaning projects unearthed an unused gift certificate for one hundred dollars—an impressive gift when it was received years ago, though just enough to purchase a decent restaurant dinner for two nowadays.

A day's worth of such discoveries, going through old files in the summer heat, was enough to prompt our family to head to our favorite ice cream shop after dinner. That, in turn, put me in mind of the dime-a-dip ice cream parlors of bygone years. Perhaps it was owing to the many projects unfolding during the day in our family—our daughter was helping a friend explore potential real estate projects, comparing prices today with original purchase prices on eighty year old homes—that put me in mind of an entire world of dime a dip life.

Meanwhile, on the genealogical front, I was delving into my mother-in-law's Jackson roots, a reach so far removed from today's generation that I barely can find matches who reach a mere ten centiMorgans of shared genetic material. As rarified as that "dime" of genetic material may seem in today's inflated economy, just like the dime-a-dip of the ice cream world, it can yield some useful results. 

This was my day to chase those "shared matches" of Jackson descendants to help build out that family tree. Simply by using the ThruLines results for Lyman Jackson, my mother-in-law's fourth great-grandfather, I used as a next step the "Shared matches" option from Ancestry's ProTools to find close relatives to each Jackson DNA match.

One after another, those mystery matches who shared such dime-sized genetic results helped guide me to build out that Jackson branch on my in-laws' tree. Yes, of course I used documentation to verify connections; it's just that without that chain of discoveries, I would otherwise not have known to even look in those directions.

Such small DNA matches are often lost in the myriad results at the bottom of the pile. They otherwise would have totally stumped me—if I even bothered to try connecting them to the family tree. But with the right tools, and a huge helping of patience added to the mix, it is possible to let each match find a place in the family tree, no matter how small. 

A DNA Housecleaning

 

Face it: when confronted with twenty thousand DNA matches, it's hard to place those distant relatives in their place on the family tree. Far easier to concentrate on the other, smaller category—fourth cousins or closer—for whom we have much better chances of confirming connections.

But—and there always is a caveat—since I've decided to pursue DNA cousins who share descent from my mother-in-law's fourth great-grandparents Lyman and Deidama Jackson, her proxy test volunteer (her son, my husband) must find connections with matches who are at least sixth cousins. That's where we start dipping into that larger pool of twenty thousand contestants. Facing a number like that, it's time for a DNA housecleaning.

That larger pool of possible cousins is further restricted by genetic limitations. After about the level of third cousin,  some distant relatives will share no identifying genetic material at all with a percentage of their cousins. That is not to say, of course, that there is no DNA shared at all. There is a high percentage of genetic material that all human beings have in common—it's just that the selected SNPs that genealogy companies use to identify closer family connections may not include the array of items passed down from specific distant ancestors.

However, combining use of both a paper trail of documented family connections and data about distant DNA matches may still confirm a distant cousin's place in the family tree, despite sharing only a small number of centiMorgans. In such cases, what I've done is build out the lines of descent from the distant ancestor—the Jackson line in this case—then move from already-confirmed known cousins to "shared matches" identified by tools such as Ancestry's ProTools.

Of Lyman Jackson's thirteen children, there are six whose descendants are itemized in the ThruLines listing at Ancestry.com. Of course, the bulk of those matches come from John Jackson's own line, which is the line of descent leading to my mother-in-law. However, through this process I've managed to connect the majority of other ThruLines Jackson cousins to her family tree.

From that point, my next step is to take each one of those verified Jackson cousin matches and open the "Shared Matches" tab on their own entry. I then look to see how many of those connected cousins I can trace through the family tree. Sometimes, that task presents problems, but in many cases, that two-step sweep leads to discovering other Jackson descendants among those twenty thousand distant matches. And each match confirmed makes the next ones easier to place, as we place more pieces of the puzzle where they belong in the tree.

From there, it's basically "rinse and repeat" as far as I can go with that same process. Bit by bit, it opens up possibilities for where DNA matches fit in the bigger picture of a much-extended family tree. 

More Month Than Projected

 

I remember a phrase from my starving student years, something about always having more month than money. I've always hated running out, no matter what supply was dwindling too fast for comfort. Thankfully, I'm far from those student years, but I still struggle with any sense of not having enough.

How strange it is, then, to find myself with more month than research project. With each month's Twelve Most Wanted candidate, I usually run out of material to secure my research goal before I get to the close of each month. What a shift it has been to find myself ten days away from the start of a new month, yet finished with the goal for that time period.

What to do next? Granted, I could just jump ahead and move on to July's project. With the shift in this upcoming quarter from my mother-in-law's family to that of my father-in-law, that might work, but it would take a leap from colonial American research to the brick wall woes of tracing Irish immigrants back to their beloved homeland. That may become a project never completed, no matter how many months are allotted to the effort.

