So Much for Plans

 

While the new year is a time when so many people like to devise plans—or at least make heartfelt resolutions—it is often a time more full of hope than reality. Take 2020: how many of us could have foretold, at this point one year ago, that we would be spending at least three quarters of the year essentially under house arrest?

But plans are a tangible sign of good intentions, bred from hope. And with that, I make the preposterous gesture of assuming that, eleven months from now, I will be working on a research plan to delve even further into my mystery grandfather's patriline. For Ancestor #12 of my Twelve Most Wanted for 2021, I want to learn more about my recently-discovered second great-grandfather, Johann Puchała, and his possible wife, Susanna Radomska—if, that is, that was actually who they were.

To even make a statement like that is more than I could even have hoped, one year ago. It took a chain reaction of discoveries, precipitated by some unexpected DNA matches, to start me looking in the right direction for the answer to my childhood question about where my father's family came from.

Sometimes, we keep looking so long and so hard for the answers to our family history questions that we get caught by surprise when the answer finally shows up. It's as if we never really believed there would be an answer.

Yet, do I dare to presume that my research luck will hold out for one more year? Now that I have the possible names of my paternal grandfather's paternal grandparents, can I learn anything further on this family from a country—Prussia—which is no longer in existence? And how can I guarantee that I will actually make these discoveries in December of 2021?

Of course I can't. None of us can guarantee anything. But we can plan to work on the process. And that is the key.

For this (hopefully) bright new year, I've laid out the plans for where I am going to direct my family history research focus for 2021. I've selected one ancestor for each of the twelve months of the new year: my Twelve Most Wanted. All that's left at this point is to work the plan. It doesn't really matter whether I fail or succeed—although succeeding would be a vast, and more fun, improvement over failing. 

The point is to steadily focus on specific research goals, and to make progress toward discovering more about each of these twelve ancestors. Who knows what curves will get thrown at us in the course of yet another year in our future. But does it matter? The main point is stating what we hope to accomplish, and working that plan to the best of our ability. No matter what.

Let's Make it a Pair

 

As common a surname as that of the ancestor I named yesterday as Ancestor #10 of my Twelve Most Wanted for 2021, his wife's maiden name was entirely opposite. Franz Jankowski married a woman from a family by the name of Olejniczak.

Why not complete the pair and make Franziska Olejniczak Ancestor #11? With a surname like that, surely the search for this couple will come up with some helpful results.

What I know about Franziska so far is that she lived in the region once known as Poznan, or the province of Posen, in Prussia. She was my paternal grandmother's maternal grandmother—reachable not on the patriline, not on my matriline, but somewhere in the thick middle of all my autosomal DNA results.

And that's as far as I've gotten, even after all those years of family history research. Remember, this is the side of my family which was insistent about never revealing their roots, once they immigrated to America. It has only been in the last couple years—and mostly thanks to DNA matches—that I've discovered anything more on my father's family.

Since genetic genealogy is not only a key tool to unlock my family's secrets but a resource for connecting with distant cousins I never knew I had, of course I'm curious to see whether there are any other descendants of that Olejniczak line, as well. That's why I'll be building out that family line in as many directions as I can: ancestry, descendants, and collateral lines.

I'm presuming a name like that will surely stand out—or have, like so many other surnames I've researched, daughtered out or gone into oblivion for lack of descendants. I aim to discover what can be found on that surname with my research goals for Ancestor #11 this year.

Because Now, I Can

 

Unlocking international resources for genealogical research has been an encouraging move for me. It seems that, having taken those first few tentative steps, delving deeper into the records of a non-English-speaking country is less intimidating. As more and more genealogically-minded websites open up outside North America, my chances of making research progress greatly improve.

Take that experience I had in discovering my paternal grandfather's true identity this past fall. Once I became familiar with the two Polish websites available, I could see how many more records might be available to answer further family history questions—simply because now, I can access them and navigate through their stores. By next fall, hopefully, there will be even more resources available for the mere click of a mouse.

