The Wife's Side of the Story

 

Using Y-DNA to uncover more about my great-grandfather's patriline may not have revealed much, as we mentioned yesterday, but what if we looked at the story revealed by his wife's DNA? Thomas Puchała, being my great-grandfather, was a close enough relative to be identified through autosomal DNA matches. But when I looked at my DNA matches using Ancestry.com's ThruLines tool, both Thomas and his wife, Anastasia Zegarska, yielded me only two matches. Problem: I know them both. This is no revelation.

Yet, if I move back one more generation and, rather than looking at the DNA matches showing for Thomas' father Jan—no surprise here, just the same two I already know—I look at Thomas' wife Anastasia Zegarska's parents, suddenly that match count jumps. For that couple, my second great-grandparents Jan Zegarski and Marianna Wojtaś, I now have twenty four DNA cousins to research. And twenty four more advocates for examining our jointly-held roots.

In this case, the exercise serves to provide one more data point to zero in on just who the Puchała men were. Granted, using autosomal DNA to track Thomas' wife's siblings' descendants—hint: these were the families who mostly emigrated from Poland to Wisconsin in the United States—did find me some cousins in the current generation. After spending a lifetime feeling like I had hardly any relatives, I like that sense of familial connection.

But tracing Thomas' in-laws did unearth one puzzling question. Having found a few documents on the two families, Puchałan and Zegarski, I now had the name of two villages of origin in Poland. Problem: entering that information on a map told me that the two families lived approximately 185 miles apart from each other. Not exactly a quick stroll to the marketplace.

That's simply not a likely scenario for courtship, 1860s style. Obviously, I need to turn back to those maps, add some additional information, and get a solid picture of where, exactly, the two towns were actually located. A distance like that might be a deal-breaker for a budding Polish romance in that century—not to mention, the accuracy of a pedigree chart.

A Targeted Testing Attempt

 

Though I started my DNA journey to confirm that closely-held family secret that we were, after all, Polish—and not Irish, as my grandfather had insisted—the very first DNA test I submitted didn't yield me much information at all.

That test was a targeted testing attempt on my part: I asked my brother if he would be willing to take a Y-DNA test. That test, currently offered by only one genetic genealogy company—Family Tree DNA in Houston, Texas—can reveal a deep ancestry, but only on one specific family line. That line, known as the patriline, belongs to the male test subject's father's father's father's ancestors on that one specific family line. Reaching much farther back in generations than the autosomal test can accurately reveal, its results are not wide as far as DNA cousins may go, but those results go deep.

While I'm grateful for my brother's willingness to serve as my proxy in seeking the truth about our father's genetic heritage—after all, women cannot test the Y-chromosome they don't have—his test has yet to provide me any solid leads. When I thought about this after the fact, I realized that not only was he my father's only son, but my dad—by then, long since passed away—had no brothers. Neither did his father, apparently. And I suspect that was the case in the generation preceding him.

Because this research question involves some generations relatively close to the present time, autosomal DNA testing could be the perfect tool for such a case. While I'm glad I have the results to my brother's Y-DNA test—with matches still being added over time as more people test—I asked my brother to also take the autosomal test. And I took one, too—at every genealogy company that offered such kits. I didn't want to miss any possible matches.

Perhaps it was serendipity that I discovered a lead. It was thanks to the auto-clusters program added to the tools at MyHeritage, which pointed out some unexpected Polish-American DNA cousins—in Wisconsin, of all places. It didn't, at first, make sense for someone whose immigrant family had settled not far from the docks of the New York City port where they first arrived in America. Of course, reviewing the details I had shared yesterday about the most likely locations for Polish immigrants to settle, that would make sense in hindsight.

Because I went overboard and tested at five different DNA companies, I checked for Polish matches at each of those testing locations. Apparently, I had company, for someone from that same Wisconsin line also tested at Ancestry.com. That connection turned out to be a godsend, for the administrator for that DNA cousin's test was quite knowledgeable about the family line, at least in the Wisconsin area, and also had found online resources back in Poland.

Where would we be in our research, if it weren't for other researchers willing to share what they have learned? When I first discovered these DNA matches, I had no clue how they connected to my family. There was certainly no sign of any geographic connection. Though I should have suspected it, that sleight of hand in slightly changing surnames came into play once again—from Zegarski descendants in Wisconsin to the surname Zegars in my New York City family's case. It took a leap of faith to make the first assumption, but as the DNA matches started piling up, it became far more obvious that I had found the connection.

But even so, those DNA matches didn't link with my research focus for this month—Thomas Puchała—but with his wife, Anastasia Zegarska. In fact, over ten years after my DNA test was taken, I've had many DNA matches added to the list of cousins connected to that Zegarski line of Thomas' wife. But for Thomas himself, I still have the same two DNA matches I've always had. Even if I step back a generation to Thomas' father Jan, I only have those two DNA matches—and they are close relatives to me, whom I know personally. There just aren't that many Puchała descendants to match, apparently.

Still, the question is: if we can't find any direct matches with the Puchała line, can we learn anything about the men in this patriline by inferring details from what we can discover about their wives? Let's take some time to check whether the DNA can lead us to any helpful records there. 

