Sometimes...

Sometimes being the keeper of the family history is hard. Very hard.

Nora Belle and John Asher died about 14 months after I was born. I don't remember them.

Their youngest son, James, died about a year before I was born. I never knew him.

They would add another daughter to their family two years after this picture was taken.

I knew their daughters and their surviving son. I have memories of all of them. Very fond memories.

My grandfather and his sisters. Aunt Myrtle, Aunt Mary, Aunt Martha, Aunt Louise, Aunt Eunice.

A visit from the aunts was as exciting as a visit from our grandparents. They were all rare and very special times. The best was when we actually went to visit the aunts or the grandparents.  Aunt Martha lived the closest to us. Only a few miles away, in the same county. We didn't go over there often, but it was fun. They had dairy cows and dogs. A great combination for a child. Plus their youngest daughter was only a few years older than me and my sister. A playmate finished out the perfect trificta.

Aunt Myrtle lived in Salina. A trip to Salina was always a fun time. It was even more fun when we stopped in to see Aunt Myrtle. She had a way of making everyone feel special and welcome in her home. There were always cookies, too. Mom made wonderful cookies, but for some reasons eating the same homemade cookie away from home made them taste better.

The special aunt was Aunt Mary. She lived all the way over by the Kansas Missouri border and we rarely saw her. We only went there once, maybe twice on our own. Usually her visits were when Grandma and Granddad came back to visit from California. One time we went there while Grandma and Granddad were back.

Aunt Mary had a fabulous meal ready for us. A roast with a mountain of fluffy mashed potatoes, sweet corn on the cob and freshly baked dinner rolls. The aroma filled her house. From the minute we stepped through her door I was starving. When it was time to sit at the table, she turned to my granddad, her brother and asked him to say grace.

Granddad was a man of few words...except when asked to say grace. With stomachs growling, he didn't say grace, he gave a sermon as we all peered through slits in our supposedly closed eyes at the food right in front of us. It was the only time I believe I ever saw Aunt Mary come close to losing her composure. She was truly grace under fire.

Aunt Louise and Aunt Eunice moved to Oregon around the time I was born, but I remember them. They'd come back for visits. Aunt Louise was the first person I remember having age spots. I'm sure she'd like to be remembered for something other than her age spots.

Aunt Eunice is the one I remember the least, yet she's the one I remember the most, too. A few weeks before Dad died, she called him. I don't remember if he was the one who talked to her or if it was my youngest brother. She was celebrating her 90th birthday and she wanted someone to know it.

All the people who were in the above picture were gone. I suspect she wanted to share that milestone with someone who had known her when she was younger. She called Dad.

We lost Dad at the end of August, less than three weeks after her phone call.

We lost Aunt Eunice a few months later.

Today I've been working on this line of the family. I've been scanning pictures. Uploading pictures to my tree.

And missing each and everyone of my wonderful aunts from my granddad's side of the family. I'm not looking forward to doing Grandma's side. She had a lot of sisters, too.

I grew up with only one blood aunt and three aunt-in-laws. My blood aunt and one aunt-in-law lived close by. The others lived in California. I never felt aunt poor though because there were so many great aunts. And they were great!

Aunties, each and every one of you were the very best. Thank you for the memories.

Denzil Knight's life reflected in one picture

This picture speaks to me. It's my grandfather and the first home he shared with my grandmother. They took at least three pictures that day. One more has him in it showing the land. The other picture is of their house without either of my grandparents in the picture.

I can almost hear the conversation that went on over this picture. "Denzil, I want to get a picture of you and our new home."

Granddad probably went upstairs without saying a word to change into his suit.

I can picture Grandma getting the camera and taking the picture of the house, sans Granddad. Knowing Grandma, she probably wasn't thrilled that Granddad had just walked up the stairs without a word. Luckily, she had over 60 years to realize that was Granddad's way.

When he came back down the stairs and outside, all dressed up, she probably said, "What are you doing in your suit?" Then I imagine without waiting for a response Grandma told him to stand right here, where he is in this picture.

Possibly after this picture was taken Grandma went to put the camera away. I can hear Granddad say, "Why don't you take one of me right here?" The one where there's nothing but empty land.

I'm sure Grandma thought he'd lost his mind. Why would anyone want to take a picture with nothing in the background. Except for Granddad that was his living in the background. That was how he'd feed his new wife and any children they'd have. I'm sure to him, it made perfect sense. Just as the suit made perfect sense.

If we're going to take a picture of our new pride and joy let's show our pride.

That was Granddad. Excessive talking wasn't his style. He knew what he was thinking and I suspect he thought others knew his thoughts, too. Not always, but looking back on a history of stories and adding my own life experiences with him, I think I could do a better job now than I could when he was still with us.

He liked his peace and his quiet. In later years we used to swear he'd turn his hearing aid down or off when Grandma started talking about something he wasn't interested in listening, too.

In so many ways they were opposites. But they were perfect for each other. Quiet, calm Denzil and talkative, excitable Esther.

Mom took Granddad to the funeral home after Grandma passed on, so he could spend some alone time with his wife. His mind had started wandering by then. But Mom told me that Granddad stood by Grandma's coffin, looking at his wife and tears filled his eyes and ran down his old wrinkled cheeks. Sixty plus years with Grandma and in death she was able to pull his memories back to the present with a clarity that hadn't been there for some time. Part of me wished his memories had stayed cloudy, but one thing Granddad was all about, living his simple life, on his own terms. And to him, grieving was as much a part of life as loving.

As this picture shows, if you're going to do something, do it in style. Your own personal style.

But I can't end here. I have to thank Grandma for being proud enough to label this picture as their first home. Without that added information, it would have been another picture of Granddad and the significance of the picture would have been lost to all of us.

Pictures

We love pictures. We take pictures of landscapes, people, plants, insects. Everything. If it sits still long enough or if we have a fast enough shutter, someone, somewhere will snap a picture of it. 

In genealogy there are things that make a picture good and things that make it pretty close to meaningless. 

This is a good picture. What makes this picture a good picture. The two people in the picture are clear enough you can see their face. If that was your mother or your father in the picture, you'll love seeing them in their younger years. This particular picture is my grandmother's sister holding my uncle. 

I don't know if my cousin's have ever seen this picture. I do know if they haven't, the first time they do see it they'll appreciate the fact that they can see their dad's face. They'll probably think about when their own kids were young and remember seeing that same expression on their children's faces. 

They'll probably look at the picture of our Great Aunt Ruth and see if the years melt away to where yes, this is a younger version of her. 

I didn't see my Uncle Richard very often. We lived in Kansas and he lived in California. But the memories I have of him I can see that mouth and jaw on an older version of the little boy. 

What would have made this a bad picture? Not labeling it and not having it found until long after all of us who had seen and known one or both of the people in the picture were gone, too. 

I have way too many with generic labels on them. I have way too many that are group shots of about 15-20 people on a picture that is no larger than a 2" by 3" and the label simply says "Knight relatives". No dates. No names. Nothing but the picture and the family line. Some even get more confusing. "Knight, Braden and Davis relatives." 

They could have been good pictures, but right now they are bordering on useless pictures. I don't know of anyone alive who can help identify the people in them. If there is anyone alive who could do so, their eye sight is poor enough at the age they'd have to be that it makes the picture fairly useless for genealogy purposes. 

It's still useful for historical purposes. But I'd love to have names for them. I'll spend time trying to enhance them at a larger size, but I'm not real confident that I'll be successful. 

Label your pictures. Put names, place and date on them. A hundred years from now someone could find them and they'll be thrilled to see those pictures from a time before they were born. Not only will they see the pictures but they'll know who is in the pictures. 

Please take the time to label the photographs you have in your possession. The day will come, much sooner than you realize, when the picture will still be here, but anyone who can label it is long gone. That's what I'm learning as I go through our family pictures that Mom gathered together for our family history. 

Make your pictures good or great pictures. If it's worth saving, it's worth labeling. 

Life would be easier

Life really would be easier if all one had to do when tracing your family was go up or down the tree.

As in life, genealogy is not that easy either.

I'm working on a branch my mother had spent a lot of time researching. In fact, she published a book on this line. Braden: Descendants of John and Leticia 1800-1983.