However, there are so many odds and ends scattered in my wake as I plow through those family history questions each month. What comes to mind most are the DNA connections hinted at, but never quite confirmed, from the collection of literally thousands of matches. 

I'm thinking mostly of the thirteen children of Lyman and Deidama Jackson, whose lives spanned the era in which a nation was birthed. When we last left that endeavor to document the Jackson family, all thirteen children had been identified—barely. There is so much more yet to do.

There are now seventy three DNA cousins among my husband's Jackson matches, according to Ancestry's ThruLines tool, cousins who descend from that couple we had followed for April's version of this year's Twelve Most Wanted. It's time to wrap up those dangling strands and tie them into this family tapestry. Sounds like a "summer cleaning" project to me.

Tipping Towards Summer

 

Perhaps there's something about passing the longest day of the year that begs me to crest other tipping points. We've waved the flag for Flag Day and bid everyone a happy Juneteenth while celebrating dads and the last of the grads. It's time to get on with summer. For some reason, I'm already chomping at the bit to move on with my next project before July ever gets here.

First, though, comes some spring cleaning. Yes, I know we are officially into summer already, but there is no such picturesque way to classify summer cleaning. Dusty, sweaty, and chores are words that come to mind for such a designation, but what I've been working on in the past two weeks has edged into something far less distasteful than that.

Having decided that I'm as good as done with this month's research project—finding the roots of Elizabeth Plummer Ijams, my "Twelve Most Wanted" for June—I decided to do some cleaning up of old projects which didn't have the luxury of acquiring the satisfying label of "done."

First on the list was to return to May's research project, my quest to discover the parents of my mother-in-law's brick wall ancestor, Lydia Miller. I continued building out the lines of descent for three DNA matches sharing ancestors by the name of Anspach, a surname strangely linked to the circle of people connected with Lydia in her earliest years. There's still a lot of work yet to do, but I'm edging closer. Maybe next year, I'll finally cross that finish line.

Next came a general housecleaning of all the open tabs on my computer. When I am building out a line of descent, I keep a tab open specifically for that family. Locking that tab in place allows me to return to the place where I last left off with that family, making it easy for me to pick up the trail at a moment's notice. I went through each of those tabs—after a year or so, that collection can grow cumbersome—and deleted those which are not on my research radar at this point.

That process left me with some Polish lines remaining from my father's ancestry, plus some other more recent lines I'm still wrestling with. All that considered, I actually gleaned eighteen more names for my father's side of the family tree, so that count edges up to 41,957 documented people.

The main focus for this month—actually, the culmination of three months' work—has been my mother-in-law's family. Granted, I didn't add many people this month as I wandered through reports of colonial family in 1600s Maryland, mostly because seventh through tenth great-grandparents won't add much meaningful data for my quest to place DNA cousins in that tree. But in returning to Lydia's project—a much closer reach for my mother-in-law's second great-grandmother—I had plenty to add to that tree.

All told, the past two weeks advanced the count by less than usual—166 new relatives—due to the different nature of the work on those Maryland ancestors. My in-laws' tree now contains 43,629 documented individuals, a number that will remain at about that level as we close out this month's research project.

For the last few days of this month, I'll revisit a few of those older projects and provide updates. After that point, we'll jump into summer both feet first as we move from my mother-in-law's family to my father-in-law's Irish roots. Hopefully, new resources there will allow for some encouraging progress in our research for that side of the family. 

Stepping Backwards to Move Forward

 

Sometimes, a step backwards can get us moving forward.

After working on my mother-in-law's Ijams and Plummer line for half a month, I thought I'd check on the most distant ThruLines report for that family line at Ancestry's DNA to see if there were any updates. There were—well, there were, if you count a diminishing number of results as progress. 

In the past, Ancestry's ThruLines had shown five or six children descending from William Ijams, grandson of Elizabeth Plummer Ijams, and fifth great-grandfather of my husband, who is the surrogate tester standing in for my mother-in-law. Today, however, there were only two descending lines, and each of them, thankfully, can be confirmed through documentation.

Since connections with fifth great-grandparents is as far back as ThruLines shows for autosomal DNA tests, William himself would have to stand in as proxy for his paternal grandparents' DNA composition—the best I could do under these testing conditions.

Today, however, those stray other lines—names listed in previous ThruLines results that I hadn't been able to confirm through documentation—have simply vanished. Poof! If the DNA test candidates represented by those ThruLines results were indeed distant cousins, they obviously must have been connected through a different genetic route. Perhaps, someone had presumed there was a connection and had made a mistaken entry in their own tree which, repeated as others copied that tree, got picked up by ThruLines.

Though it is theoretically possible to find DNA matches who share a most "recent" common ancestor at a level of seventh great-grandmother, as Elizabeth Plummer Ijams would have been to my husband, it is not likely to confirm such a match. On average, DNA matches who are eighth cousins, as such a descent from seventh great-grandmother would yield, would share 0.000763% of their genetic makeup, according to a chart drawn up by Hope Carnicle, reported by a post on the ISOGG.org wiki.