Not Many People Talking About it

 

Research on Polish family history doesn't seem to be as popular as, say, pursuing Irish or Italian roots. It's certainly not as widespread as interest in German genealogy, with an international society devoted to such a purpose. When it comes to looking for help in seeking those Polish forebears, it seems there are not that many people who are talking about it. But that doesn't mean there isn't any help out there for those who claim that ancestry.

Considering that, at least in the United States, there are 2.6 million direct descendants of Polish immigrants—not to mention another 8.6 million who claim partial Polish ancestry—you'd think there'd be a sizable group of potential researchers clamoring for more information on how to start their search. After all, that adds up to three percent of the American population, according to results from the 2020 census.

Perhaps the silence is deafening for someone like me, living out on the west coast, considering that most Polish immigrants to the United States settled around the Great Lakes area, or simply remained in the tri-state area surrounding the port of entry in New York City, as can be seen in one color-coded map based on data from the U. S. census bureau in 2019.

There are, after all, some resources for researching Polish ancestry, including the yearly RootsTech conference, which compiles recorded past sessions and still shares them on their website. There are a few sessions focused on Polish research, including An Introduction to Polish Genealogy by blogger Julie Roberts Szczepankiewicz to help people get started pursuing their Polish roots. And there are some organizations dedicated to helping others research their Polish ancestry, such as the Polish Genealogical Society of America, which offers a free subscription to their monthly e-newsletter.

For the most part, though, when I peruse the offerings of various local genealogical societies, it would be a rare moment, indeed, if I found an upcoming presentation promoted for Polish research. It is far easier, at least from my west coast vantage point, to find meetings discussing Irish or Italian or German research. When it comes to Polish research, there are just not that many people talking about it.

So what does one do in that situation? Thankfully, now we have internet connections to meetings across the country—and even around the world. Perhaps someone in those Great Lakes regions is teaching about researching Polish records.

Better yet, I've discovered websites created by and powered by volunteers in Poland who are working to bring their historical documents to light for an international audience, linking them to their distant cousins in the Polish diaspora. For this, I am most thankful—and hope to spread the word so others can access these missing links to connect their brick wall Polish forebears to their proper place in their homeland.

The advent of the most helpful connection, at least in my case, comes from the now-widespread usage of DNA testing. What I couldn't find in past years from online documents, I can at least discover through a hint from the distant cousins I'm connected with, thanks to DNA. In anticipation of some DNA updates due out later this month, we'll take some time this week to review what DNA has shared about my family's once-secret connection to their Polish ancestry.

Pursuing the Patriline

After visiting with genealogy friends who are pursuing their American Revolution Patriots—or, even more impressive, their Mayflower roots—spending a month to discover more about my father's own grandfather seems rather uninspiring. After all, many people have even met their own great-grandfather in person, but I'm still wandering through a paper maze, trying to learn who this person is.

For this month's goal from my Twelve Most Wanted for 2025, I'll make the switch from a summer season of exploring my father-in-law's roots to discovering more about my own father's ancestry during this fall. This, however, is not an easy task; remember, this was the man who was tight-lipped about his background. Like father, like son, it's been said, and in this case it applies well: my father had his own father as an example of how to keep a family secret.

In past years, I've worked on this patrilineal puzzle. Five years ago, Thomas Puchała claimed the featured spot for my goal in November, and the following year, I explored records showing his father to be either Johann Puchała—according to church records in Latin—or, more likely, Jan Puchała in the vernacular.

Though I have discovered Thomas' father's name, thus pushing the patriline back another generation, there is still so much to learn about this branch of my family. I have found that Thomas once lived in Lubichowo, a small village in Pomerania, where he was likely born in 1844. I also have found mention of his marriage to Anastasia Zegarska in 1868 in the nearby village of Czarnylas, also in what was at that time the country known as Prussia. The difficulty is that those details only came to me, thanks to transcriptions of documents posted on websites in Poland. I have yet to locate and download copies of the actual documents, a task to include in this month's research goals.

In pursuit of this patriline, thankfully I've had some DNA help, mostly through my brother's willingness to take a Y-DNA test, but also through the few matches we've found through autosomal testing. This month will call for closer examination of the updated cousin matches as well as ethnicity updates due out this month at Ancestry.com. And I'll still keep a close eye on those Y-DNA test results, in case an exact match pops up in a timely manner for this month's exploration.

From Ireland to Poland

 

No, this is not about a text received from one of my traveling friends, laying out the itinerary while abroad for holiday in Europe. Having exhausted the resources for Irish research on my father-in-law's great-grandmother Margaret Flannery, I am giving up and moving on to my plans for October's research project.

That move is made with misgivings, however. It's not that finding my own father's ancestors in Poland will be any easier than pushing against the research brick wall in Ireland. But at least it is a new—or at least newer—project. Perhaps that will infuse some energy into the search.