There were things Mom couldn't prove. There were ancestors, usually not direct ones, that Mom couldn't trace. Almost 30 years later I've found a few things in a short period of time that Mom would have loved to known. Still, my research is minute compared to her research.

To find the information I've found I can't go up from Mom to her dad to his mom to her dad, etc., etc., etc. I have to go up the tree, as far back as Mom could go. Back to John and Leticia Braden. Actually, I can go back to Leticia's parents, as could Mom.

Yesterday I started back down the tree. Instead of taking a direct route, I went off on the branches. Leticia's siblings. Mom and their names and several of their spouses. With that information, I go through that branch of the family. I'm finding people. I'm documenting them. Adding them to my tree with the information available on each of them.

Why? Because maybe, just maybe, one of those siblings is the line where the family stories were passed down from one generation to the next. Maybe one of those siblings passed down the family Bible. Maybe those stories and family history are preserved somewhere. If I don't follow each line, I won't ever know.

If you don't follow all the lines out, you won't now either.

In the last twenty-four hours I've found enough information that I suspect after Leticia died in 1855 that the family broke up at that point. In the 1860 census I've found several of the children in various homes. I still can't find John, their dad, but it does appear the family broke apart. That doesn't mean I won't. I very well could.

Another source when going up and down the branches on the family tree is Find A Grave. A lot of the information found there has been contributed by family members. I was able to document several of John and Leticia's children by using this source. Not only that I found some of their grandchildren. It's especially helpful if there's a picture of the headstone and if there's information on that stone other than dates. Not only does Find A Grave help me find the right descendants, it can help me know when I've been following the wrong person with the same name as one of the descendants.

Yesterday, I found a very long story about Rev Isaiah Reid, who married Mary Ellen Braden. Mary Ellen is the daughter of James C Braden. James C Braden is Leticia's brother. One of the more interesting to me aspects in the article would be missed by the casual reader. Rev Isaiah Reid's ministry took him all over the country. In fact, he was in Hutchinson, Kansas when he died in 1911. Curiously, on his way to Hutchinson did he stop by the north central part of Kansas to see his wife's cousin, James Watt Braden?

This is an important reason to go up and down the family tree and explore all the branches. While Isaiah and Mary Ellen Braden Reid aren't as vital to me, today, in 1911 when they were alive and when my great, great grandfather James W Braden was alive, they were important to each other. If I'm going to honor my direct descendants, I have to honor the family they had while living, too.

Yes, life would be easier if we could just go straight up and down the family tree and ignore all the branches, but we can't. And by exploring the other branches, just as in life when we finish a challenge, we find interesting, rewarding information.

Go explore a branch. Have fun. Who knows what you'll find that might explain a little bit more about your family as a whole.

We Are Family

Yes, we are family. Well, maybe not everyone reading this is part of my genetic family, but you get the idea.

Each one of us has a genetic family. We shared the same parents. Yet our memories and our experiences with those two people are probably different. We shared the same siblings. Again, our memories and our experiences with our siblings will be different than those of our siblings.

We come from a long line of ancestors. Some of us have a need to learn more about our ancestors. Some of us not only don't have a need, but don't understand those who do have that need.

We are who we are. Each of us is different. Each of us places value on different things and people.

We are family, but we aren't clones of each other.

Some in our family can walk away or ride away from the rest of the family and never look back at the family they left behind. Did they do so out of anger, frustration or need? We'll never know.

Some families have rich family histories passed down from one generation to the next.

Other families have to dig long and hard to find any information past a handful of generations.

Honestly, finding the stories, finding the long forgotten ancestors doesn't make us a family with the descendants of our shared ancestors. It will make us friends and feel like family with some, but not with all.

You build families exactly like you build friendships. Spending time together. Talking. Listening. Sharing your stories.

Sharing the same ancestors is a start to building a family, but it takes a lot more than shared blood to make a family. It takes the communication. The caring. The sharing. It takes time.

How does one take a group of people, from various generations, who share the same genetic background and make them into a family?

Time. Getting to know the members of the family present today. Until that happens, I'm not sure if the history of our shared ancestors is all that important.

Until we care about our extended family that's living today, it doesn't matter who begat whom.

We are family, but on so many levels, we aren't. We've let the passage of time and living our life interfere with our extended family.

Until you can share rich vivid, fond memories of those living today, there isn't much room for the rich history of those long gone.

We are family. Are you willing to be a part of my family? I hope so.

Let's play nice

It's an election year. Things get ugly. They always do. That doesn't mean we have to be ugly to each other.

Today I "unfriended" someone on FaceBook. It's the second time I did so and for the same reason. This person has a tendency to make posts that degrade everyone who doesn't believe as they do. I could live with posts that classified those who didn't agree with them as being stupid. Okay, it was a little irritating, but I could live with it.

The straw that broke my back was the post that basically said all who did not believe as this person believes is Hitler like. What? Hold on. That's crossing a line. That's going way too far.

It was in the late 70s there was a sign on the road north of Beloit, Kansas. I believe it was a sign from Farm Bureau. It simply said, "United we stand, Divided we fall." I was barely 20, if even that, and I remember seeing it and thinking that it was so obvious why would they have to put up a sign like that. It struck me in a way that I've never forgotten it. That's why in 2012 I can still remember it.

It was so obvious. Who in their right mind wouldn't know that a united front is always stronger than a divided front?

Us. That's who. At least today we don't know it.

It's why our politicians love playing one party against the other. As long as they can keep us divided the few of them can win. And they are winning.

We're losing and just as importantly, our country is losing.

This is not what our ancestors fought for in the Revolutionary War. It's not what they fought for in the Civil War. It's not what they fought for in WWI. It's not what they fought for in WWII. It's not why they went to Viet Nam. It's not why they went to Desert Storm. It's not why they were in Iraq and are still in Afghanistan.

They did all those wars so those of us at home can be free.

We're handing our freedom to our politicians by allowing them to divide us. Does it matter which party is in the White House or controls the House or the Senate if the results are the same? The only difference I see between the two parties is the rate of speed we're handing them our freedoms.

Every time we call someone a liberal or a conservative we're dehumanizing a whole group with one word. It's war 101.

In war no one picks up arms against a father, husband, brother, uncle, son, etc. But they will do so willingly against a Jap, Spic, Kraut, Rebel, Savage, etc., etc., etc.

It's up to us to stop the divide. It's up to us to stop using the labels that takes away each person's humanity. It's up to us to learn how to be united again.

No, we don't have to agree on every issue. Where's the fun in that. But if we can't talk nice to each other, if we can't treat each other with respect, maybe we're getting exactly what we deserve. Maybe we've passed the apex and maybe humanity is something we can only find in our history.

Question the politician's beliefs. Question their sanity. I don't care. They put themselves in the spot light. But to question and insult someone just because they believe a politician can do a better or not as bad a job as their opponent is not doing anything good for us as humans or us as a country.

Grow up America. You're acting like a bunch of spoiled brats. Stop putting everyone you know into one group or another. Stop labeling. Start acting like we have something in common. We do. We have a rich history, some of it wonderful and some of it not so wonderful.

Let's all play nice with each other. The truth is, the politicians are badmouthing each other in front of us, but they socialize with each other. Put your venom where it belongs, on those writing the laws, not on those who have to live with those stupid laws.

How do I get them to care?

I was assigned the task of accruing as much information as possible pertaining to William and Mariah and their direct descendants on one line for a family reunion we're having this summer.

Anyone who has gone down this route knows that it's impossible to stick with just one line. There's so many interesting branches that extend forward and backwards from everyone in a family tree.

As I acquire the information I learn new things about my ancestors. Things that amaze me. Each day they become more real than the day before.

Come August I'll have a lot of it organized so others in the family can see what I've learned about these amazing people we generically call our ancestors.

How do I get my siblings, my nieces and nephews, even my own children to care about these people and the lives they lived? How do I get them to think of them as something other than a bunch of dead old people, or in the case of Thelma and Mary people who are still dead even if they died young?

To me, this challenge is just as large as the challenge to find the information.

