What if it was All for This?

 

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

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

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

...but then, DNA...

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

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

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

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

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

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

While Hot on the Trail

 

It took me a few days to realize that, while hot on the trail of the unnamed daughters of William Ijams, I forgot one significant detail. 

Sure, I've found some indicators to answer my question about the unnamed daughters in William Ijams' 1816 will. For that, I am thankful. It always irks me when I can't complete a research task. And now, I have material to help push me along into another generation of his descendants—most especially that matriline for which I have no clue how to connect with some exact mtDNA matches.

But after twelve years of (mostly) daily posts to A Family Tapestry—with stories of ancestors, in-laws, and even "outlaws"—somehow I forgot that last Monday marked my blogiversary. See how desperate I was to find the answer to my research question?

From that first post on May 8, 2011, when I began sharing stories, we've covered a lot of family history. There have been 4,326 posts. Over a million page views. And 15,460 comments. There have been wonderful collaborations with some readers who have sent helpful information my way, or mentioned that they were working on the same family lines. It's all been a wonderful and worthwhile endeavor.

While things have changed, over the years, both for the world of genealogical research and for me personally, there is still much to be discovered on all the wonderful people who have gone before us—the people we call our ancestors. While still in hot pursuit of their stories, may they help teach us and give us a wider perspective on our own life and times, as well.  

 

Still Here

 

It's been ten years. Exactly.

Like taking a walk—a very long walk—it's been a matter of putting one foot in front of another and taking the next step.

That walk started on May 8, 2011. And here we are today: 3,650 steps later. It's been a long walk.

Along the way, the journey has provided me the means to document and refine the details on the stories of thousands of relatives and their ancestors. The process has shown me how intertwined our lives turn out to be, how networked we all are, how woven together our mutual existence. Best of all, I've learned how things really were: the ancestors who wanted their stories hidden, as much as those who wished their story were told.

In time, I've come to realize not only how thrilled I was to discover the answers to questions I've always had—remember, I was born wanting to know more about my family—but how even the process of making these discoveries required a family tree of friends, associates, and neighbors. Even the process of genealogy has its own "F.A.N. Club." Those are the people who provide the incentive to keep going, the inspiration to try harder, and the empathy to enable others to endure the pain points in the process. Together, we make a team.

If you're still here, I will be, too. There's so much work yet to do. Maybe for others it can be different, but when I overhear people mention they have "finished" their family tree, I already know I never will. Here's to the next post. The next story. The next year. Maybe even the next decade...

Yes. Yes, it Has.

That is the answer, of course. The question would be: "Has it really been nine years?"

Throw in a few leap years—three, to be exact—and tack on today's entry as the start of a new cycle, and that makes 3,289 daily posts since A Family Tapestry launched on Mother's Day, May 8, 2011.

I blame my mother. She just had too many stories of family to not pass them along. And I'm afraid I got her writer's gene, too—that compelling urge to write, no matter whether anyone else would have been interested. It's a way of creating history in its own right—leaving some breadcrumbs scattered along the trail with the hopes that, eventually, some hungry someone would come along and notice.

Encouragingly, people have come along to take a look—get in touch, even. Those of us who really want to know about our family history have a way of finding each other, even if it is only virtual and transient. The ability to reach out and touch someone is infinitely easier, now that we have the Internet to deliver our messages—and Google to sort them all out.

Whether there will be another nine years in this blogger's future, I can't guarantee, though I am fairly certain that the research will always continue. There is something so fascinating about learning other people's stories. Maybe it's an offshoot of learning how to empathize. "Junkman Froggett" taught me that lesson, only a few days ago.

Whether I manage to discover how to tie up the loose threads in my current research dilemma—whether the Rileys I found in Indiana are the same as the Rileys I discovered, back in their old home in Tennessee—I can't yet be sure. That's one hazard of blogging under the alternate persona of the Genealogical Guinea Pig. Taking one day to celebrate one's existence, plus a weekend to recuperate, may, or may not, enable me to come up with the answer by next Monday.

Above: Every time I review blog posts from that initial year of writing, the first item I see is the post containing this painting, a 1898 oil on canvas by German artist Lesser Ury called "Woman at Writing Desk." It struck me that, when I am seated, I have always sat exactly in that fashion—perched at the very edge of the chair, focused on work. Even though I seldom even sit when working now—I use a standing desk—the place where I work is situated much like the room portrayed in this picture: the piano behind me, and the screened-in double doors leading to our front deck wide open to let in the light. Perhaps what draws us to others' work contains a factor of what we appreciate the most, ourselves.