In other words, eighth cousins could share up to forty two centiMorgans. Or they could share none.

In most cases, we'd never see such DNA matches, because the odds are against us. In my mother-in-law's case, a second strike would come in the form of multiple intermarriages over those many generations spanning her family's heritage, so even if a segment match registered, we'd have to delve deeper to determine which ancestor actually contributed that match. It might not be the ancestor we were suspecting.

In the end, while this change in results at Ancestry's ThruLines report doesn't strictly lead us to matches who share Elizabeth Plummer's DNA, it does zero in on those matches who actually were descendants of Elizabeth's grandson William Ijams. A far more accurate report may do nothing more than bolster my confidence in the tool, but a gesture like that can go a long way, in my opinion.

Building out the Lines

With one week devoted to wrapping up Lydia Miller's story and another week tracking Elizabeth Plummer Ijams, the current biweekly report has produced 287 new additions to my in-laws' family tree. Granted, most of that increase is due to building out the lines of descent for Lydia's two families—Gordon and Palmer—but I suspect we still have much more to learn about this month's Plummer and Ijams pursuit.

With those newly-added relatives, that tree now includes 43,463 documented individuals. Of course, while I focus on my mother-in-law's sixth great-grandmother Elizabeth this month, there's hardly time to take a peek at my side of the family. That tree now is holding at 41,939 individuals, and will likely remain that way until the fall, when I turn to my father's tree.

Meanwhile, with this coming week, it will be back to the records, seeking mention of yet another invisible woman, this time in documents from the late 1600s and early 1700s.

Whether digging deeply into colonial Maryland records produces the same amount of resources for the Plummers as Lydia's nineteenth-century lifespan yielded for us last month is yet to be seen. Right now, the quest for Elizabeth's story involves far more searching than it does documentation. Thankfully, there are some trailblazers out there to help guide our research path. We'll take a peek at what can be found in the writings of one genealogist tomorrow. 

Taking a Tip From Last Month

 

Since June is my month to research my mother-in-law's Ijams ancestors, I've been stretching back through the generations far beyond the usual reach of autosomal DNA testing. After all, Elizabeth Plummer was my mother-in-law's sixth great-grandmother, thus making her seventh great-grandmother to the surrogate test taker in this line (my husband). It would be a rare hit indeed to be able to find a DNA match who was an eighth cousin descended from that seventh great-grandmother.

Rare—but not impossible. Keeping in mind my experience from last month's research project, I thought I'd take a tip from what I did to find—and isolate—matches who were related to Lydia Miller. Last month, I used an unusual but related surname which I knew would be far easier to isolate than the ubiquitous Miller surname. I then took that surname—Anspach—and plugged it into the search bar for all my husband's DNA matches. That was how I came up with three viable Miller DNA matches without having to sort through numerous unrelated Millers.

This month, I'm looking for a maiden name which, although not as common as Miller, certainly is more popular than Anspach. I took that Plummer surname and repeated the process I had used to figure out how Lydia Miller's unknown ancestors connected to my mother-in-law's family.

I can't say that I had the same luck I had experienced with the previous month's process. Apparently, there were more Plummers in collateral branches of our DNA matches than I had seen for last month's Anspach attempt. 

Thinking again, I decided to try that same approach with a variation: instead of Plummer, I next searched for Ijams. But Ijams starts to edge into "endogamy lite" territory. The search results brought up matches who descended from related surnames which have also woven themselves into this intermarried family. That wasn't going to lead me to any answers, either.

Apparently, every research quest varies enough to require a different approach. Last month's tip doesn't seem to work for this month's research problem. While I did find a place in the family tree for several interrelated Metzger and Snyder DNA matches connected to this line, this still leaves me searching for any Plummer-Ijams matches among the thousands yet to place in my mother-in-law's tree.

While the forward-looking approach hasn't yielded any discoveries this month, perhaps delving back into Maryland history may provide some insight in the Plummer family and how they got from the home they left in the mother country to a fresh settlement in a wild and new world.

Messy or Not, it's Time to Move on

 

Despite a messy research detour while puzzling over Lydia Miller's roots, at the end of the month, it's time to move on. My mother-in-law's second great-grandmother will have to remain a mystery for another year.

Still, there are several observations gleaned from this month's meandering research trajectory. Most helpful was the realization that my husband, the designated DNA tester for this line, had matches reaching back to ancestors bearing that same Miller surname. My goal this month was to isolate those DNA matches who, while related through a Miller line, were not connected through any of the other intermarried lines from my mother-in-law's "endogamy lite" family.

This process yielded DNA matches whose founding ancestor—at least as far as we can tell at this point—was either Jonathan Miller (of unknown parentage) or Solomon Miller, son of George. 