We'll have our Treagors, our SUVs or rented vehicles, our iPhones, laptops, etc., and attempt to imagine life in 1872. It's possible, but not probable. Unless I can find a way to bring 1872 to 2012.

Any ideas on how to bring these people to life so they'll be more than old dead people are welcomed.

A win/win day

I spent the afternoon with my uncle and aunt.

Remember when talking to your living ancestors who personally knew your deceased ancestors that less is more.

The last thing you want to do is bombard them with questions. Today, my goal was to learn a little more about my great grandfather. So I asked my uncle if he remembered Oscar. He did. I let him talk. I listened.

By allowing him to go where his memories wanted to take him, I learned something that could prove to be a gold mine. My great grandfather loved to take pictures. It's up to me to find those pictures that he took. But they exist somewhere.

I also learned my great grandfather was too much for the local hospital to handle at times and they'd call my grandfather and have him come get his dad.

I knew where my dad, aunt and uncle were born. I knew where they were raised. It was two different places a mile apart. They moved from the house where all the kids were born to the house where they'd be raised in August of 1929. My grandmother died November of 1929. In between their move and her death, was the stock market crash of 29. A very emotional few months and life changing months for my dad and his brother and sister.

I'd love to know more about my grandmother, but my uncle can't help me there. He was two when he lost his mother. My dad barely had memories of her and he was four at the time.

So I didn't go after those memories that I knew didn't exist. I didn't go after the stories about William and Mariah since it was confirmed early on in my visit that this side of the family doesn't talk about their ancestors. Yeah, I knew that. I've been a member of this family all my life.

No, what sunk into my thick skull today was the same chunk of land where I was raised is where my uncle was raised. I knew it, but yet I was surprised to hear him refer to it as the home place. I had to evaluate things for a few seconds. Home place? No, that's my home place, not yours. But the truth is, it was his home place first.

I don't know if they had both a south and east drive when they were raised there. Probably. Today there's only the south drive. The house set off the road a fourth of a mile. It was a nice walk. Go out the south drive, turn east, then turn north and get to the east drive and turn west. A nice mile walk. I can't count the number of times I made that walk throughout my years of growing up. With six of us kids there were times the only way to get alone time was to take that walk. Even then I enjoyed my own company.

I could plan, dream, curse, be whatever I wanted to be on those walks.

Today I learned my great grandfather used to walk by the home place almost every day. Summer, fall, winter and spring. He would walk from the original homestead to the place he bought while Mary, his wife, was still alive. The house was still there, but he didn't live there. The dad, uncle and aunt all kept an eye out waiting for their granddad to walk by.

There was a trunk that he kept there. He kept his cereal in his trunk. My great grandfather walked two miles from where he slept to where he used to live to eat his breakfast. Was it so he could spend his mornings with his memories of Mary? There is no way of knowing. Yet it says something about him. Maybe he just wanted to break his overnight fast alone. Without the noise of everyone who lived on the old homestead.

Not only did I learn about my great grandfather today, I also learned things about my uncle.

Today can only be summed up one way. This was a win/win day.

Silas Coalman

Who is Silas Coalman? I don't know.

In 1854 he married Lucy Letitia Birdsell in Washington County, Ohio. I'm not sure if Lucy Letitia is my great, great grandfather's sister or not. I know Lucy Jane Birdsell Pettibone was his sister.

Would William's father and mother name two daughters the same first name and call them by their middle names? I could almost see it if they were twins, but they were born about 6 years apart.

On Ancestry.com if you put someone in your tree you can get hints from the documents they have there or from other family trees that have those same people listed in them. You can go to those trees and see what information someone else has. It's pretty neat, even though a large percentage of what I see doesn't have any documentation supporting it.

When I look at the hints for Lucy Letitia Birdsell the hints are really for Lucy Jane Birdsell. Letitia is in the 1850 census by name. Then there's the marriage record for Lucy Letitia Birdsell and Silas Coalman. That's it. Nothing more that I can find for her. Other than I have her pin pointed in the 1840 census by gender and age.

Poor Silas Coalman. I found him in the 1850 census by name. Then the marriage record. And nothing else for him. Not a thing. Not one thing. No death record. No burial record. Nothing. Not only that, I can't find any hints for him on ancestory.com. Not a one.

He's gone. For all practical purposes he's also forgotten.

Why is no one looking for him?

Who was this young man that disappeared at the age of 21? Was he the husband of my great, great, great aunt?

Am I really the only person who is attempting to learn more about him?

If so, why?

He's not an ancestor. He's an ancestor-in-law, at best. Why can't I let go of the fact that he appears forgotten? Maybe it's because I keep wondering how I'd feel if it were my great, great grandfather that had been completely forgotten by the world.

So, while I learn about others, I keep searching for information about Silas and his wife, who might have been my great, great grandfather's sister.

We owe them that much.

Adam and Eve

According to the Bible it all started with Adam and Eve.

As a genealogist one has to decide what their goal is when tracing your roots. Do you want to assemble the largest tree filled with names, dates of birth, dates of deaths, dates of marriages? Or do you want to assemble a smaller tree filled with the lives your ancestors actually lived?

Either choice is acceptable. Each of us has to determine for our selves which one is the one you wish to be.

I don't want to trace my family back to Adam and Eve. To do so would soon become boring to me. That's my choice. I'm really glad when I find the works of someone who decides to go back as far as possible. It's a great resource for me.

Personally I want to find all the documents my ancestors left. Each document tells a part of their story. With enough of those precious documents one gets a feeling of who that person was in life.

I realize none of the documents will tell me if my ancestor was truly happy. Or were they haunted by something they'd done in their past? Did my great, great, great, great grandmother on any side marry because she loved her husband, or was it out of necessity to make sure she had a roof over her head once she was old enough to be out of her father's house?

Each of us has a date of birth. And each of us will have a date of death. While those two dates are important, it's what we do in between those two dates where we live our lives. I know that when I reach my date of death, my goal is to leave a trail for my descendants to find that may tell them about the things that happened between those two dates.

Each of our ancestors was a human. At one point in their lives they had dreams. They had hopes. They had goals. We'll never really know what they were or if they were accomplished. But until I can feel the humanness in my ancestor, I leave them alone.

What usually happens is one day I'll stumble upon a document that belonged to the ancestor. By knowing a year range and with having an idea where the birth and death happened, I can save the document until I have more documents to prove this belongs to that ancestor. I use those two dates to narrow my search for the life my precious ancestor lived.

Do I need to go back to Adam and Eve? I don't.

I do need to find some record that said my ancestor lived their life.

My tree won't be a tree filled with tens or hundreds of thousands of names and dates. It will be a smaller tree filled with the life they lived.

It is up to each of us how we want our descendants to see us after we're gone. Will we leave only documents, or will we write a journal for our descendants to find?

Use the phone

Yes, I preach about using the phone and I rarely do so.

Today I made four phone calls. Two were ho hum. One was okay. One was so full of information. That phone call will result in supplying me with information that I've been searching for for months. I'd almost given up on finding the information.

When I get the information I'll have to make some adjustments on my "facts", but it's worth it. It's worth it to have the facts that really were.

No more wondering.

Several years ago Vern Gosdin had a great song, Chiseled in Stone. While it applies to being lonely, it also applies to the genealogist. While wrong information can be chiseled in stone, usually they're accurate enough to get the information we've been seeking.

What if your ancestor died two days earlier than the date chiseled in  stone? But the chance of them chiseling the wrong spouse or parents on that stone is very unlikely.

What did I learn today with my phone call? I learned what was chiseled in stone. I've begged for pictures. I've called various places trying to get the information. Today I called the right number.

When you hit a dead end, pick up the phone. Call the area of country where you're having problems. I'm not familiar with the area I called about. Sure, I've learned a lot via the Internet, but that's nothing like talking to someone who lives there, who grew up there. Someone who knows that part of the world.

Days like today are the days all genealogist cherish. It's the days when we finally start seeing the information that has eluded us for so long.

It's a day to celebrate.

Pick up the phone. Make that call. You might not learn anything, but if you do it often enough you'll strike genealogy gold.