Paper Chase

It hasn’t been hard for me to delve into old records. Even before I did genealogy in earnest, I loved walking through old church cemeteries. One of my favorite day trips, when I lived on Long Island, was to drive to Sag Harbor and wander through their graveyards. I’d search for the oldest headstone. Sometimes, I’d spy the epitath of a Portuguese sailor born in the 1600s.

Getting started researching your family history requires a little record-keeping, too. And a little sleuthing. But you don’t necessarily need to get as hands-on as a walk through the cemetery.

Looking into old records, however, does bring you into another world. Some people are comfortable with that; others can’t shake themselves of the air of morbidity it entails.

Looking at your family tree is like taking a trip through history—only going backwards. You start with what you know: you, and your parents. You already know your own name, and unless you were legally adopted, you know the name of at least one parent, if not both.

While it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to point this out to you, that slip of paper—your official birth record—serves as your first document to identify which parents you are linked with. Saving that, and a long line of other such documents, may one day verify your status as a “First Family” of the state where your family settled. (I’ll post more about that another day.)

Armed with your parents’ names and their dates of birth, the quest is on to find their birth certificates to document their parents’ names. The search may be as easy as a phone call to mom or dad. Or contact with the office of Vital Records or the Health Department that keeps such documents in the state where your parents were born. Names there will link you with the next generation—your grandparents.

This is where the search turns morbid. Like the walk through the cemetery I mentioned above, another place to learn about your ancestors’ significant identifying dates is in death records. Keep in mind you may find some discrepancies in information—official people complete the birth certificate during a happy time, but gather the information to fill in the blanks on death certificates from people who are under a great deal of stress. Memories sometimes fail under such circumstances, so it is always wise to verify those records with a second document.

A less official corollary to the death certificate is the obituary. As I mentioned in an earlier post, there are a few online resources to access newspaper archives with this information.

Once you have worked your way backwards enough in time to cross the access barrier of 1930 (soon to be 1940), you have bridged the screen set up by census regulations to protect the privacy of those who are still living. You can now begin working with census records.

If you’ve worked your daisy-chain of names diligently through the generations (or just asked your living relatives), you should have the names of family members alive in 1930 and can figure out their approximate ages. Having an idea of what state they might have lived in helps, too. If you are serious about your search and can invest in any of the current genealogy subscription websites that offer digitalized, searchable census records, it will not take long to continue the trail backwards, taking ten years at a leap!

If you are not prepared to spring for the approximately $20 per month cost of such sites, you can still continue your research. You can pursue your roots the way I did pre-PC: many public libraries have a lending service in which you can order specific microfilm copies of the census, and search by hand, cranking it out on a reader, county by county and district by district.

But wait! You may be in luck! Many of those same libraries also have computer subscriptions for their patrons, and you may be able to use those thoroughly-modern services after all.

And if not, you still have options, one of which is the network of Family History Centers. Though originated, staffed and maintained by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, most of the Centers designate a time when their genealogy holdings may be accessed by the general public, regardless of church affiliation. If there is no Family History Center near you, their website allows you to tap into not only census records online but a host of other documents as well.

These documents, assembled, provide a rough sketch of your family history—a history you are just beginning to glimpse, piece by piece, as you step backward in time.  

Remembering Is Honoring

There is an Old Testament command that warns, “Honor your father and your mother.” As I grew up, I heard that a lot. Perhaps that was a commentary on how poorly I heeded wise advice!

The fact that, millennia later, a New Testament apostle was repeating the same injunctive gives me the idea that my failures put me in the company of many.

That is not a dreary rule, though, but as Paul writes, the first commandment with a promise. That promise is for long life—that things “may go well with you.”

Most everyone wants a life where things go right instead of going all wrong. But how do you honor your parents?

When I was a teenager hearing those words, I thought about that a lot. I always thought of honoring as something you do to celebrate a person: throw a party—for their anniversary, or job promotion, or even a milestone birthday—or make great speeches about how wonderful the person is.

In that stage of my life, those options were not even possibilities. When I’d ask, my mother couldn’t even remember her wedding anniversary. My father was self-employed, so no possibility for a promotion! Neither one of my parents enjoyed celebrating getting older. And I didn’t have any platform to jump up on and shout out rousing phrases about their greatness.

So I never could figure out what “honoring” meant.

Until now.

Now, I think I know.

I got my first clue from the last verse in the Old Testament, about a prophet whose main job when he gets on the scene will be to turn “the hearts of the children to their fathers.”

I found my first example in a story about ancient Israel on the brink of a devastating war, when God told the prophet Jeremiah to invite a certain family over for a drink. The family came, alright, but told their host they couldn’t, under any circumstances, indulge. Why? Because their “father”—actually, a generations-removed ancestor—had left them instructions on how to live a successful life, which they had followed to the letter for centuries.