That's a good turn of events. Now that I'm up to considering the last three of my Twelve Most Wanted for 2021, that set of research goals will be devoted to my father's roots. And what a jumble of secret identities that was. It's interesting to see how, once the linchpin ancestor gets identified, the rest of the blanks seem nearly to auto-fill with information.

Take my father's maternal grandmother. Depending on which document I used, her identity could have been two totally different names. Thankfully, once I discovered those Polish websites, I was able to confirm the right name: Marianna Jankowska. But why stop there? Now that I have access to records in Poland, I can push back one or two more generations. What about her parents? And any possible siblings?

For Ancestor #10, I'll tackle Marianna's father's identity—a man I only know now by the name of Franz Jankowski. I'll look mainly for clues about his parentage, of course, but I also want to know whether there were any others in his family—especially other children who, like Marianna, immigrated to North America.

One main driver of that curiosity is to identify possible distant cousins, especially if there are any among my unidentified DNA matches. While Jankowski is not an uncommon name, I'm interested to see whether that surname plus the specific location in the originating country of Poland will help fill in the blanks for some of those unconnected DNA cousins. That information would also lend a hand in chromosome mapping to see if I can identify any specific segments that can be attributed to that specific second great-grandfather.

This past year has certainly opened up many possibilities for me to build out that family tree for a man whose past had been such an enigma to our family. After zero research progress for so many years on my father's family history, it is awe-inspiring to see how quickly the details are falling together to form a coherent story. Franz Jankowski will provide just one-eighth of that entire tale, of course, but it will be a voice no longer silenced by the secrecy of his descendants. 

The One Who Got Away —Or Maybe he Didn't

 

There's always that renegade in the family tree—the black sheep who refuses to let his story be found. If you search hard enough, you are sure to discover that one's history, or at least part of it—the part that tantalizes but never provides the relief of knowing the rest of the story.

In my father-in-law's family, we have such an ancestor. He did "get away." Or maybe he didn't. The family lore is that, though Stephen Malloy hastily escaped Ireland at the time of civil unrest, he was shot and killed upon arrival in Boston.

What we do know is drawn from a long-preserved letter he had a companion write on his behalf. The letter was to be sent to his wife on the eve of his trip to America. 

The positive part: at least that journey to Boston can be corroborated by documents; his name is included on the passenger list of the very ship he named in his letter. The drawback: once he landed in Boston, he disappeared. No reports of murder or even disappearance at the hands of suspicious characters.

Needless to say, this man's mysterious end has circled around to the top of my research list for decades, but without any success at finding answers. But every year brings new research resources, and with hope perennially springing afresh, I'm game to take on Stephen Malloy this year for yet another attempt at finding proof of his demise.

With that, my father-in-law's great-grandfather will take his place in my upcoming research plans as Ancestor #9 of my Twelve Most Wanted for 2021. I'll cast that research net even farther afield than I did in past years, and examine local history in the Massachusetts region where he was last recorded, as well as scour newspaper reports and other resources for the region.

It would be fruitless to repeat the research steps I've taken in the past, so the plan will need to include a fresh approach. Besides, it would be nice to lay this family legend to rest. Mysteries always nag at me to uncover their answers. 

Getting Systematic About Reaching Goals

 

Welcome to the twenty first year of the twenty first century.

Not that we're out of last year's mess yet, but the main point is: we need to keep looking forward. The best way to handle that viewpoint is to come up with a plan—and in our case here, we are looking at ways to approach family history research from a distance. In other words, we need a system for achieving our research goals, despite the inability to travel or do hands-on work.

I've always valued systems thinking, much more than the traditional "New Year's Resolutions" way of approaching life. If I set up a system to accomplish new tasks, I am much more likely to make things happen by making things habits than I ever could with the good intentions which spawn resolutions. I barely could make it out of January with resolutions I've made in the past, but when I set up a system to insure I take certain steps, success usually gets baked right into the venture.