What I learn

I've seen pictures of Roscoe at various stages in his life. From a mere babe of about two months, toddler, preteen, young adult, adult and how I remember him, as a granddad.

Each picture is a treasure.

It's also a reality. These people, even the ones we didn't know, lived. They were born, went through their own version of the terrible twos. Someone even had to potty train them.

Someone taught them the skills they'd need for life. Someone watched their first steps and were excited. They clapped when Roscoe said his first words.

Roscoe went to school. At what age was he when the first girl fluttered her eyes at him? There is no way to ever know.

What I've learned is my granddad was young once. That's something we know on one level. But it's when we see pictures of our ancestors at various stages in their lives that it really hit homes. It's one of those AHA moments. It's when you realize that your ancestor wasn't born a grandma or granddad. They were born as a baby and it took all those years of living, just like you and I do, to get to the stage where we knew them.

They really were young once. They really did have a full life ahead of them. A life filled with hopes and dreams. A life filled with all the things we have. No, they didn't have all the electronics we have today, but those aren't the things that we'll be remembered by.

If not today, sometime this week, talk to your parents, or grandparents if they're still alive. Get them to talk about your ancestors. Get them to tell you stories about what they remember.

In my lifetime I had access to one of William and Mariah's sons and daughters. I was born early enough to have memories of Uncle Art and Aunt Tute. I remember them. When I see pictures of them, they stir memories. Why didn't I ask them about their childhood? Why didn't I ask them about their parents? I know the answer. Because when they were still alive I didn't know who William and Mariah were. Why didn't I know there was a history of ancestors?

This is the hundred year anniversary of Mariah's death. All those who have first hand information about Mariah are gone. Why did we wait so long to find out about them.

I grew up a mile from where William and Mariah lived. One mile. Yet is was within the past few years that I knew that is where they lived. It wasn't all that long ago that I learned they actually homesteaded.

Mom did a lot of research and if it weren't for her, I wouldn't have near the information I have today. I thank her for all she did. My complaint about her work is the same as it was forty years ago. Who were they? Yes, you have when and where they were born. You have who they married. You have their children named. You know when they died. But who were they?

Why did part of Mariah's side of the family move to this part of Kansas, but none of William's side? Why did they name some of their children after Mariah's side of the family, but to my knowledge, none after William's side?

Who were they?

Each document tells more of their story. It is up to us, the genealogist, to piece their story together. Document by document.

It would be easier if there were family stories to go along with these documents. It would be easier if my own parents had written down stories about their parents, grandparents and any family stories they'd heard through the years.

Yes, it would have been nice if the records for the future generations had been started five generations ago.

The main thing I've learned. The best time to start this family recording is today. Just remember, our ancestors lived their lives. They were young. They had hopes and dreams. They were real. They cried tears like you and I do. They laughed, they loved, they mourned. They lived a life.

Start recording your own memories. Start asking your relatives questions. Start absorbing you heritage today. Take pictures. Keep your pictures. Label your pictures.

Today is the day when you can do something for your family history. If you don't want to research, don't. Start a journal about the stories you've heard about your family.

What if?

I was asked the other day what I'd do if I learned something negative about one of my ancestors.

Let's stop and think about this for a few seconds. One of the trees that I'm working on, where I combine all the branches, so to speak, has almost 3,000 individuals in it. While that sounds like a lot of people to the novice, I've seen ancestry trees that have 15,000-20,000 plus individuals.

When we're talking about thousands of people of course you're going to find some negatives. I live in a town of about 400 individuals. The town and the people are good people. Yet I can find something that might be considered negative in almost every family. As a whole, the positive that each person or family brings to our community outweighs the negative. What do we, as a community, do about it? Nothing. What good does it do to dwell on mistakes people may have made.

So what should one do about the negative they might find on an ancestor? The first thing you have to think about long and hard, can you prove this is your ancestor? If you can't, then set it aside. As one genealogist said once, set it on the back burner of a cold stove.

What if you can prove beyond a doubt that your great uncle rode with Jesse James while he was in Minnesota? What does that information add to your tree? Yes, it says something about the personality of your great uncle at one point in his life. What did he do with the rest of his life? Was he always a little bit shady? Then it probably won't hurt adding that documentation to your tree. What if your great uncle spent the rest of his life in a new community, hiding the bad choice he made and worked hard to help others? Maybe he went on to become a doctor and had a stellar reputation in his new community.

In that situation, you have a tough choice to make. If you can prove the man with the same name as your great uncle was first an outlaw then a doctor, you'll have to decide if it's worth revealing his sordid past. Yes, your great uncle is long gone, but his descendants aren't. Remember, you're not his only descendant.

Now might be the time to call Aunt Mary and tell her what you discovered. After all, Aunt Mary is living in the same community and even the same house where your great uncle saved lives. Chances are Aunt Mary already knew about his past.

Or share it with a few trusted family members to determine if that is information that needs to be shared.

Each negative discovery will have to be handled differently.

Each one of us has things in our ancestry that we're not sure we like having there. Each family has had at least one scandal in their family. What each of us has to determine, is reliving the scandal, researching to bring it to life worth all the time it will take?

You can spend time hunting for scandals or you can spend time hunting for lost relatives. Each of us has to decide how we spend our time. Personally, I'd rather find lost siblings of those ancestors I know existed.

Part of this goes back to the post about trust. The trust our ancestors had for each other and for us.

I trust my descendants to treat my life with respect. Goodness, I've given them enough mistakes in my life for them to focus on scandals, but I trust them, if they come searching for me to focus on the good, but acknowledge the mistakes.

So, if you must, call the paper and tell them your big news, your great uncle, the Doctor Herbert Blake rode with Jesse James while they were in Minnesota. You'll have your 15 minutes of fame, but at what cost to the highly respectable and upstanding late Dr. Herbert Blake? And will Aunt Mary ever speak to you again?

Sometimes...

Sometimes it's not easy tracing your family roots.

With each direct ancestor of mine I try to write a story so those who don't want to look at the documents can make sense of what has been found and what it means.

Each time I write one of those "stories" I feel closer to my ancestor. I hope I've done them justice.

Today, those stories became harder to write. I've worked my way down the line and finished writing about those who died before I was born. Not all of them, but those on the one line I'm working on right now.

I wrote about my granddad. It's the first one I wrote about that I'd known personally. The one where I had my own memories of my ancestor to add to their story. As I thought of my version of my granddad, I remembered things about him. Things I'd forgotten. There for a brief period of time he was crystal clear in my memory. How he looked. How he sounded. The smell of his cigars. It was all there and oh how I missed him. Missed him and his quirky ways.

Then I saw who was next on my list. I stopped. How can I do this? How can I write a story about my dad? The loss all of a sudden felt too fresh again.

So, I have a list of things to get at the grocery store. I have a trip planned for the library. I'm writing a blog post.

I'm doing anything I can to not have to write about my dad in the past tense. Living with him in the past tense is harsh enough. I'm not ready to write about who he was. Not yet. There are things I don't want to share with others. Not today. Maybe this evening, or tomorrow, or next week. But not right now.

Dad will let me know when it's time. Until I get my sign from him, I will not write about him.

Sometimes working on genealogy is very, very, very hard.

Punkin: Who She was to Me

After yesterday's guest blog about trust and knowing this picture was a great image of trust, I thought about the two people in the picture. My dad and my aunt.

That tells you the blood tie, but there's always more to the story than that. That's only a portion of the story. We all have blood ties that aren't cultivated and grown.

Who was Punkin? She was my aunt? Every person she touched will have their own story. Many will be very good and some won't be. All that means, she was human and those she touched were human.

I know after her death I read some pretty cheap shots taken at her via FaceBook, that social media that shows us sides of some that we don't need or want to see. Did it upset me? Of course it did. Where's the fairness in taking cheap shots at the deceased?

My aunt spent her life teaching. She was always a teacher, in the classroom and outside the classroom. She loved kids.

I suspect at the age of six she started her lifelong vocation of mothering other people's children. Her first children were my dad and uncle, her two motherless brothers. I doubt if she ever considered the fact that she was motherless herself. That wasn't the way her mind worked.