That’s honoring.

Do we remember what our parents have told us? Most teenagers can’t remember five minutes after they’ve been told. On the other hand, many parents haven’t shared substantial instructions on life with their children. What’s there to remember?

Yet, regardless of whether our parents were Fortune 500 company CEOs or gutter drunks in the Bowery, our responsibility is to honor.

We honor by remembering.

May is for Memories

Springtime: a time for growth, fresh ideas and projects. Springtime in the air energizes and encourages. It makes us look forward to the new.

The May calendar doesn’t bear that out, though. Mother’s Day, a time designated to honor each one’s mother, leaves many remembering a woman long gone. Following on the heels of that is our country’s designation of Peace Officers Memorial Day, and National Police Week—a time to remember those whose service heroically ended in the ultimate sacrifice. And the month ends in our Memorial Day weekend, once again commemorating the selfless service of others, this time to country.

Ironically, two of these three designated dates got their impetus from the aftermath of the Civil War, a struggle none of us here today ever lived through.

Our commemorations serve to recall people whose sacrifices told the story of what was important to them.

In addition to the ceremonies we publicly participate in, we can remember those in our own heritage who have served in these capacities, be they Civil War soldiers, veterans of more recent conflicts, law enforcement officers, or each one of our mothers, grandmothers, and family pioneer women.

There are so many tools to help find records of relatives’ service. A basic, free readout of many online sources for this is called Cyndi’s List. There are several other online lists for veterans of war. Another database accesses information on slain law enforcement officers from 1791 to the present, though there are many other sites, often listed by state, that are on the internet.

Of course, that’s for names that your family already knows. If you are just starting your research, keep these links handy. Chipping away at that mysterious unknown chunk of your family history may soon reveal stories you hadn’t heard before. Those are stories that need to take their place in your family’s May remembrances, too.

Fame, Fortune and Relatives

Ever wonder if you are related to someone famous? That’s a reason for starting family research that I hadn’t mentioned the other day. Mostly, the chances are slim, but it’s still fun to check it out.

My mother’s paternal grandmother was a Boothe. Actually, the way spelling was handled in those days, her surname was often spelled Booth. She’s the one in the photo on Tuesday’s post. I don’t know much about her, but one thing I do know: someone in the Booth family was quite a story teller.

Every since my childhood, I remember my grandfather telling us younger family members that he was related to John Wilkes Booth. Considering this southern gent was telling that to a bunch of “Yankees,” we’d gasp in horror. And squeal, of course, because that’s what young girls do.

A bit of age put some perspective on that tall tale, and I set it aside.

Remember those online genealogy forums I told you about? One day I was poking around online, seeing what I could find about my family, and can you believe I ran into someone else posting that same story? I did some quick calculating based on what I knew about the person on that forum, and figured he was a distant cousin from the Texas branch of our family.

I must have burned the phone lines up, sending out my forum post so fast. And the return volley back at me qualified as a bona fide splat. Keep in mind, with the forum, everyone else saw my post, too. And you know what? A whole bunch of people grew up hearing that same story, too.

What a weird way to meet a bunch of distant cousins!

I still haven’t found any missing link to connect my Boothe family with the real John Wilkes Booth, though someone in my family back then christened his son as namesake of the infamous actor.

That doesn’t mean you should always discard family rumors. Word of mouth was what connected me online with a distant cousin on my father’s side. My older brother happens to be an actor—something any distant relative is sure to take note of. While I was researching a different distant surname, someone online contacted me to try and figure out if our lines were for the same family. He brought up that very question—if I were related to this actor. We’ve since shared quite a bit of data from our research, which has helped both of us.

That scenario can play itself out in the opposite direction, too. I was in Chicago, visiting my husband’s family, kibitzing with a genealogy-prone cousin about the proverbial “brick wall” ancestor that had stopped our research cold in its tracks. Out of the blue, this cousin blurted out that that ancestor was related to a nationally-known sportscaster. OK, the last name matched, but it’s a common surname—and, besides, what are the chances? But he was pretty sure of his call.

I did some networking online with my trusty genealogy forum pals and, out of the blue, ended up getting an email from this very same celeb. Yes, it is true, we are related—and he sent me some wonderful snippets of family history to help push beyond that mystery brick wall that had stopped our research.

So, whether you are related to someone famous or not, pay attention to those stories. Whether they tell a tall tale or the truth, they may just help connect you with someone in your extended family.

Why Would Someone Want to Do All That?