While I wore myself to the bone searching for ancestral connections preceding those Miller men, in retrospect, it occurred to me that perhaps seeking Miller roots might have been the wrong approach. There might have been a second way these Millers were related: through their wives. Jonathan Miller, for instance, had married Catharine Dupler. Solomon Miller, while marrying a woman whose maiden name has seen various spelling permutations—Auspaugh or Anspaugh—may actually have been the son-in-law of David Anspach of Perry County, Ohio.

If that were the case, David's sister Anna Elizabeth Anspach would actually be mother of Jonathan Miller's wife, Catharine Dupler. In other words, Catharine Dupler Miller and Malinda Anspaugh Miller would have been first cousins. The grandfather they shared in common would be Johann Adam Anspach.

Whether that means my mother-in-law shared that Anspach ancestor, I can't yet say, though it is now obvious that these two Miller wives whose descendants ever so slightly match my husband's DNA must be in the picture for future research. Finding Lydia Miller's roots will need to be an ongoing project for next year, but finding that connection through their wives, not the Miller husbands, is at least an encouraging discovery to reference the next time we return to this research puzzle.

Messy Discoveries

 

While family history researchers may hope for a streamlined outline of their ancestors' key life events, that is not always how the search progresses. When it comes to piecing together supporting documentation, there may be twists and turns. Today, I ran into one messy discovery that seems to turn the Miller family story on its head.

Having found the 1850 census showing Solomon Miller's widowed mother Catharine still living in Perry County, Ohio—and not in Indiana, as one biographical sketch of Solomon's life had claimed—I decided to look for corroborating evidence. 

Stop one was to look for what became of the two other people living in the widow's 1850 household. While I have yet to figure out who the child, Ann Boyer, might have been, verification on Catharine's mother, Catharine Humberger, was easier to find. At Find A Grave, Catharine Humberger's still legible headstone showed her burial place to be at the Zion Reformed Lutheran Cemetery in Thornville, Ohio, a village situated in Perry County's Thorn Township, where we had found her living in the 1850 census.

As often appears in Find A Grave entries, this memorial for Catharine Humberger included information provided by volunteers. A note indicated that this Catharine's maiden name was Snider, a pertinent discovery for tracing my mother-in-law's line, which is full of Sniders. A Find A Grave volunteer also provided links to three other memorials related to this Catharine, including one for Catharine Humbarger Miller, the mother of the Solomon we've been researching this week.

Looking at that linked memorial for Catharine, Solomon's mother, brought with it a surprise: according to that volunteer-provided information, Catharine was married twice. Her marriage to George Miller came after her previous marriage to someone named Herbert Winegardner.

Perry County being what it is—a place where many longstanding residents found themselves related to each other in multiple ways—this was not encouraging news for a researcher using DNA testing. Not only would the Snider connection cause problems seeking clarity on the Miller line, but my mother-in-law's Perry County roots—to say nothing of my father-in-law's connections there—intertwine with the Winegardner surname as well.

The Find A Grave information indicated that the Winegardners had a daughter born in 1816, as well as a son born in 1820, the same year as Herbert's death in 1820. That would explain the female in Catherine Miller's entry in the 1830 census, long after the deaths of both her husbands, Herbert Winegardner and George Miller—and discard my hoped-for resolution of where Lydia Miller, my mother-in-law's second great-grandmother, fit into the picture.

That, at least, was according to the entries provided by Find A Grave volunteers. You know I had to check those details.

My first stop was to look for a marriage record for Herbert Winegardner and Catharine Humbarger. Voila! Thanks to FamilySearch.org, in a snap, I found a handwritten—and rambling—entry in the records for a May 7, 1816, marriage in Fairfield County for "Harbert" Winegardner and Catharine "Humbarge." (The record also indicated an alternate spelling as Humberger.) And the location in Fairfield County? Not to worry: Perry County wasn't established until two years later, when it was carved from Fairfield County in 1818.

So far, so good, right? Next step was to look for a marriage record for George Miller and a widowed Catharine Winegardner. Easy peasy: an 1823 entry, possibly signed by the same minister who had performed the earlier Winegardner marriage in Fairfield County, verified the Miller-Winegardner ceremony.

But wait! There is a problem with that second record. If Solomon's father George Miller died three months before Solomon was born in 1822, it would have been an eerily otherworldly ceremony indeed, if his father married his mother almost a year after that point. Not to mention, ten years after Herbert Winegardner supposedly died in 1820, there was someone by that name still showing in the 1830 census back in Fairfield County.

Complicating matters was the discovery that there might have been two Catharine Humbergers in Perry County, a discovery I made while mulling over all the Humberger men showing in Thorn Township in the 1830 census, some of whom were listed on the very page where I spotted Catharine Miller. Not to mention, after the demise of our short-lived George Miller, two others by that same name remained in Perry County in 1830, making it quite possible that we've been chasing the paper trail for the wrong name twins.