Don't get me wrong, she wasn't one that believed in self sacrifice. She had many joys in life. Her family was one joy. Her students were another joy. Her vacations were another joy. Her friends. The list is endless.

Looking back over the woman I knew, she was many things. She was my aunt. Yes, she was at times like a second mother. That used to irritate Mom. Mom would say, "If God wanted children to have three parents He would have given them three parents." Well, in our case, He did. And in Dad's case, my aunt's case and my uncle's case, He did just that. He gave them three parents to replace the one they lost. They still had their dad, but their mother's parents came to live with the family and help raise the three motherless children.

While my aunt mothered her brothers, she had six years of watching her own mother and many more years of watching the woman who taught her mother how to be a mother.

My aunt didn't stop mothering other people's children when her brothers reached adulthood. She continued to do so, up until the day she died. She mothered her six nephews and two nieces. Then she mothered the great nephews and great nieces when they came along. And to keep life interesting, yes, she mothered her students.

The special knack she had was to know which ones really needed it and would accept her extra attention. There's an endless list of her "students" who have special memories of how my aunt took them under her wing and made them feel special and worthwhile when they were at an all time low.

She knew how to draw lines for herself, too. When she was my teacher, in the classroom she would not cross the line of teacher and become my aunt until the last bell rang. No matter how much I'd beg her as my teacher to be my aunt and intercede on my behalf with my parents, she refused to budge.

Did I take that gracefully? Not at 11, but during what would be the last month of her life, she loved to tell those stories about how I'd try to get her to take my side against my parents. I could laugh at it then and take it gracefully.

She was a walking book of knowledge of the children of Jewell, Kansas. She'd taught almost all of us and she had stories about all of us. If she ever felt malice toward one of her students we never heard it. Many will say the old saying, "If you can't say anything nice about someone, don't say anything." I never heard her say that. I did watch her live that belief though.

There is so much about her that I miss. There's so many stories that she had that I wished I'd asked about. But what I miss more than anything else about her, her laugh.

If my siblings were to write about her, their memories would be different. But I think their writings would show a very similar person. Same with my nieces and nephews. Even the majority of her students would paint a similar picture. Not all of them, but many of them would reflect the same basic nature of the woman I called Aunt Inez or Punkin.

Note: Don't ask me why we called her Punkin. All I know it's what Dad called her. I'm sure it's a name from their childhood.

Trust

The words below are from an email that I received from Linda Laird, another great, great granddaughter of William and Mariah Birdsell.

I asked her if I could feature this in my blog. She agreed to allowing me to do so.

The picture is of my dad and his sister. The trust they shared in this picture, lasted a lifetime.

And now, here's Linda's words regarding trust:


I was reading your blog again.

I think one of the things that always surprises me is the TRUST they had.

I am sure there was fear and maybe trepidation but they did anyway. They married, had children, moved to parts unknown.

They could only trust they had made the right choice for a spouse.
They trusted their children to be there for them in old age. They were their Social Security.

They trusted there would be a future for their progeny and I think that is what we feel. Their trust. Some times it is a burden.

A belief system was important and more so for the women. They had to carry the biggest share of the trust. The children came to them when they were hungry, ill or frightened.

Would the man they had chosen be able to protect them from whatever and whoever life sent their way? Feed them, cloth them, roof over their head( not always).

There was always the ever present dangers-bad water, Indians, marauders, fire, starvation, many more.

They put their trust in their MAN and their GOD.

The fear a man must have felt and dared not show. Again it comes down to trust. The trust that he had made all the right decisions because his life and the lives of his family literally depended on it.

I guess I  think of these things when I get too serious about genealogy and the responsibility we have chosen to take upon ourselves.

I want to get it right to show their trust in us was not misplaced.

LINDA

There it is, in black and white. Why we not only do what we do, but why getting it right is so important to us.

Thank you Linda for allowing me to come along with you on this wild journey.

Jody

Our multiple greats

Typically, we find out who our multiple great grandparents were by finding our multiple great grandfather first. Sometimes all we ever learn about his wife is her first name. If we're lucky we'll find a marriage record that gives us her maiden name.

But a lot of them will go through our lifetimes as Mary UNKNOWN. Or whatever given name you happen to find, but the last name is more often than not UKNOWN.

The first US Census was in 1790. From 1790 thru 1840 the only members of the household listed was the head of the household. Meaning since Mary UNKNOWN married Martin BIRDSELL all we know about her is just that. If we're lucky and she lived long enough to be enumerated in the 1850 census we should have an approximate birth year and state or country of birth.

In this case, Mary UNKNOWN was enumerated in the 1850 census. That's how we know her given name was Mary. The other bits of information we learn from this one census, someone, probably her husband Martin, told the census taker that Mary was 76 years old on her last birthday and she was born in Connecticut.

A note here: it doesn't matter if you feel it's right or wrong, but women were secondary citizens during this time frame. Any rights they had were given to them by their husband. Even if the husband gave them every right we're used to having today, most of those would not have held up in a court of law. If you spend your time lamenting about how unfair that was, then you probably need to give up genealogy and study history. The goal of the genealogist is not to change history, but to preserve our own family histories.

If you still can't let go of how unfair women had it, just remember, during this time in our history, the men in our family not only believed it was their duty to protect their women and children, they physically had to do so at so many levels. The expectations placed on the man of the household was far greater than it is today.

What this means in regards to the documents we have to work with while tracing our family during this period of time, the men left a lot more documents for us to find than the women left. Not only that, on the 22nd day of August, 1850 when the Martin Berdsell household was enumerated in Harmar, Washington County, Ohio, it was probably Martin who gave the family information. He was the head of the household and if he was present he was who the census taker spoke with.

That doesn't mean Mary had to sit closed mouth. Since we don't know anything about Martin and Mary's personalities, we can't know for sure if as Martin gave the information pertaining to Mary if he didn't glance at her and watch her nod that he'd gotten her facts correct. The one thing we do know about Martin, he could not read or write. Therefore, even if there were a family Bible with all this information in it, it wasn't something he read on a regular basis since he couldn't read.

We have no documentation letting us know if Mary could read or write. All we know about Mary is that on that date in 1850 it was told that she was 76 years old. That same date in history, someone told the census taker that Martin was 89 years old and born in New York state.

This tiny bit of information we have pertaining to Mary UNKNOWN is great information to have. Yet, knowing what I know, that as we go back in time, the only Mary I'll ever find in a census prior to 1850 will only be listed as such if she's a head of a household. Typically, the female heads of households in those days were widows and from my experience at least 50% of them will be listed as Widow SURNAME.

While it's not impossible to find more on Mary UKNOWN Birdsell, it's unlikely.

Since Mary UNKNOWN disappears after the 1850 census, there's a fairly high probability that if we happen to find a death or burial record it won't shed any additional information. One can assume that she died sometime after 22 August 1850 and before 1 August 1860 when the next census was enumerated since she is not listed on the 1860 census. Martin is in that census, living with his son Abram in Windsor Twp, Morgan County, Ohio, USA.

Sadly, we can only assume that Mary UNKNOWN is actually our great, great, great, great grandmother. To date I haven't located a marriage record for her and Martin. She's in an age group that she could be Abram's mother, but without some record of her marriage to Martin, we really don't know if she was Martin's first and only wife, or a second wife. Even with a marriage record we probably wouldn't know that for sure, but at least we'd know for sure if she were Abram's mother.

If everything on a census is accurate, we would  know that she wasn't Abram's mother according to the 1880 census where the respondents are asked to list the birth state or country of their mother and father. In 1880, Abram states is mother and father were both born in New York state.

By following the known siblings of Abram we can gather more information on the later census. In 1880 one of Abram's brothers states his parents were both born in New York state.

No, that doesn't solve the problem. It doesn't rule Mary UNKNOWN out as their mother. But, they both said that their mother was born in New York and it says in 1850 that Mary was born in Connecticut. As a matter of fact, it does state that.

Except in 1900 this same brother states that his father, Martin, was born in Massachusetts and there's no indication anywhere that Martin was born in Massachusetts except this one entry made by an 80ish year old man who would only live another 14 months and 20 or 21 days. What was his mental health like during this census? We have no way of knowing for sure.