When we think of hobbies, we think of fun things to do with free time. Genealogy can be a lot of work, granted. But for some strange reason, that doesn’t disqualify it from having a hearty following of enthusiasts.

So who would want to pursue their family history? Many people with many reasons.

Of course, I’ve already mentioned the group I’m in: people who just always have wanted to know. They can’t explain it: it was love at first sight.

New moms and dads form another group. There is just something about thinking of that babe-to-come that turns minds and hearts back to parents, grandparents, and those mysterious others in a long line of those who have gone before. It’s ironic, but the new sparks an interest in the old.

Which points to a corollary of that: grandparents. Something about being a newly-minted grandparent acts like the Blarney Stone of the gift of genealogical gab. Grandparents want to tell their story, and to have it passed down to future generations. They want those precious babies to know about their forebears!

A sadder impetus to research happens to reveal itself in the aftermath of losing a loved one. I’ve had friends and relatives ask me questions about family research a few weeks after a funeral—usually when they start that tedious process of sifting through all the belongings of the dear departed one. Old photos, letters, and diaries prompt memories—and questions. Those left behind are left wondering sometimes—I know my dad’s family was, with the mysteries we are still trying to uncover. It’s always better to ask all those questions before losing our precious links to family heritage, but sometimes it is just not possible.

Another prompt to starting research comes from a more unexpected route: a school assignment in grade school or even high school. That’s what started a cousin of mine down the path of asking questions of older relatives. Some of her teenage discoveries were the only link I had to the mysteries of our family’s arrival as immigrants in 1880s America. While younger students aren’t necessarily equipped with the persistence and patience required of serious researchers, their initial discoveries may whet their appetite for revisiting the hobby in later years. In the meantime, personal family history is a great lens through which to gain perspective on major events in world and national history.

There are probably as many stories of “why I got started” as there are family researchers. But they all go back to that initial kernel: the need—the desire—to know where we came from.

A Brief Historical Tour – How Things Got Started

I’ve toyed with family research for decades, but keeping a collection of hand-scribbled notes of names and vague recollections only works for so long. Then the exponential thing kicks in and you get buried in a snowstorm of bits of paper. I didn’t really kick off my search until I applied some computer power.

I still have some of those papers, but they are now flurry-free, safely boxed up, and will probably never again see the light of day. Take it from me: the most essential thing to do, as soon as possible, is find a way to organize your discoveries that bypasses pen and paper.

My first purchase was a genealogy database program. I chose FamilyTreeMaker. Its developer, Banner Blue, launched the product in 1989. I bought the product only a few years later, but by then, it was up to version 4.40 for Windows 95. Don’t laugh—I still use it. Not that I thoroughly researched all my options and chose wisely. I just found it at Costco, the price was right, and I was ready to buy.

I can’t vouch for FamilyTreeMaker today. I’m really happy with my program, but since then, the Banner Blue Software division was bought out by Broderbund, which was purchased by The Learning Company. And that’s only the ancient history of it all. I have no idea what the program is like after all those changes. All I know is that you really should have some digital way to organize all the stuff you’ll discover when you start searching out your own family history.

At that same time, I got my e-mail and online access through the old Prodigy service. One serendipitous discovery was that Prodigy hosted forums on all sorts of subjects, and several of them were genealogy-related. That’s where I first learned about the benefits of sharing the details of my search. I got such a kick out of meeting a 9th cousin online, from my mother’s Broyles line, through the Prodigy forums. I met numerous fellow enthusiasts who were generous with their time and happy to help a newbie like me. Of course, the inevitable happened, and Prodigy was bought out by a series of other businesses and was never the same. Who knows—they may still be hosting those wonderful forums, but I’m no longer there to see it.

Thankfully, I somehow stumbled upon a free internet-based genealogy resource called RootsWeb. Founded in the mid 1990s by two Ph.D. level researchers, Brian Leverich and Karen Isaacson, RootsWeb called a hideout near the pinnacle of the Grapevine north of Los Angeles home for several years until Ancestry.com graciously assumed the role of host of this nonprofit entity.

RootsWeb was a treasure trove—everybody sharing, coaching, encouraging, and sometimes just plain old gabbing about what we all loved to do best: genealogy. It was a classroom housed in a playground. I still love to connect with people there. My goal this summer is to upload my files to their free WorldConnect project and give back with some sharing of my own.

There are loads more resources, of course, but for today, I promised a short tour of what happened when I first started family tree research. The rest is yet to come.

