Considering the Letter "J"

 

When I begin a new family history research project, I generally like to start by reading up on the history of the surname I'm seeking. In the case of this month's project—finding more about the roots of Elizabeth Howard Ijams—before we even begin with Ijams, we'll need a crash course on the letter "J."

Why the letter "J," you ask? Just take a look at the many variants of that surname's spelling. While I am fairly certain my mother-in-law's fourth great-grandmother Elizabeth Howard married a man whose surname was spelled I-j-a-m-s, it is also possible that the English-speaking record-keepers in colonial America might have recorded such a name as Ijames. Or Iiams. Or even Iams, like the pet food manufacturer. There has been so much confusion about researching this surname that one family member, frustrated, posted a long commentary on the situation over twenty years ago; the fact that it still shows up in search results today may be telling.

In my opinion, one hidden cause of the spelling variations may be owing to the history of the letter "J" itself. For centuries, the letter J was merely a fancy, decorated form of the letter I. Depending on how stylized the scribe might have wished his manuscript to appear, that letter I could have appeared utilitarian and austere—or highly embellished.

Such a situation leaves us looking through colonial American records for the husband of Elizabeth Howard under several alternate names: William Ijams, or Iiams, or Ijames, or...

Strangely enough, it wasn't until I found some information embedded in a family history of Elizabeth's second husband, Major John Whistler, re-posted at Ancestry.com, that I got any clues of where to look next in seeking Elizabeth's roots.

Of course, you know how it can go with following unsourced family histories. Regardless, this is what I found on that shared document from an unnamed writer, concerning John Whistler's second wife, Elizabeth Howard:

She was the daughter of Joseph and Rachel (Ridgely) Howard of Anne Arundel County, Maryland. Elizabeth married first, William Iiams (Ijams) of Frederick County, Maryland and had ten children. Sometime before 1806, the family moved to Fairfield County, Ohio, near the present-day town of West Rushville. William Ijams died probably in late 1815.

Keep in mind, this passage was from a genealogy concerning the Whistler family composed by an unnamed researcher, re-posted onto someone's tree at Ancestry.com. It might be correct—or it could be horribly mis-informed. And yet, the passage included several resources named at the end of the document, including quoted material attributed to a second cousin, once removed, of my mother-in-law.

Of course, any named resources are fair game. Many such old books and periodical publications can now be accessed on Internet Archive, so I looked for what could be found. One thing led to another, following such clues as Elizabeth's supposed parents' names and locations such as Frederick County and Anne Arundel County in Maryland. And I found something: an old genealogy book.

Granted, a family tree published in 1933 or earlier is no more immune to errors than an electronically-published tree posted in a more modern century. But we can still use something like that as our trailblazer. We just have to keep in mind the goal of replicating those findings—and critically analyzing them for an applicable fit to our situation. Let's take a look at one of those books tomorrow.    

A Blog Needs A Voice

Perhaps you are thinking: “A genealogy blog is a blog is a blog…”

In the genealogy blogging world, that may have been so—oh, about a couple thousand blogs ago.

Now, amidst all the online offerings clamoring to be heard, a genealogy blogger needs something to differentiate her writings from the din. A blogger needs a voice.

Face it: we’ve got so many blogs to choose from in our free-reading universe. And there are so many different approaches. There are blogs by genealogy experts. By specialists in geographic regions. Or specific approaches, such as utilizing genetic studies, or taking research cues from a librarian. There are those focusing on tech aspects of research. Or preferring to tie roots with religious heritage. Some find a way to bring a smile—or a laugh—no matter what they choose to discuss.

But the niche I look for is the segment of genealogy blogs that seeks to tell the story. The ones that aren’t dashing through the generations on a quest to catalog the names and dates of as many ancestors as possible. Rather, the ones which prefer the slow journey of stopping along the way to absorb the aromas of life each of those generations must have experienced.

Even within these niches, each writer can manifest a voice. Some voices can be syrupy, some may be tart. It’s not that some are right and others not. It’s just that we find some that speak to us more clearly, and some we prefer listening to. Think of it this way: “niche” is a way to label the content of a blog; “voice” represents the process of how you narrate your story.

If you are not sure what I mean by “voice,” you will intuit the sense of it immediately with this brief blog tour. Consider first this blogger. While she may not know it—or me, for that matter—she is one of my most admired genealogy writers, mainly for the chance she gives readers to take in a breath of fresh air. As blunt as someone introducing herself at an AA meeting, here’s how she bills herself:

“My name is Kerry. I like dead people.”

Okay, we got that pretty clear. Straight and to the point. We know exactly the style of delivery she’s promising to fuel our genealogy addiction. That’s the approach that draws a needs-no-clue reader to Kerry Scott’s Clue Wagon.

Contrast that with the very hush that can be sensed when reading about the religious ties that bind some of us to our Catholic heritage. I almost sense the need to play Gregorian chants in the background as I read The Catholic Gene.

When it comes to genealogy blogs that seek to tell a story, having a “voice” is necessary there, too. Oftentimes, we may find ourselves adopting the very voice of the characters we are portraying—the ancestors whose journals and photographs we are displaying as part of our content. That is partly what sets aside blogs like Linda Gartz’s Family Archaeologist, which uses her parents’ and grandparents’ own letters and journals to piece together the story of their journey to their adopted city of Chicago. Or Lisa at Smallest Leaf's 100 Years in America who patiently pursued the mystery of her own third great grandfather's origins in Croatia, and was rewarded with indications of how his life touched others in his city thanks to discovery of publications of the time in his native language. Woven into source material like that, though, is the writer’s own reflective “voice” providing contextual observations concerning the times and place settings the documents feature—and by connecting those times with our own.

In one way, adopting a voice is like seeking the best way to “explain” the actions and choices made by our ancestors. It’s the framework we use to make sense of what happened in our own past—often a past that was beyond the reach of our own life span.

While we may never have met these people in real life, the events that shaped their lives ultimately touched our own in some way—be it ever so small. That’s the part of our roots that I focus on when I ferret out the message behind the data and documents. Perhaps it’s that relay race of influence passed down from generation to generation that fascinates me—that draws me to such a niche.

Based on what I’m explaining about my own family stories, I’ll inevitably adopt a different tone—my “voice”—to the way I convey these episodes than you would for your scenes in your family story. While content such as diaries, letters, photos and memorabilia provide some excellent devices to employ in getting the story across to a reader, it not only serves the content aspect of narrative device, but influences the process mechanism that allows you to differentiate the sound of your blog from that of all others.

While all stories about families can be fascinating—even to strangers who’ve stopped to listen—it is ultimately the voice that becomes the recognizable feature which will draw those visitors back to your blog’s audience for the next story.


Above right: Cesare Maccari's 1889 fresco, Cicerone Denuncia Catalina (Cicero Denounces Catiline); courtesy Wikipedia; in the public domain.