Abram's other brother either disappeared completely after the 1850 census or if he didn't disappear leaves a trail of someone who had memory problems for a few decades prior to his death. That death record does list a history of dementia. Because the 1870 and 1880 census of this possible trail the other brother might have left means this man didn't even remember where he was born.

Also, the one brother who died in 1901 was born in Ohio. Since there is no record of Martin marrying anyone in Ohio, I suspect he brought Mary with him from the last state where they lived. Everything points to Mary being this brother's mother.

Even if Mary UNKNOWN didn't give birth to the two brothers who were born in New York, she raised them. Therefore, I'm giving her the benefit of assuming she is the mother of all of Martin's children starting with Abram and those born after him. If I find any record that disproves this, I will accept that I'm wrong.

Also, another thing to remember while piecing all this information together. Mary UNKNOWN was born around 1773-1775 according to the 1850 census. We also have to remember throughout the history of the USA state lines did change. For example, there's an area around Quaker Hill, Dutchess County, New York, USA that was disputed between New York and Connecticut as to which state it was actually in. Was Mary born in one such location? A chunk of land that at one time was Connecticut and later became New York or vice versa? If so, which state was she born in?

Also, it's reasonable to suspect that Mary and Martin lived fairly close to each other geographically prior to their marriage. One thing we can state with fact, they didn't do any Internet dating.

One thing any genealogist learns very early in this pursuit of family, the things that our ancestors had to report on a census from memory is not as reliable as the other information they reported. And the older an ancestor lived, the less reliable the memory information is.

That's one sad aspect of genealogy. First you realize they actually lived. Then as you follow them, you realize their information isn't as reliable and their minds aren't as sharp as they were in earlier censuses.

Which brings me to my great, great, great grandmother, Margaret CAROLLE Birdsell. I have a copy of her marriage record to Abram Birdsell on 4 Dec 1828. In the 1830 census for Abram there was a white female around Abram's age in his household and a young white female. The next record we have is the 1840 census. Mercy, Abram and Margaret lived a lot during the last ten years. Now they have five children. Two boys and three girls. Each of the boys is in the right age group for William and his brother, John. Two of the girls are in the right age group for the two sisters of William's that we can put names with from the 1850 censuses, Letetia and Jane. The other girl either died between 1840 and 1850 or married. She's in an age group that either is very possible. The female child from the 1830 census either died or her age is wrong on the 1840 census. Again, either is very possible. If it's a case where the one that was in the 1830 census is listed younger in the 1840 census then it's even a higher probably that this child was married by the time the 1850 census arrived.

However, after going through the marriage records for Ohio during that time frame, I don't remember any female Birdsell that might have been her. Still, I'm not ready to bury her yet. Because I haven't found any evidence of a death or burial record either.

Margaret died in 1842 so during her short life she was never listed by name in any census she was in. Other than a marriage record to Abram and a grave in Delong Cemetery, Waterford Twp, Washington County, Ohio, USA, Margaret lived her life with leaving only one document that I've found that proves she ever lived. She did leave children that proved she lived though. But proving those children were her's and Abram's requires that precious marriage record and those few census records that exist during her marriage to Abram.

When I found that marriage record it was as if I could hear Margaret sigh in relief. Finally, someone else had found that record. Someone else? You mean someone found it before I did? Of course. I have no idea how many had, but I know my mother found it, too. I found it in her records a couple months after I'd found my own copy of it. But when Mom found it, she didn't have the internet to broadcast to people that she had the proof that Margaret married Abram.

It was like Margaret knew that I'm stubborn enough to plaster the internet with proof that she gave her pledge to Abram, not his brother.

One document and one grave are all that's left of the proof that specifically names her.

Which is a great lead in for tomorrow's blog. Trust. Another one of William and Mariah's descendants wrote this as an email to me. I thought it would make a great guest blog post.

Her post explains why we're doing what we do.

It will explain why I'm adement to see to it that the documents proving Margaret's very short life are presented accurately.

In the meantime, think about what you know about your multiple greats.

Protecting our Ancestors

One doesn't have to have traced their ancestors before all of a sudden they notice something happening. You want to protect all these lovely ancestors of yours.

How on earth can you protect people who have died? One of the best ways to protect them is to make sure the information you present to others is accurate.

What about that great, great, great aunt or uncle who either died young, or is really the one you found with the same name after they disappear for a period of time? You can't be 100% accurate on that one, can you? Without new information, no you can't. So, you have two choices. One, keep the maybe information to yourself and note when and where you lost that particular ancestor. The other option is to present the questionable information, but explain in detail why this could be your ancestor and why it might not be your ancestor. Then let others decide for themselves if they care enough about that ancestor to know for sure what happened.

Which one should you really do? You can do what I do. I keep two sets of records. It depends on who is receiving the information as to what set of records they get. Some will only get the records that stop at the last accurate, 100% provable record with a note that this ancestor disappears after this record. Those closer to my inner circle of genealogy will get the full set of records, which includes a written explanation of how I made the tentative connection between the sets of records.

If you do it that way, it raises risks and benefits. One that someone will take the full set of records and run with it as the truth. That's not what we want to have happen. Another option is they will keep them and hope you do enough research to find more information to either prove or disprove your alternative theory. If we get really lucky, they'll get interested and help you find the proof to prove or disprove your theory.

To help protect my ancestors, I keep the two sets of records. The cut and dried record that's very clear. The other set where there's leads, but no clear cut answers. By selective selecting who gets what set, I reduce the risk of misinformation being plastered on the internet. Therefore I'm protecting my ancestor.

Another thing that's happened to me besides wanting to protect my ancestors, I've found I can get possessive of them. I know I'm not alone in that feeling either.

I have ancestors buried in more than just three cemeteries around here, but there are three main ones that include the majority of my direct ancestors. Walking through those cemeteries is the same as walking through a 3D family tree. Except unlike a 3D family tree those cemeteries include the family tree, but also a big old block party. All those neighbors you remember from your childhood are there, too. Many of those graves are filled with the remains of people, family and friends, that we actually knew when they were alive. We talked to them. We spent time at their homes and/or they spent time at our homes. We can hear the sound of their voice, or the way they laughed. We can't imagine anyone dishonoring them, especially in death.

Once a person starts gathering documents about their ancestors that they never knew, those who were gone long before our birth, they become as real as our ancestors and old neighbors we knew while they lived.

When I found the marriage record of Abram and Margaret from 4 Dec 1828 I realized these people had really lived. I had proof that they'd lived. I didn't have their signatures, but I had the hand written record by the justice of the peace who married them. This man took the time to sit down and log the two people he married that day so long ago. It was a young man and a young woman who stood before him. Not only that, it was my great, great, great grandparents that he saw and married that day. It made them real. Oh, I could imagine the hopes and dreams they had for a long life together on that day. Possibly they didn't have those dreams. We can't know what their dreams were or if they had dreams of their future when they married. What we do know, they lived. And sometime, no idea what time of day it was, but it was on the 4th day of December in 1828, they were legally wed.

Just as real, but sobering was when I found evidence that Margaret died and was buried in 1842. All those dreams, if they'd existed, were shattered. Not only had Margaret lived, but she'd died.

Who wouldn't want to protect the few facts available about her short life? I want to protect it and I'm possessive of her. That possessiveness is why I get angry with other "genealogists" ignore the marriage record and the grave and recreate her life to fit their theories, including marrying her off to a different brother.

When I see this, I want to own her. I want to protect her from those people. I want to honor her. She is the mother of my great, great grandfather. I want to honor her with the facts of her life. I want to honor Abram with the facts that it was he who married Margaret. I owe them that much. Look at what their marriage that started on 4 Dec 1828 has led to. They worked hard. They struggled to survive in conditions we can't imagine today. They continued to survive during tragedy.

How can we not feel protective of our ancestors? How can we not feel possessive of them?

The first time you hold one of those documents in your hand that's a record of the life your ancestor actually was real and lived a life with some of the hopes and dreams you have today, you'll get protective and possessive, too.

More on Resources

I spent part of the afternoon at the local county courthouse. I never thought I'd say this, but I adore the local county courthouse.