Looking at my Strands

Because my father’s family had a story that I still haven’t entirely unraveled, some of my earlier research centered on my mother’s family. That was a safe bet. My mother’s father, as far as she knew, had a line that had been in the New World since the 1600s. (I was eventually able to bear her out on this.) She knew, thankfully, her paternal grandmother’s maiden name, so that gave me a start on pushing back the cover on another generation. My mother’s maternal line had a well-documented history in the state of Florida, and they were fiercely proud of their surname. Within this family grouping I now had a cluster of names: Davis, Boothe, McClellan, Broyles.

After my research hiatus during the starving-student years of college and post-college unemployment, I added some new family strands with the occasion of my marriage. These were names centered in the west: Bean, Woodworth, Sowle, Brague.

Life happens, and sometimes that includes widowhood. Happily, the story continues with a more upbeat Part Two: a second marriage added the paternal surnames Stevens, Tully, Kelly, paired with maternal names Flowers, Metzger, Gordon, and Snider. This, additionally, expanded my geographical concentration to include Canada and Ireland.

Those are enough lines to start weaving!

Why a Tapestry?

Take two threads, woven vertically, and cross them skillfully with two threads woven horizontally, and you have the rudiments of a tapestry.

Take two people, joined together as husband and wife, whose child someday meets and marries another now-grown child of two other people, and you have the interweavings of a family tapestry.

Each paired line weaves its way through society, through the culture, through the ages. Each snippet paints a picture, tells a story. In the aggregate, each stitch is only one small part of the overall scene. Each family’s moment in history seems a mere stitch in time. But each pairing produces an effect on the next generation, and each pairing brings with it the heritage of the choices made previously. Each of us has a heritage made up of couplings of unique individuals. We have the opportunity to speak our piece through the warp and woof of our generations.

It is fascinating to consider how people—most of them common people such as I am, and such as the majority of the world is—in the aggregate make a difference based on who they are as individuals in families, to consider how they are interwoven with others to influence the world’s immediate destiny.

I am beholden to the choices made before me. I don’t want to discard them—or worse, ignore them. There is something calling me to “turn the hearts of the children to the fathers.” There is a cry to honor those who made choices to bring me to where I am. There is a benefit to remembering.

Learning one’s heritage is starting with those two strands, moving back in time to see where they intersected with two other threads, then four, then eight, then....

Mother’s Day: An Appropriate Launch for a Family Blog

“I was born this way.”

When it comes to family history, I can’t remember ever not wanting to know. I think it a fair excuse for obsession over genealogy to claim I was born wanting to know.

Though I certainly didn’t get any satisfaction from answers to my first questions, credit me with persistence.

My dad’s first answer: “Aaaah, you don’t wanna know that.”

My mom’s first answer: “....... .”

OK, next attempt: research at library. I think I had been reading for about three years when I checked out my first genealogy book. I had to cross the hall to find it in the adult section. The children’s librarian stuck mainly to fairy tales, and I had already read most of those.

Through most of high school and college, I set the dream on the shelf and tried to study practical things—you know, those things that will get you a real job.

I can remember the awe-inspiring moment when I first learned that I could get a microfilm on loan with—oh, happy day!—census records. Pure bliss.

From that point on, old libraries were my friend. There was nothing to compare with the dusty feel of ancient catalogs, the unmistakable smell of past ages in print. Yet, for years I felt as if I were enjoying the journey without ever attaining the thrill of the catch. Searching for my family name in records was the Irish equivalent of seeking Smith.

...until I learned that my surname was not Irish, after all. Some of my father’s reticence in revealing his roots started to unravel as other relatives began to disclose snippets of long-forgotten memories. Secrets of people long gone still left telltale signs. The chase became more tantalizing.

I fell to temptation and branched out to research other lines when progress on my own father’s line faltered. Though laughable in retrospect, I remember those first interviews with relatives. Most were certain their grandparents were the ones “fresh off the boat.” Most were proven wrong as I moved back through time, generation to generation, still here, sometimes, even in colonial America.

Sometime in the early 1990s, I discovered online resources for genealogy. New vistas opened—and keep beckoning. I’ve now amassed a database of family members far and wide that extends to over 12,000 names. Now that’s a family!

Along the way in this journey, there have been so many who have helped make the connections and further the research, that I want to give back in some sort of way. Oh, I’ve volunteered and helped others, too, but it occurred to me that maybe others in my very-extended family might want a way to check up on my progress on their part of the family. Not just the names and dates—those are so dull and grey. There needs to be a way to share the story of the journey, the ups and downs of the chase, the wonderment of the new discovery.

And to discuss it with others on the same path.

For this reason, I’m starting this blog. Welcome to my journey. Whether it’s yours, too, or not, I’m pleased to have you as a traveling companion.