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.

About Catharine

 

Some family stories progress predictably. From the earliest stage of boy-meets-girl to marriage, then children, then grandchildren and beyond, the history plays out in a logical manner. The family, perhaps, has lived in the same town for generations. No one died prematurely. Or changed their name without confirming it legally. The play-by-play details have been laid out publicly for all to see in retrospect, the kind of predictability appreciated by genealogists.

George and Catharine Miller were not, apparently, such a couple. At first, I was elated to discover a biographical sketch about their son Solomon which seemed to provide key details about the family's roots. Once I began reconstructing the story via documentation, though, the path to their past became a bit bumpier.

As I had mentioned yesterday, I saw that the narrative in the 1907 publication, History of Whitley County, Indiana provided three particular guiding details about Solomon and his parents:

• 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. 

My first clue about reliability, in tracing those details, was when I tried to follow Solomon's mother, Catharine, in records. While the published narratives mentioned that Solomon's move west was in a group of travelers including his mother, that could only be true if she had accompanied them for only a short while. In today's world, that sort of arrangement might be feasible, but when I checked the 1850 census for Catharine's name, it led me to a different indicator.

There, as predicted, in 1850 in Whitley County, Indiana, was Solomon and his family: his wife Melinda and six children, five of them born in Indiana. The one glaring omission from that growing family was the widowed mother who supposedly had made the journey westward with Solomon.

Where was Catharine? Back home in Perry County, Ohio.

Catharine's 1850 census entry showed her in a small household including two other people: seventy seven year old Catharine Humberger, and a six year old girl named Ann Boyer. Though I have yet to figure out how young Ann Boyer might have been related to the two women, we already know that Catharine Miller's maiden name was Humberger, thus leading to the conclusion that after Solomon's departure, Catharine was still living in Perry County with her own mother. Plus, in this census, Catharine was living in Thorn Township, where we had seen her before, after the 1822 death of her husband George Miller.

In fact, in Catharine Miller's appearance in the 1830 census, my hopes had been lifted by the fact that her household included two boys and a girl between the ages of ten and fifteen. The Miller child we've been pursuing this month, my mother-in-law's brick wall ancestor Lydia Miller, born in 1820, would have fit perfectly in that category. After all, the Whitley County narrative mentioned that Solomon was one of ten children. But now I'm not so sure that biographical detail was correct, either.

The reason for my doubt? Another discovery about this Catharine and who those other children in her household might have been.

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.

Solomon's Timeline

 

In pursuing Solomon Miller's life story as genealogists do—starting from the end, then moving toward the beginning—it might not have become immediately obvious that this man would fit into our Perry County, Ohio, Miller network. Perhaps if we had the luxury of perusing any saved letters from Solomon, sent home to family left behind as he moved to Whitley County, Indiana, we might have realized we were on the right track. At first glance, however, the Ohio connection for this Indiana settler was not evident.

In such a case, it might be helpful to lay out a timeline, from start to finish, concerning Solomon's life story. As it turns out, he did, after all, make a significant appearance in the very spot in Ohio—Perry County—which supports the connection we've been keen to discover.

The information came first from two small biographies published about the history of Whitley County, Indiana, where Solomon, son of Pennsylvanians, had settled and raised his family. Equipped with those brief narratives, it was easier to follow the trail and locate supporting documentation.

Here's a brief outline, gleaned from that material, concerning what we can find so far.

Before 1822: Solomon's parents, George Miller and Catherine Humbarger, arrive in Perry County, Ohio, from an unidentified location in Pennsylvania.

In 1822:

• George Miller dies in Perry County about April
• Solomon's future wife Malinda (Anspach?) is born June 19
• Solomon Miller is born on July 22

Skipping to the 1840s:

• June 9, 1841, Solomon marries Malinda in Perry County
• In 1842, the couple moves to Thorn Creek in Whitley County, Indiana
• Solomon's widowed mother Catherine moves with them
• A daughter named Lucinda, born in Ohio, moves with them
• Malinda's parents David and Sarah "Auspaugh" move with them

Indeed, a quick look at all the Millers in the 1840 census in Perry County revealed one household headed by a woman listed as "Katharine" Miller. Included in that household were two young men between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, one woman in her twenties, plus another woman in her forties, likely the widowed Catharine, herself. An encouraging sign, in examining the other surnames listed on that page of the 1840 census, was to see the name John Humbarger listed—possibly a close relative to the widow.