For this month, my plan is to delve into what records can be found in the small village of Lubichowo, part of the Pomeranian Voivodeship—or province—in the northern coastal region of Poland. Not that we haven't wandered in that direction before; I've struggled over my father's roots for nearly my whole life. It's only been in recent years that breaking through that closely-held secret of my paternal ancestry—that we were not Irish, after all, but Polish—has enabled me to explore the truth of the matter.

For the remainder of this month, we'll review what we've already learned about my father's paternal grandfather, Thomas Puchała, and begin exploring what else can be found about his life in Poland during the mid-1800s.

Approaching Flannery Fatigue

 

It was bound to happen. After delaying my good intentions to find the roots for my father-in-law's great-grandmother Margaret Flannery due to a sickly September, I thought I'd try my best to make up for that lack. There is, however, no sense in trying to squeeze thirty days of research into a mere extra week. This goal, I decided, needed a decent full month of concentration sometime again in the future—sometime, that is, after I've recuperated from Flannery fatigue.

And then, wouldn't you know it, those DNA matches came back to haunt me. A Flannery cousin popped up in my husband's results—from Ontario in Canada, no less, home of the migrating Margaret and her husband Denis Tully and their children.

It was a small match, but big enough to tempt me into following the trail. From that Flannery cousin, I followed a Find A Grave clue for her father, (which conveniently included a copy of his obituary naming that same DNA cousin as well as all his siblings). That led to his father, and then that Flannery man's father—all while still remaining in Canada, in and around some of the same communities where our Margaret Flannery and her husband Denis Tully had settled in Ontario.

Tempting, that is, until I ran into yet another brick wall. This Flannery trail goes cold, still in Canada. I have no way to connect this ancestral Flannery from the DNA match's line to Margaret Flannery from my father-in-law's line. It seems I have a collection of stubs—dead ends on the Flannery branches.

It will take a lot more than a few days' work to unscramble this puzzle. Though I still regret not being able to work through the past month on this September goal, it's time to put it aside for another year's Twelve Most Wanted. It's time now to catch up with October, before another month disappears.

What we Find When We're Looking for Something Else

 

Rabbit trails—those tempting deviations from our intended research goal—can be dangerous, but I can't say I'd advocate ignoring them completely. Sometimes, it's what we find when we're looking for something else that turns out to be the answer to another question that has stumped us.

Take this Flannery puzzle that has kept me at bay for the entire past month of September. Granted, that month I had a rough go of it, thanks to unexpected illness and other troubles. Yet into this new month, I've still decided to persevere for at least a few more days to seek information on Margaret Flannery's roots in County Tipperary, Ireland.

Having made a listing of all the known children of Margaret and her husband, Denis Tully, my next step was to list each child's godparents, based on their baptismal record.

From that point, the tedium began: searching baptismal records from that same Catholic parish where I had found the children of Margaret and Denis—the church at Ballina—to look for the families of each of those named godparents. After all, if Margaret and Denis had selected these named godparents because they were siblings or in-laws, that would help me identify collateral relatives for both the Tully and Flannery lines. Besides, perhaps I would uncover a reciprocal baptismal relationship where Margaret or Denis were named as godparents for these siblings' own children.

Yes, I did mention tedium. I can't say I made much progress looking for the few Flannery names among the godparents. Basically, that included Kitty, William, and Bridget Flannery. Most of the rest of the godparents were from the Tully side of the family, so I continued my search on that branch of the family next.

My next search candidate, then, was Thomas Tully. Surely with that surname, the relationship would be clear: Thomas should have been a brother to Margaret's husband, Denis, right? But I couldn't really be sure because, for example, Thomas could have been selected as a godparent because he was an in-law to the new parents; he could have coincidentally acquired the same surname because he was, say, a cousin who just happened to marry a sister of one of the parents.

It was worth the detour to discover what could be found about this Thomas. In an 1834 baptismal record in the same parish for a son named Denis Tully, parents Thomas Tully and Margaret "Wilkisson" named as the child's godparents none other than John Tully and Margaret Flannery.

It just can't get any better than that. While we already know who Margaret Flannery was, we can now add John's name as another possible Tully sibling.

This, of course, brings up another possible theory, which in turn requires me to search for all the baptismal records for Thomas' children. If this Denis, born in 1834, was Thomas' eldest son, another Irish tradition would mean that Thomas' father's name would also be Denis. Thus, my Denis would, by necessity, have been the eldest son of his father—and, as far as I can tell, my Denis had also named his eldest son by that same name, in honor of his father. Perhaps looking further for this newly-discovered brother John Tully might reveal a firstborn son whose name resonates with this evolving pattern.

Unfortunately, the chance of finding baptismal records before the 1830s is near impossible for this area of County Tipperary, so discovering the exact dates and details for brothers Denis, Thomas, and John—and their parents—just wouldn't happen. But we can extrapolate from known traditions and piece together possible collateral lines, if nothing else.

Though it doesn't help me move forward yet with any Flannery discoveries, for now, I can at least add two collateral lines to my father-in-law's Tully ancestors, all thanks to the wanderings in pursuit of the answer to a different research question. You can bet I stopped to write that answer down so I wouldn't forget what I found.