Not that I don't applaud those who take up, say, thirty-by-thirty research challenges. I know those techniques have helped a lot of people make progress with their family history research. But the momentum runs down when the month runs out; I need something that gets worked into my schedule on a daily basis. A habit.

Hence, my Twelve Most Wanted for the upcoming year. If I lay out a plan for key points I want to cover in the year's research, they seem to become more do-able. One ancestor a month doesn't ask much of a researcher, especially if the time to pursue the goal is already worked into the daily schedule. And once the system seems to work well, why not repeat it for the upcoming year? Embed these goals and activities into the daily routine, don't just make them a lofty dream.

With that in mind, for Ancestor #8 in 2021, I have another of my father-in-law's ancestors whom I need to see more clearly: a descendant of the Flannery clan. Fortunately for me, I discovered long ago that a Flannery association banded together in the early days of the Internet to preserve what could be found mentioning any Flannerys in County Tipperary, the very location where Margaret Flannery married Denis Tully and became one of my father-in-law's eight great-grandparents.

The story doesn't end in Ireland, of course. That same couple—Denis and Margaret Tully—moved their young family from their homeland in the midst of the Great Famine, and relocated to "Canada West." Fortunately, they didn't travel alone, and though I can't locate any passenger records for their journey across the Atlantic, I can find not only their records after arrival in Ontario, but signs that another Flannery family may have traveled with them.

Perhaps this year, for me, will be the year of the collateral lines. I often find that siblings of the direct lines I'm researching can lead me around a brick wall situation toward the useful answers I've been seeking. For Ancestor #8, Margaret Flannery, I'll be taking a serious look at all the Flannery folks I can find in her neighborhood. Perhaps one of them will lead me home to her parents' information, back in Ireland.

That collateral line plan, of course, is yet another example of letting the system do the heavy lifting for us in our ongoing family history research. Yes, it may turn out that there are still no usable documents online containing the Flannery names I'm seeking, but by following a research system, I'm already scheduled to set aside a month for that very purpose: to find what new details can be unearthed about a specific family line which, in the past, kept me from making research progress.   

Welcome to a New Year! Now, What are you Going to Do About It?

 

You realize, don't you, that a calendar is tangible evidence of a mental construct. That's all it is. And boy, do we need a new "construct" to wrap our heads around. I can safely say I have plenty of company when I hope the best for a better year to come.

The turning of a page on a calendar can bring all sorts of hope, if we choose to let it. That flip of the calendar page also allows us to plan to make things happen. For the past six days—halfway through the twelve days of Christmas—I've been outlining research plans for finding the most stubbornly hidden of my family's ancestors. I've already outlined three key individuals I'd like to find more about in my mother's family, and then three for my mother-in-law's family.

Now it's my father-in-law's turn, beginning with Ancestor #7 of my Twelve Most Wanted for 2021. This is where the Irish side of the family gets its moment in the sun, and just as I did last year, I want to return to wrestle with some Kelly ancestors. 

It seems impossible to research Irish ancestry without running into someone with the surname Kelly, and in my father-in-law's case, doubly so. Last year, I struggled to push through the brick wall on my father-in-law's great-grandfather, John T. Kelly from County Kerry, along with his wife Johanna Falvey. While I found many details on their collateral lines, I'd have to admit that goal did not permit me to emerge from the month victorious in my research, despite many DNA clues.

This year, I'll tackle a different Kelly line. Yes, that is correct: my father-in-law had two different Kelly families in his ancestry, of which each line settled in the same state—Indiana—though on different ends of the state. For this year's Kelly exploration, we'll take a look at the family of a woman named Catherine Kelly—a woman who died young, owing to complications of childbirth.