One result of these messy discoveries was to turn back once again to the published biographical sketch mentioning Catharine's son Solomon Miller. That 1907 narrative mentioned that Solomon's parents, George and Catharine, had been parents of ten children, the youngest of whom was Solomon himself. The three children counted in the Miller entry for the 1830 census were hardly ten, but perhaps they also didn't represent the two presumed Winegardner children.

With differentiating between name twins and ferreting out corroborating details, we may be facing some tree-building exercises for an ever-expanding Humberger family line. Or perhaps, delving into the identity of Ann Boyer, that mystery child in Catharine's 1850 household, might provide a shortcut to the answer identifying the right Catharine.

Nothing is Ever Easy

 

I've said it before. I'll say it again: nothing is ever easy. In research, this limiting factor gives rise to warnings such as "don't believe everything you read" and other sayings. In the case of Solomon Miller and his parents, George Miller and Catharine Humbarger, we are about to see that sentiment played out for us. This, I discovered while congratulating myself on perhaps solving the puzzle of just where my mother-in-law's second great-grandmother Lydia Miller might have originated. It's time to think again.

Thanks to a distant DNA match to my husband who directed my attention to Solomon Miller, I had found two biographical sketches regarding this man. Looking more closely at the more detailed sketch from Whitley County, Indiana, I thought I'd use the details to point the way to Solomon's roots. 

According to the narrative in the 1907 publication, History of Whitley County, Indiana, I gleaned three particular guiding details:

• Solomon's parents, George and Catharine, had moved from Pennsylvania to Perry County, Ohio.
• George and Catharine were parents of ten children.
• When Solomon moved west to Indiana about 1843, he was accompanied by his wife, his daughter, and his widowed mother. 

As I began tracing those details, it became obvious that those three hallmark details from the Whitley County biography were not entirely correct. There were, apparently, missing parts of the story involving not only what happened after Solomon married Malinda Anspaugh, but also what happened before Solomon's own birth.

Those missing parts may turn out to embed key details of an untold story, if what I'm finding in documentation turns out to tell a fuller version of the same couple's history. George and Catharine may both, for instance, have come from Pennsylvania, but they may not have migrated at the same time. Also, between the two of them, George and Catharine may have claimed ten children, but not all from the same marriage—a detail which will take some research to not only confirm but clarify. And the widowed Catharine may not have been her son's constant companion in his journeys westward to Indiana.

Knowing that Miller was such a common surname in Ohio back then as it is today, we'll need to tread carefully through the archived details pertaining to our couple's life story. There may have been much more than what was told in that handy published biographical sketch. Then again, those details could have been a story reserved for another couple by the name of George and Catharine Miller. It's up to us to uncover the full report.

Add Another Name to the Miller Network

 

Sometimes, we need to broaden the circle when searching for a mystery ancestor. In the case of Lydia Miller, my mother-in-law's brick wall second great-grandmother, finding the identity of her parents has been a process of building an ever-expanding network of possible Miller relatives. This week, we'll add yet another name to this Miller network, and hope it leads us closer to an answer.

One DNA match linked to my husband's line stretches back to someone possessing a given name which seemed to be favored by the other Ohio Miller families I've already been researching: Solomon. How could I not check out such a family line with a clue like that?!

There was a lot to learn about this particular Miller man. Fortunately, there were two resources which had published details on his biography. One was shared by a subscriber to Ancestry.com. The other was embedded within the biography of a man who turned out to become one of Solomon's many sons-in-law.

Both biographies, however, were published concerning the early history of Whitley County—a location in the state of Indiana, not Ohio. Fortunately, the narrative in each entry provided a trail back to the very place in Ohio where I had been left, stumped, with Lydia.

About this Solomon, he had one other detail going for him: it turns out that he apparently was born in Perry County, Ohio, the same location of Lydia's birth and first marriage.

Finding details on Solomon's parents became my next step. Each of the two biographies identified his parents as George Miller and Catharine Humbarger. Each story also included another detail: that Solomon's father had died in Ohio—in fact, three months before he was born.

Solomon, according to these resources, was born July 22, 1822, not long after Lydia was born. That his father George left Solomon an orphan at birth also meant that any other children born to George and Catharine would have been orphaned, as well.

Such a scenario also would have provided an explanation for someone like Lydia, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, disconnected from any parents or other siblings before her marriage in Perry County at a young age in 1838.

Whether Lydia was connected to Solomon and, by extension, his parents, will be challenging to confirm. We'll first need to explore what further details can be discovered on both George Miller and his widow, the former Catherine Humbarger. Then we'll need to see whether there are any additional records which can help us piece together the story of Lydia's early years in Perry County—and the rest of the story about the widowed Catherine and the possible other Miller children she may have left behind when she moved with her son to Indiana. 