Though the biographical sketches list Solomon's wife's maiden name as Auspaugh, looking back to the handwritten marriage record in Perry County, it appears her name was rendered in one place as Anspaugh. We'll look further into Malinda's origin, as well, before the month is out. 

By the time of the 1850 census, Solomon and Malinda claimed six young ones living in their new household in Indiana. All told, the couple eventually boasted seventeen children, of which at least nine married and raised families of their own, giving us plenty of opportunities to find possible DNA matches to connect us to our goal, finding brick wall ancestor Lydia Miller's roots.

We haven't yet, however, sealed the deal on whether each Perry County Miller was connected to each other—or how. A look further back in time, however, may help provide some supporting documentation. We need to do a bit more exploration through local records.

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. 

Remembering

 

Today, folks in the United States observe the national holiday known as Memorial Day. Rooted in the observance once followed in the aftermath of the American Civil War as Decoration Day, when people would visit cemeteries and mark gravesites with flags and flowers, the purpose has been to honor military personnel who died in the line of duty.

Remembering those who have passed, whether in service to their country or to their own family and community, holds a special place for historians and especially genealogists. I can't, however, think of the task of remembering without having another memory come to mind, a comment I hear far too often.

That comment, coming from my relatives across the decades, has been a regret that they never thought to ask questions of their elders until it became too late. Questions which—whether simple or detailed, piercing or generic—could only be answered by the living, not those who have gone on before.

This holiday weekend, as I spend time with extended family which includes two generations younger than I am, I wonder how many of them will experience that same pang of regret in twenty or thirty years. What questions will they wish they had asked their grandparents? More to the point, what is it about all of us that we don't think to ask those questions until it is too late to receive the answer from those who matter the most?

I think, in particular, about one woman in my mother-in-law's line named Lydia Miller. Married not once but twice, matriarch to two family lines: what was her story? Is there anyone left to know the explanation of what became of her memory or even where she came from, back in the 1820s?

I think, also, of my own mother's ancestors. Some of them experienced big changes in the 1820s. The difference was that one of those relatives, back then, thought to share that family's story, which was heard, then repeated by someone in the next generation, who then shared it with her grandchildren, who then repeated it to their children. Some of that same story lives today because someone thought to tell it—and someone else thought to preserve it and deliver it to someone else who would pass it along.

Remembering is important. But we also need to realize that memories are a vapor which can vanish in a moment, if we don't pick up the refrain and sing it again through the ages, generation by generation. 

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. 

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.... 

Supposed Siblings and Their Possible Patriarch

 

I confess: I cheated. This wearying search for possible siblings and parents of my mother-in-law's brick wall ancestor Lydia Miller has nigh worn me out. So when I spotted an Ancestry hint that perhaps Lydia's possible sibling Jonathan Miller was son of a man named Henry Miller, I decided to check it out. 

Since Jonathan was said to have been born in Pennsylvania—at least, according to his Find-A-Grave entry—it made sense to look for such a father both in Jonathan's home in Perry County, Ohio, and for his supposed home town back in Pennsylvania.

Checking the 1830 census in Perry County, Ohio, however, led me nowhere. That was the first census in which Jonathan had appeared in Ohio after his 1824 marriage to Catharine Dupler, but the significant number of Miller residents in 1830 in Perry County told me the search might be challenging. Besides, the lone Henry Miller in Perry County that year, himself a man under forty, turned out to be far too young to have been father of Jonathan, himself born in 1802.

The suggestion at Ancestry, however, was to check out a Henry Miller still residing in Pennsylvania. While on its surface, a card transcribed from Mennonite Church records, offered up as documentation of Henry Miller by Ancestry hints, seemed plausible as father of Jonathan—and thus, possibly, of our brick wall ancestry Lydia Miller.