The information they have is staggering. I went up there for one item. Decided to ask about 2 more before I arrived. Found one of the two more. Poor little Infant Birdsell didn't even rate a death record, only a burial record. Sigh.

Just to humor myself I asked what they had on the chunk of property great, great grandpa and great, great grandma homesteaded. Well, mercy me. They don't have the homestead paperwork, other than the final one where the government said the land was his. However, they have a record of what happened with that chunk of land from that date forward. Mercy.

To say that all 160 acres is back as one chunk of land and under the ownership of some of William and Mariah's descendants is amazing at the least. I knew it took a lot of work and money to make it happen. I really didn't realize it took that much work.

When you see it on paper, all of a sudden it appears as if getting it back as one section of land would be impossible. Without looking at more records, which would make my head explode at this time, I'm still not sure if it was divided upon William's death or Mariah's death. When it was divided it was divided seven ways. Some of those seven ways were then divided even into smaller chunks over the years.

Some of the land was foreclosed on. Some of the land was traded for an equal amount in a different area of the property.

What did I learn? Who sold their share first. Kind of interesting when you see their descendants and their proprietary nature towards that chunk of land today. Meow.

How long did William have the land before he took out a mortgage on it? Or if he ever did. Hint: he did.

How long did it take to get the 160 acres back as one 160 acre parcel? When was the last payment made on the land?

So who did sell out first? According to the records I obtained today, Nancy E Birdsell Mann, William and Mariah's youngest daughter.

How long did William have the deed to his 160 acres before he got his first mortgage on his homestead? Three days.

Assuming that the land was divided up for the first time at Mariah's death, 100 years. If it was split upon Williams death, then 113 years.

When was the last payment made on any portion of the 160 acres? January of 2012.

Who kept the land within their family the longest? The descendants of Oscar Cooper Birdsell. It's still owned by his descendants. Who worked at retaining the homestead land within the family? For many years it was Viola Birdsell Bowles and her descendants, Oscar Cooper Birdsell and his descendants and Arthur White Birdsell and his descendants. Over time Oscar Cooper Birdsell's son Roscoe and his children owned the majority after buying out Arthur White's share. I believe it was in the 1990s that one of Oscar Cooper Birdsell's great grandsons bought the last portion after the death of the last farming Bowles.

The good news, there's even more information at the local court house. School records. More death records prior to 1911 when the state finally started collecting them. Birth records.

Having seen the books, please be aware, if you don't have a name, or idea of when the birth or death happened, it won't be easy to find. They are not indexed and they are not always entered close to the date of birth or death. They're entered when the person reporting the event happened to report it. I saw one that was entered six months after the date of death.

Getting to know and appreciate your county courthouse will pay off in spades when it comes to helping finding the documentation missing from your files. Once you see the wonderful trail your ancestor left and have copies of that documentation, it's hard for someone to argue with you that your facts are wrong. They can still do so, but it takes away their legs.

Each county courthouse keeps different records. Some are kept there, some are kept at museums, some at libraries. Each county is different. But each county is loaded with treasures waiting for you to discover.

If I listen closely enough, I can hear William and Mariah sighing and saying, "It's about time someone looked there."

Phones. Oh my.

One of the tools a genealogist has today that is overlooked the most often is our phones.

I can hear it now...but our great, great, great, greats didn't have phones.

Of course they didn't. But you do and so does the county offices where they lived. So does the genealogical society where they lived. If you don't want to use your phone, then send them an email.

Make a list of the places where you need more information. For example I need to find out how to get more information from two counties in Ohio regarding burials. I can call or email their genealogical society to see if they have clues how I can find out where my ancestors are buried. Most of them died before the State of Ohio required death and burial records. Some died after they were supposed to keep them, but there were several years where very few complied with the new rule. It was around the turn of the century (1900) when it was actually rewritten and mandatory.

In my own county, I need to call the local courthouse to make sure they are the place I need to go to get the death certificate of several ancestors.

The list is usually endless of the information you need to fill in the missing chunks.

Make your list. Select a day of the week to make your phone calls. Personally, I'm going to select Wednesday as my day of the week. Monday's are busy days for these various offices. Friday's are pretty useless since everyone is getting ready for their weekend. I suggest selecting Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday.

Remember, tracing our ancestors is important to us, but it is not the main purpose of the majority of the people we'll call. That's a secondary portion of their job. Be flexible enough to not call on the first or last day of the month, too.

As an added bonus, another overlooked source are the censuses prior to 1850. I realize the 1840 and earlier census only list the head of the household. But if you know the head of the household's given name and surname, the information contained in those earlier census can be goldmines of information to tie one generation to the next. You're not hurting me if you don't want to take the time to sort through them, but you're hurting yourself and your ancestry.

Is it worth it? When I found and was able to trace a missing brother, for me it was more than worth it. It's why we do this. Or it's why I do it. I don't do this so I can copy what others have done before me. I do it so I can gather even more proof that this person who lived long ago was my direct ancestor. Or a sibling of my direct ancestor. There is nothing that beats the feeling of finding another line to your family. Unless it's finding one of your direct ancestors that you thought you'd never find.

Use your sources. All your sources. Make sure you are still having fun. Genealogy is and should remain fun. If for some reason it isn't, figure out what you need to do to get the fun back into it. Then do it.

Stumped

I really don't know what to talk about today. Should I even attempt to type on here if I can't come up with a topic?

Probably not.

It's pretty similar with a lot of the things we decide to tackle for whatever reason.

What's important? I've been asking myself that question lately. Is it important that I tie every loose end together when it comes to genealogy? A large part of me says it's very important.

I see so many who don't bother to tie anything together. It's like they see a surname and first name combo they want to  use and there it is, proof that their hypothesis is correct. Except the woman who supposedly gave birth to that person died 10-100 years prior to the birth. Oops. Let's not let a little thing like that FACT get in the way, right?

My problem relatives: The newly found brother is not where he is supposed to be if that's the same person in the 1860 census. Not only is he not where he's supposed to be, I can't find any of his four children that should have been in the 1860 census yet. I can follow them prior to 1860 and after 1860, but I want to know if that is them in 1860.

The known brother can't be found in the 1860 census either. Without finding him in 1860 I can't prove he was the same one who was married in 1858 in yet another state. Nor can I tie him to the 1870 and 1880 census where I THINK I've found him. Nor can I tie him to the death certificate that I've found for him. Why is 1860 so important? Because in the 1870 and 1880 census his birth year is correct, but his place of birth is wrong and not consistent on either one of them. The death certificate has date and place of birth as it should be.

If it's not the same brother then that means there's one more death and burial record that I can't find in Ohio. Which is a likely scenario. Sigh.

I'm stumped. Do I keep pursuing this line? Or do I let it simmer for a bit and work on another line?

I should probably work on another line. That would be the smart thing to do. After all, there are plenty of lines to work on.

For some reason, this line refuses to let go of me. I keep thinking/hoping/obsessing that if I do enough research something will show up. I'll have one of those AHA moments. Things will click into place.

So, off to browse the 1860 federal census in a few more counties. As I do this I'm also aware there is a possibility that my missing people for whatever reason just didn't get enumerated for that census. If the one brother happened to be taking the four missing children to visit their parents who aren't were they should have been, then I'll never find any of them for 1860. I'll never know for sure if the one brother is the one that appears to be misplaced for that year.

For each question that is answered, ten unanswered questions pop up. It never fails.

It would be lovely if a family Bible were to fall into my lap.

Elusive Ancestors Part 2

A few months ago when I first started digitizing the records Mom had collected, I really didn't have any plan to add to her work. But as I copied her information into the computer I started asking some questions.

What motivated my great, great grandparents to pack up and move with six small children from Iowa to Kansas? This was around 1872. Moving a household wasn't as easy then and it is today. 

Did they just pack up and move on a chance for free land? 

So, I started doing some of my own research. Google can be a genealogists best friend at times. I googled the pioneers of the county where my great, great grandparents settled in Kansas. Imagine my surprise when I clicked on a few familiar names. No, not the names of my g, g grandparents, but names I've heard all my life. One of those names turned out to be my g, g grandmother's sister and husband. Another name was of a family that came from the same county in Iowa my g, g grandparents came from.