On the D N A Trail

 

Looking for a way to connect a brick wall ancestor with her parents will hopefully lead to answers through DNA testing. I've been on that DNA trail for Lydia Miller's ancestors for weeks now. While nothing positive has shown up yet, it's surprising how many possibilities lead me down different paths, all pointing to different Miller progenitors.

This coming week, we'll look at yet another family branch claiming Miller roots. In the meantime, we'll take today for another biweekly count of tree-building progress.

Tracing the lines of various Miller descendants has indeed inflated the count on my mother-in-law's tree, which contains Lydia's potential relatives, so far listed in floating branches. In the past two weeks, 255 more documented relatives have been added to that family tree. In total, the tree now contains 43,176 individuals.

In the meantime, since I took the opportunity while traveling to meet a distant cousin from my own side of the family, somehow I added one more name to that tree, too, so it's time to up that total to 41,939 relatives. Though my research generally follows a plan and schedule, sometimes life presents opportunities which simply can't be missed. I'm glad I did reach out and meet a cousin in this case.

This coming week marks the last full week of the month, and I'm hoping to be closing in on an answer concerning Lydia Miller's roots. Tomorrow, we'll start following a possible branch of this same Miller family who took a detour from the usual Ohio route to migrate to Indiana. 

Reaching Out

 

The connections we can gain from DNA testing gift us with the ability to reach out to strangers and meet them as family. This weekend, I had the opportunity to do just that. 

Most of us might have had the opportunity to meet first cousins once removed—those family connections some of us, before genealogy, might have called "second cousins." Some of us actually do know our second cousins. Beyond that, though, very few have a personal relationship with third cousins or beyond.

One member of our local genealogical society has found a way to break through that barrier—he simply reaches out to distant DNA matches, strikes up a conversation online, and eventually makes plans to meet up with them in person. We've been regaled with his stories over the past few years. Whether that has proven to inspire anyone else's action, I don't know. But when I had a chance to fly to a distant city this weekend, I couldn't bypass the opportunity: I asked a third cousin, once removed, if she would be interested in connecting in person.

On the surface, it took not much more than a twenty mile drive to a unique coffee shop halfway between our two locations—well, after a four hour flight cross country—but beneath that simplicity was months of email exchanges, comparing notes on cousins in common, placing mutual DNA matches in their correct position on the family tree we share. We are, after all, both researchers keen on uncovering our mystery ancestors.

When we realize the power of the tools we have at hand for building our family trees, it is sometimes lost on us that that same ability can draw us closer together, personally. In my case, this relative connects to my paternal grandfather's mystery Polish roots—the back story of the life of a relative I never met face to face, a man intent on keeping his ethnic origin a well-concealed secret.

This was a chance to share observations of what details we knew about family, discovering in conclusion that perhaps those ancestors simply had no desire to ever think again about the life they left behind in their choice to emigrate. Unlike, say, the Irish who could never forget the beautiful—though ravaged—homeland they left behind, the Polish in our roots left a life perhaps deemed not even deserving of remembrance. At least for our family's journey to a new world, that consideration was left by the wayside.

Granted, any such meet-up between two strangers, even those who share genetic connections, can turn up full of energy—or lacking any compulsion to continue the relationship. In our case, we could have talked for hours longer.

In retrospect, though, this was a conversation begun months ago, just a chance to move the interactions to a different venue. Thinking back to the role model of my fellow genealogy society member—someone we've dubbed everybody's cousin—that was not a bad example to follow. In this case, it was certainly worth the time to make this connection, and to hope for many more to come.  

When Favorite Names Keep Appearing

 

While seeking the right Miller ancestor for our Lydia has led us into a maze of possibilities, one DNA match who pointed us to an ancestor named Joseph Miller came with a bonus: a son whose name has appeared often in Miller households. That favorite name was Solomon. 

From the Miller families we've already examined, the given name Solomon has been part of the household of Jonathan Miller, as well as that of someone named Michael Miller. This Michael Miller happened to marry a woman whose surname—Binkley—had surfaced when I considered this Miller puzzle a year ago. I'm beginning to see the formation of a family cluster. 

Yet another Miller had the fingerprints of being part of a set of extended relatives in Perry County, Ohio. And here was this other family, also preferring to name their son by that same name, Solomon.

Seeing the selection of a specific name repeated over generations in households of the same surname, living in the same location may be telling us something. Or maybe that's just the kind of "something" that I've been hoping to listen to more closely.

This new DNA match, though, was connected to someone named Joseph Miller. There was one more problem with that: from all indications, his residence was not situated in the usual spot in Perry County. In fact, he was said to have been a long-time resident of Whitley County, Indiana.

Yet, following the trail of other researchers—especially those generous ones who share their path so that others can check out their conclusions—I discovered some helpful supporting narratives. While I have yet to find an online resource for the particular biographical sketch this researcher provided, reading the century-old narrative told me Joseph wasn't as far removed from the Perry County Millers as I might have expected.