Plausible, that is, until a closer look revealed that that Henry Miller couldn't possibly have been father of Lydia. If Lydia's own burial record contained the correct age, her date of birth would have been in 1820. Pennsylvania Henry, according to the card gleaned from Mennonite records, had died by 1812. Indeed, one Henry Miller, dying intestate in Somerset County, Pennsylvania, became subject of a court appointment of administrators late in that same year.

While this Henry might well have been father of Jonathan Miller, he certainly couldn't have filled those same shoes for Lydia. It's back to the drawing board for another hypothesis on just who Lydia's father might have been.

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.

Revisiting the Miller To-Do List

 

It's always a good idea to leave yourself notes about where a research task left off. Last year, I closed off my May research project—looking for the same Lydia Miller we're working on this month—with several undone items remaining on my to-do list. It's time to reopen that file and get back on track while there's still time this month to make some progress.

I had two separate files left with unfinished business. One came from a ProTools Network I had opened up on Miller neighbors mentioned in various research collections. The other came from DNA matches harvested from my husband's results which showed a connection to Millers who might possibly be related to Lydia.

The first to-do list, the names in the Miller network I had set up last year, contained three possible ancestors for Lydia. The first name, Jacob Miller, represented a possible ancestor according to Ancestry.com's ThruLines tool. With no dates suggested for this Jacob Miller, I admit it was a relief to see that the ThruLines list eventually dropped that name from the list of my husband's possible ancestors.

The second and third names in that Miller network are still ones to follow this month. One was Michael Miller, a man who died in Perry County, Ohio—home of my mother-in-law's roots—in 1896. The other candidate was Jonathan Miller, born in 1802 in Somerset, Pennsylvania, and dying in Somerset, Ohio—in that same Perry County—in 1868.

I had already begun tracing each of those two men's lines of descent last year, and I'll continue the process behind the scenes this month. Don't think that's simply because I like the dull dry routine of building family trees for strangers; it appears there may be a second type of connection which will provide more guidance in this endeavor.

That other connection comes from DNA testing. As it turns out, the connection with one of those three people mentioned earlier—Jonathan Miller, Lydia and William Gordon's neighbor—may also be borne out by DNA matches. At this point, I'm hypothesizing that Jonathan Miller and Lydia Miller may have been siblings; a second possibility might have been cousins. Either way, though, that would make a very distant relationship between any two matches related now to that family—a connection so distant that some such cousins might not show up in DNA matches at all.

The fact that there are a few DNA matches showing this promising sign helps me narrow that search to specific Miller lines as I map out the family connections. Rather than complete a full complement of all lines of descent from Jonathan Miller's family, for instance, I'll be looking at the connections with specific DNA matches who already show up in my husband's results. Hopefully, that will streamline the process enough to allow us to come to a conclusion by the end of this month. It may be possible to figure out mystery ancestor Lydia Miller's roots, after all.

Taking a Different Perspective

Staring down a longstanding research roadblock, somehow hoping this time it will reveal the answers it kept secret last time, surely doesn't work. Sometimes, the problem requires looking at it from a different perspective. Granted, I'm still stuck on Lydia Miller, my mother-in-law's second great-grandmother, despite looking at her from both the perspective of her second marriage and the early years of her first marriage.

There is, however, a different approach yet to take. That attempt at problem solving I had begun last May, when mulling over the neighborly connection between another Miller family and the young family of Lydia and her first husband William Gordon.

Knowing that the Gordons had a neighbor named Jonathan Miller, last year I had used the Ancestry.com ProTools to form a "network" to examine what could be found about Jonathan Miller and his family. That was when I ran into the additional surnames I mentioned yesterday, of the Dupler marriages and the Anspach line.

Today was the time to review those notes—not only that, but to pull up what I had entered in the floating branch in my tree to add those mystery Millers as a potential connection to Lydia's own roots. From that point, I examined DNA matches among my husband's results who had any connection to the lines including those additional surnames, Dupler and Anspach.

While I am a long way from confirming any possible Miller matches, I am mapping out those several DNA matches' lines of descent from their founding Miller ancestors. Granted, each of those matches shares a tiny percentage of DNA with my husband—wobbling on unreliable, in the estimation of some experts—but I'm tracing them, just in case something does reveal itself in the examination. We'll take a closer look at the proposed connections tomorrow. 

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.