Though her early death was tragic, she left behind not only her three young sons, but also her mother and siblings, each of which may provide, as collaterals, information which could lead me back another generation, or at least connect me with information on where, exactly, this Kelly family originated in Ireland.

Though this research plan will be a challenge, just like the way we look at a new year, I can choose to be optimistic about the possibilities, or let myself get dragged down with a negative attitude. It is, after all, sometimes quite difficult to connect the immigrant pieces in America with their roots in Ireland. But for those who let that attitude dissuade them from even trying, of course there won't be a research victory. I'll choose instead, for this year, to stand on that more positive attitude and keep trying for the win.

 

 Above: A Street Scene in Winter, Copenhagen, 1901 oil on canvas by Danish artist Paul Gustav Fischer (1860-1934); courtesy Wikipedia; in the public domain.

Seeing 2020

 

While there may be some of you who will be more than happy to see 2020 to the door tonight, we need to pause and consider, in this twilight of a difficult year, what the year may have brought to us.

To say that this would be an easy exercise would not be quite inclusive of the difficulties such a year presented for some of us, not the least of which are those families who have lost loved ones to a most unexpected disease. And yet, though we may not be ready to consider it, this strange and unwieldy year has presented us with some hidden benefits, as well. We just need to don spectacles to enable us to see twenty-twenty about this year we're about to bid adieu.

I've learned that developing an attitude of gratitude can help lift up our outlook, so even in this dreary disappointment of a year, I'm choosing to see benefits. It took a year like this, for instance, for me to look forward to an expanded vegetable garden—just in case—and then realize how much more healthy our meals were becoming when we couldn't eat out as much, or had to go back to basics in the kitchen because of supply chain problems emptying our grocery store shelves. Our inventiveness certainly got a workout—but at least we had those creative juices to fuel our inspiration.

Our lawn, as another example, experienced an unexpected revival, after post-drought ravages, because a family friend's lovely plans for a sunset wedding on the beach in San Diego got canceled. We offered, as the only consolation we could think to provide, our humble front lawn for a private garden wedding where extended family could gather safely outdoors. Surprise! The family took us up on what was a far cry from the natural beauty of the Pacific coast, and we all—after hustling to replant our dead lawn—had the opportunity to re-discover how fun it is to just get together, without all the professional trappings of a turn-key event, and enjoy each others' company while celebrating a special day. Added bonus: we again have a green, not dead and brown, lawn for a front yard.

All that to say: difficulties have a way of prompting us to delve inwardly deeper to find the resilience that keeps humankind going. I'm afraid, in our case, our inner resilience had been getting lazy and needed that workout. Even though I wish we could hang out with friends at a favorite restaurant, or travel to places we'd love to visit—just like you do—I've found that, if we have the will to overcome, there will be a way. We will overcome this year's difficulties. And we will be stronger for having faced the challenge.

Looking deep into the stories of our ancestors has provided inspiration, as well. Revisiting the stories of our grandparents' and great-grandparents' generations shows us how their contemporaries dealt with the ravages of the 1918 flu pandemic, or with the decimation of modern warfare developments during the Great War, and provide us inspiration to face our own challenges.

As my family history research reaches deeper into the past, I discover buried stories in documents of generations who came long before our great-grandparents. One such record I'll be adding to my "Twelve Most Wanted" research goals for the new year will be the information gleaned from the will of my mother-in-law's third great-grandfather, Mathias Ambrose of colonial Pennsylvania, whose daughter Elizabeth was born right in the midst of that turbulent year of 1776.

Elizabeth's father, as it turned out, chose to share in the struggle that enabled a nascent movement to emerge as a new nation. He will become my Ancestor Number Six for this year's Twelve Most Wanted, and from that focus, hopefully, I'll gain a clearer understanding of what at least one family faced during turbulent times of their own. 

Above: Washington Crossing the Delaware, 1851 oil on canvas by German-American artist Emanuel Leutze; courtesy Wikipedia; in the public domain.