It was worth checking out those details. First, of course, I tried replicating the search this researcher had shared on Ancestry.com, but without success. There was apparently more than one book called History of Whitley County, Indiana. I did, however find information on Joseph Miller in a similarly-named publication, embedded within a biography of someone named Benjamin Hively.

Gleaning the basics of Joseph Miller's family history may prove helpful. Using these publications as guide, we may learn more about a collateral line to the Jonathan Miller we've already been examining. If families of that era migrated in family clusters, that might indeed be helpful in sorting out the puzzle of this month's focus, my mother-in-law's second great-grandmother, Lydia Miller. Whoever her parents were, they surely migrated westward to Ohio in the company of many others—likely, members of an extended Miller family. We'll take a closer look at these details next week.

Yet Another Miller

 

Among the DNA matches isolated to point solely to a Miller ancestor connected to our Lydia in Perry County, Ohio, some linked to an ancestor named Joseph Miller. A cursory glance at this Joseph Miller showed a man born in 1801. Hmmm, I thought: a year of birth close enough to perhaps link him as a brother to the Jonathan Miller we've been watching.

So much for numbers. Even if this Joseph were born in Somerset County, Pennsylvania, as we had suspected for Jonathan, he certainly didn't die in Ohio. A link in the DNA match's tree led to a Find A Grave Memorial for a man who died in Fulton County, Indiana. Not the same story as what we've seen for Lydia or Jonathan.

One tiny detail in a life story doesn't provide the full picture, of course. As it turns out, this Joseph may well have made a stop in Ohio on his way to Indiana, after all. Joseph Miller apparently married his wife, Barbara Overmyer, in none other than Perry County. Surprisingly, the entry for their wedding is displayed on the same page as that for Jonathan Miller and Catharine Dupler, occurring just one month before the other Miller ceremony, on March 18, 1824.

That was enough to beguile me into following more of Joseph Miller's story. After all, there was a promising Joseph Miller listed among those thirty five Miller heads of household listed in Perry County in the 1830 census. Perhaps this was the one.

Many Millers

 

Continuing the quest for a possible Miller father for our Lydia, we have many Millers from which to choose. And I don't mean a choice from among the many Millers resident in the state of Ohio—although the Miller surname does happen to be one of the top three surnames in that state. Back in 1830, the first census taken after Lydia was born, there were at least thirty five heads of household in Perry County, Ohio, claiming that surname.

Although it was possible that Lydia's immediate family might not have stayed in Perry County—after all, as we've already seen, some Millers came from Somerset County, Pennsylvania, and could just have kept on traveling—I'm hoping that gleaning information from this one snapshot of 1830 might give a chance at discovering members of Lydia's immediate Miller family.

In tandem with a search through the Perry County Millers of 1830, I am reviewing the rest of the DNA matches tying my husband to candidates with Miller roots. To continue this search in a way that would yield meaningful results for our search for Lydia's parents, we need to remember some details:

• The Miller DNA match must represent a line which is not intertwined with the many other surnames in Perry County which have, over the centuries, intermarried with my mother-in-law's family.
• The potential match would need to be someone who could be identified, placed within the context of a family tree, and verified by documentation—thus, no enigmatic labels replacing match names.
• The tree needs to convey a reasonable story: no wild migrations over hundreds of miles of rough terrain in a matter of days; no births to teenaged couples barely old enough to parent children; no unexplained surname changes or other fingerprints of confused identities.

I have already found six DNA matches at Ancestry who all descend from Jonathan Miller and his wife, Catharine Dupler. Since then, I've located almost as many more Miller matches satisfying my prerequisites, but who descend from a different Miller ancestor. The challenge now is to build out trees for those matches, confirm the assertions, and watch to see where the Miller nexus might occur between our Lydia and the DNA match's ancestor.

This, as you can imagine, will be a time-consuming process.... 

Six Miller Descendants

 

Six DNA tests reveal a distant cousin with a connection to a Miller ancestor from Perry County, Ohio. Each of those Miller connections shares a slight match with my husband's DNA test at Ancestry.com. But rather than leading back to Lydia Miller, my husband's direct line ancestor, each one of these matches points in a different direction: to someone named Jonathan Miller.

This Jonathan Miller, said to have been born in 1802 in Somerset County, Pennsylvania, spent most of his adult life in a different Somerset: in Perry County, Ohio. There, in 1824, he married Catharine Dupler, and began raising his family.

It was not lost on me last year as I explored possible family members related to Lydia Miller that Jonathan Miller was a close neighbor to Lydia and her first husband, William Gordon. Now, discovering that six direct line descendants of Jonathan Miller are DNA matches to my husband, a descendant of Lydia Miller, seems to confirm my hunch that those two ancestors must have been closely related. I just can't tell yet how close that relationship was.