Then it hit me. This little fact of life that I hadn't even thought about. As a rule, our ancestors did not migrate by themselves. They had a support group with them or already in the new area. 

Pay attention to the surnames that you keep seeing when you research your elusive ancestors. Sometimes if you find that surname in an area, you'll find your own ancestors. 

Public records are great tools, too. Marriage records, tax records, death records, burial records, birth records. It depends on the state and year the record was made as to what information it provides, but I found an intent to marry record from 1843. That's when I learn my g, g, g, g grandfather couldn't read or write. He had to take an oath regarding the age of the bride and groom that they were of age. He signed it with his mark. I really hadn't thought about him not being able to read or write. 

Death records, especially if you can find the actual death certificate have a ton of information on it. I was able to find the death certificate of my g, g grandfather's youngest sister. It lists her father on that record. That's a link to proving who my g, g grandfather's father really was. 

Another aspect I hadn't even considered until yesterday was paying attention to the geography for the time frame when your ancestor lived. Get a copy of the location where you knew your ancestor happened to live at one time and where you think your ancestor may have gone. Think about the method of travel used during that time frame. Did your ancestor start close to a major river? Did they end up near a major river? Rivers were common modes of travel in days gone by. Look at all the roads that run next to a river. Why do you think those roads are there today? Because our ancestors went from traveling on the water to beside the water. 

What appeared to be a hard trip all of a sudden looks doable and realistic when one pictures their ancestor traveling on the river. 

And lastly, the most important thing to remember, don't discard a name because it's misspelled. If a person couldn't read or write, the one recording the information could only guess at how to spell your ancestors name. 

Speaking of names, did your ancestors leave you a trail of how they named their children? In one case, I suspect I have a fourth brother. If I've followed the other three brothers correctly, they have a tendency to name their sons after the brothers' father and after their other brothers. If my hypothesis is correct, I can narrow my search for the missing fourth brother to two names, based on how the brothers named their sons. 

Even with all that, I may never find the missing brother. 

Why do I even want to find him? Because the more family members we can locate the greater our chance is at finding the family who has the family Bible which were usually full of information. Of course, that is all dependent on when your lineage learned to read and write. 

If you loved Perry Mason, you'll love genealogy. There are so many ways to search for the elusive ancestor, even ways that I haven't considered, so please leave a message if you have tried a way that I haven't included. Happy hunting.

Those Elusive Ancestors Part one

We all have those pesky elusive ancestors.

Every. One. Of. Us.

How do you resolve them? Sometimes you might not ever resolve that elusive ancestor.

Don't give up yet.

I have several elusive ancestors.

I have a name for one of them. I have an approximate year of birth and state of birth. I have an approximate year of death and state of death. Still there's so much missing information. How will I bring it all together?

One step I can take is I can get in my car and drive to the two counties where he was known to live the last forty some years of his very long life. Since I'm puppy training, getting the garden ready and doing all the day to day things, that is not an option at this point.

This is where the subscription to ancestry.com comes in very handy. Before I go into how I'm taking advantage of my ancestry.com subscription, I'll tell you what I have.

I have this family located in the 1830, 1840 and 1850 census. Some of them I can follow in the 1860 census and beyond. Some of them, not so much. One I can't find in the 1860 census. That one I suspect I have found a marriage record for him and possibly I've found him in 1870 and 1880 and even possibly his death and burial record. However, I really can't tie the post 1850 record to him until I can find a record to tie my hypothesis together. The most obvious record to search for is the 1860 census.

Obviously he isn't showing up the usual way. How can I find him? I have three states where he possibly could be located during the 1860 census. Two aren't as likely as one state is. In the one state where I suspect he probably is, I have the best guess narrowed down to two counties. My job is to start with the most probable areas and physically look at each census in those counties. This is where my ancestry.com subscription more than pays for itself. I can do that search in the privacy of my home at all hours of the day.

How does on search the census for a specific state, county, township? Sign into ancestry.com. Move your cursor to search, then click on census and voter lists. When the new page opens on the right side there should be an option for US Federal Census collections. Click on that. When the new page opens, scroll down and on the left hand side of the page are the lists of census years. Click on the year you wish to search.

On the new page on the right hand side you'll need to select the state you wish to search, then the county and then the township. This is not the time to use the index, so if that's showing on your screen, click the "image only" button right above the image. Your goal is to actually look at the names on the census. The indexes are created by humans. Typos happen more often than you'd think.

Also if your ancestor happened to be staying with another family during that census they might have been indexed under that family name. Or the writing was sloppy enough, or the page was smeary enough that the one doing the indexing was taking their best guess and guessed wrong.

This is probably a family name you've seen on various census so you should have a fair idea about the different ways that surname was spelled over the years. Remember, for many of us, some of our earlier ancestors could not read or write. They didn't know how to spell their last name. Plus for our real early ancestors who migrated from one state or country to another they had an accent that might make the way they pronounced their last name very different from how you pronounce it today.

So, step one to finding the elusive ancestor is to browse the census to see if s/he is really where you thought they should have been, but were overlooked for various reasons when that census was indexed.

Plagiarism in Genealogy

When we think of plagiarism we normally think of books, pictures, or music. Most people don't even connect plagiarism with genealogy.

No matter what industry plagiarism happens in it's basically the same concept. Someone has stolen someone else's work and claims it as their own research/work. In the world of genealogy the majority of genealogists only ask for recognition when you use their hard work. And really is that asking for too much? With some people, yes. Yes, it is. It's asking for more than they dare give up.

It doesn't matter if you're writing the great American novel, a Broadway hit, a fabulous song that will be sung for generations to come, or tracing your families roots, none of these things are done in a vacuum. Watch any awards show and you'll see the winners thanking everyone they can in the few seconds they're allowed. They know without these wonderful family, friends, etc., in their corner they probably would have stayed and ended up working an office job that they'd hate.

When tracing your family roots you must develop relationships with virtual strangers. Sometimes you'll learn that you are related to each other, but the fact remains when you contact that person, or they contact you, it's two strangers during those first few meetings.

I'm very new to genealogy myself. I watched my mother research the various lines for years. For the most part, I didn't see all the day to day struggles she had. When she first started I was in high school and who wanted to pay attention to a bunch of old dead people. Then it was time to move out of my parents home and become an adult. Still, I knew she spent a lot of time and money on getting the wonderful records she left us as her legacy and as our legacy.

No where in her notes were warnings of the blood suckers in the world of genealogy. Maybe she didn't make those notes because she did all her research before the days of the Internet. When she shared she had no way to track who was using what and claiming it as their own work. I also know one thing about my mother, the thought that someone would do that didn't even register on her radar. It didn't register on mine until I saw it.

There are many like me, a second generation of genealogists. One thing we know about our parents who left us their records, we know their work. I can spot my mother's work very easily and quickly.

What new genealogists do not know, most of us who are second generation genealogists have the original records. We have the dated copies of the letters our parent sent to the various offices to get the records. They did not have computer printouts of the census record obtained from ancestry.com. They have copies of the HUGE copy of the original census record. They have the copies of the marriage records, death certificates, etc., that bear a certification from the local level.

We have those original records in our files. We have proof that you stole their work and claimed it as your own. One each one of those records are dated from the organization who sent them the record of when they sent the record to them. We have proof.

So unless you have your own original copy of those records, don't pass them off as your work. Give credit to the person who actually did the work. Stop being a thief. Stop trying to pretend you're something you're not. Any genealogist who believes in accuracy can spot a fake and the plagiarist within three minutes of looking at that person's tree.

It's the same with pictures. Stealing someone else's family picture without giving them credit for sharing it with you is plagiarism. Making it appear that you have the connections to have obtained that picture while living thousands of miles or even in a different country all by yourself is being dishonest.

While there's very little that can be done legally about plagiarism in the world of genealogy, the one weapon we have at our disposal is we can hide our work from you. We can take everything offline or hide our family trees.

Have I done it? Of course I have. Do I know of others who have done so? Of course.

Plagiarism is stealing. Most people don't like thieves. Perhaps if your circle of information is slowly decreasing you should take a good long look in the mirror.