Five of those six DNA matches claim Jonathan Miller as their fourth great-grandfather. The additional match is one generation closer, showing Jonathan as a third great-grandfather. None of the matches shares more than twelve centiMorgans of genetic material with my husband—a tiny one-segment match, indeed. 

The six matches descend from three of Jonathan's daughters. Two descend from eldest daughter Belinda Miller, two from Barbara Miller, and two from Catherine Miller.

There are three more DNA matches connected to Jonathan Miller for which I am still building out their line of descent. I suspect there will be more yet to find, as I build out Jonathan Miller's tree over multiple generations.

The obvious next question is: how is our Lydia related to Jonathan Miller? There is obviously some sort of family connection. Since Jonathan was said to have been born in 1802, and Lydia in 1820, my guess would be that the two were siblings. Despite the wide spread between those years of birth, it is not uncommon to see siblings in a large family with such a disparity in ages.

The next task, then, is to discover what can be found to confirm the identity of Jonathan's father.

Avoiding "Endogamy Lite"

 

If there is any difficulty in comparing DNA matches from my mother-in-law's family, it is that the folks claiming a heritage in Perry County, Ohio, can often be related to each other in several ways. Far more closely connected than one would expect from pedigree collapse, they are not exactly poster children for endogamy, either. That's why I like to call this scenario a case of "endogamy lite"—only about half the calories, er, connections you'd expect in any endogamous population. And in this month's research case, I need to avoid those "endogamy lite" relationships like the plague.

The beauty of these tiny DNA matches I've recently discovered is that they are isolated to only one surname matching my mother-in-law's inter-related family lines. That name is Miller. With many of our other Perry County DNA matches, a closer look almost always reveals connections to several shared surnames, making it difficult for me to answer my research question for this month concerning Lydia Miller's roots. Those multiple surnames have been intertwined into this family for generations—but not, thankfully, in the case of these newly-discovered Miller DNA matches.

This opportunity gives me a chance to view Miller connections, isolated from the other intermarried lines. So far, I've found six such matches, and I'm working on confirming three more. Unfortunately, since these are all matches found on Ancestry.com, I have no way to extract the raw data and paint the chromosomes, unless I encounter six very willing strangers who are game to allow me to deeply explore their test results—something I'm not even going to attempt.

According to one Miller collaborator I've been working with—someone, by the way, who is related to my husband through multiple family lines, thanks to "endogamy lite"—there are several more Miller DNA connections to be found on the other testing services. Another task for me to do will be to explore what this collaborator has found at those other sites.

I suspect, however, that my husband's test yields more Miller connections than does my collaborator's test. Using Ancestry.com's ProTools, I checked for shared matches between the six Miller tests I've identified and my collaborator's test. There are no matches in common. Granted, this collaborator could have inherited totally different strands of Lydia's DNA than my husband has, yet another reason to continue comparing notes.

Looking at the trees of these six Miller matches found so far is informative. We'll explore a bit more of those connections next week.

Discerning the Distance

 

There's already been a lot of exploration done on the question of Lydia Miller's parents. Just in this month, I've outlined the eight children of her second marriage to Benedict Palmer and sketched out each child's line of descent down to the current generation. Of those many descendants from that second marriage, I've yet to find any DNA matches linked to my husband's own test.

While I realize the connection would have been distant—Lydia would be my husband's third great-grandmother—it is not beyond reach. Actually, any two resultant fourth cousins could share up to 139 centiMorgans, but they could also share absolutely nothing. With the children of Lydia's second marriage being half-siblings to my mother-in-law's great-grandfather Adam Gordon, Lydia's firstborn son from her first marriage, any potential DNA matches would share even less than that amount.

There are, however, some other surprising DNA matches showing up in our results. Very small connections, hovering around ten centiMorgans, belong to people whose pedigree chart points straight back to a Miller ancestor.

While they do reach back to a Miller connection, it is unclear just how their ancestor—Jonathan Miller of Perry County, Ohio—was related to Lydia herself. One collaborator I'm working with has hypothesized that Jonathan was actually Lydia's father. Right now, I'm tending to lean towards a scenario where Lydia may have been Jonathan's much younger sister.

To test out those hypotheses may mean employing some specialized DNA tools. "What Are The Odds" (WATO) comes to mind here. Before I make that jump, though, I'll be working on a few more Miller DNA matches, as there are actually two different Miller lines showing up in my husband's matches. But the bottom line is that, for a DNA match as small as some of these connections, there may be no way to pinpoint a relationship. Just looking at, say, a ten centiMorgan match could mean seeing a third cousin or a fourth or fifth cousin—or beyond. There is no way to differentiate.

Still, to find any DNA match in our list leading back to Jonathan Miller is encouraging. In tandem, maybe they can both point us to the identity of Lydia's parents, and his, too.