If Your Momma Ain’t Intrigued, Ain’t NObody Gonna Be Intrigued!

(From The Princess Bride)

Inigo Montoya: “I do not mean to pry, but you don’t by any chance happen to have six fingers on your right hand?”

Man in Black: “Do you always start conversations this way?”

I love Inigo. He’s focused, passionate, and funny.

Intriguing,too.

Sort of like my new friend, Cathy. In just three meetings with me she has “completed” her 4-generation pedigree and is well on her way to filling in the details of the fifteen family groups.

I always give homework and rarely remember what assignment I gave. I should probably write them down? I’d be a fun teacher. My students would get away with a lot. But we’d also have fun learning, too. Exciting subjects drive themselves. Don’t you think?

Cathy has surprised me two times now by coming into the Family History Center having done hers. She’s amazing. She needs no reminders. We laughed about how tired she was. On Tuesday night we both left the Center and worked on some of her family history puzzles late into the night. She admitted that she had the next day off from work and spent the whole day looking for the link between two great grandparents with the same last name. That was the homework assignment she’d been given that she was so excited to share last night.

“You did?!” I squealed.

“Yup. I found them.” She started talking to herself as she fingered through her files, looking for the one with the goods in it while I peppered her with  distracting questions.

I switched chairs to sit at her right, explaining that I sleep on the left side of the bed, but I’m used to sitting to her right. My friend got a chuckle out of that declaration.

“You mean they were sisters?” I asked.

“That means that their great-grandchildren, one a boy and the other a girl, got married?” I looked at her, waiting.

“”They’re a few logs removed from the wood pile,” she said matter-of-factly, staring straight ahead at the computer screen. Oh, my! She makes me laugh!

 I had to get my cousins chart out to figure out what to call them. From now on it’s going to be hanging in the Center.”Cathy! Your mom and dad are third cousins!” No big deal, but really fun!

It was 8:30 and my ride  had arrived, so we wrapped things up and I went home . While unwinding on the couch, Kyle asked, “What do you DO with people there?” which he followed up with, “I have NO interest in that at all!”

To which I replied, “It’s in the stories, Kyle. You get hooked in the stories. We (Cathy and I) opened up a World War I draft registration record and found out this guy had three fingers on his left hand.”

Kyle just stared at me with a squinched up nose. Guys love blood and guts and action! The kind that Inigo Montoya delivers. I think my son was starting to get it, but he just laughed and shook his head.

But my mind was already off imagining about how it had happened.

‘Cause in the end, that’s what intrigued me the most. And if  Momma ain’t intrigued, ain’t NObody gonna be intrigued!

Ha! What intrigue have you found in your ancestors’ closets?

Family History and the Art of Cloning

Do you have ANY idea how many people are excited to start and/or work on their family history? The answer doesn’t matter unless they all walk through the Family History Center door at the same time with a smile on their face, papers in their hands, and a steady gaze that says, “Help me!” AND they’re all looking at you!

I was sitting with one young woman, shaking hands with four visitors, while saying “Hi! You’re back!” to Cathy (with a C, not a K, I learned)…

And then the phone rang!

It’s quite a challenge to stay composed when you are anything but calm on the inside. I’ve never mastered talking to more than one person at the same time (I’ve practiced for 26 years with 9 children and the only thing I’ve learned is to NEVER make eye contact with anyone but he with whom you are talking. Acknowledge them with a hand wave and a “just a minute” finger, but that’s it or they’ll start talking over everyone else.)

Long story short, I believe in miracles.

I hung up the phone and turned to Cathy who sat patiently waiting for her turn.

“So. What are we doing tonight?” I asked as we pulled up FamilySearch.org  and Ancestry.com. She fidgeted for a minute because she didn’t have an answer.

And then I saw it! “Look at you! You made it!” On her lap sat a perfectly organized accordion folder, full of files that we’d put in piles the week before. Do you know how excited I was? She’d taken my advice and spent a bit of time getting what she had in order.

“How do you like it?”

Cathy was a changed woman. Her confidence had grown so much. She opened the folder and pulled out a file, showing me the label and accompanying pictures for the family that had taken up residence inside. We added a family group sheet to each folder and spent an hour searching for records in one of them, We drew timeline on the front, copied documents and placed them in the folder, updating the family group sheet as we went.

She was thrilled to be able to make some progress where her deceased sister had left off. She was getting closer to her goal of having four generations of her family history documented and ready to share with her sisters when she visits them in August.

Next Tuesday we’ll make an account for her with Legacy Stories. She’ll start with a free one, and we’ll add her sisters so that they can see and share everything she’s working on. We’ll scan and upload the pile of old photos she showed me, and maybe make 5 of the Talking Photos(they come with the free account, too).

We’ll look at The Leave a Legacy program( family tree website) and see if it’s a good fit for her family. If so, we’ll upload her GEDcom file from Ancestry into it.

Everything was falling into place for her. Soon she won’t need me anymore.

And then it dawned on me…

I can be very bold, usually with no warning.

“Cathy? Would you start volunteering here in two weeks?”

You see, there’s no way that two consultants can help everyone. The Center is getting very active. I’m waiting for approval for 4 other consultants, but my gift of impatience got the better of me, and much to the surprise of my friend sitting across the room, I decided to go fishing for the fish sitting right next to me instead of wait for the imaginary ones in the other pond.

“Sure!” she said with a smile. No hesitation. No sign of insecurity.

“The only problem I might have is navigating screens.” she admitted.

“All you have to do is help someone who knows less than you do. Just stay a few steps ahead of them and you’ll learn very quickly.” I assured her.

Done.

It really does make a difference to ask. You know?

With a lot of mini-me’s I can spend more time on MY family history, and researching and writing stories. It’s a win-win! Or a win-win-win-win!!

• I win freedom for other pursuits by training people to do my job
• The Center benefits because when something happens and I can’t show up, the work goes on.
• People are given the opportunity to learn and grow at an accelerated pace, and then give back by serving someone with their knowledge and skills
• The cycle repeats as those new consultants train the next wave!

Easy!!

Now…to apply that concept to housework!

Family History Sunday Series 1:10 When Salt Loses Its Savour

“Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted?” Matthew 5:13

Family history and genealogical research becomes like salt that has lost its savour when it does not meet it’s intended goals of connecting and uniting  family members in love-  both the living to the dead and the living to the living, and preserving their histories from which the living are strengthened.

• When the quest to see how far back in time one can go in a family tree, overlooking the need to thoroughly research one family group, the savour is lost.
• When the stories within the research are never discovered, written, and shared, the savour is lost.
• When the research is never found to be perfect enough to share, the savour is lost.
• When whole family lines are avoided due to offenses and bad feelings, the savour is lost.
• When intense focus is given to one family line in hopes of finding royal connections or celebrity, the savour is lost.
• When family history is relegated to the “hobby” pile instead of the “essential” pile, the savour is lost.
• When more time is spent researching the dead than making memories with the living, the savour is lost.

A little sprinkle of salt enhances the flavor of everything.

The flavor is already there.

The salt is just the catalyst that draws the flavor into the water which it naturally attracts to itself, carrying more of that flavor with it.

Too much salt and it doesn’t work. You just get too salty!

Doing family history and genealogy for the right reasons are like sprinkling a bit of salt on a piece of melon. How? A melon is fine just the way it is. So is your life. I would like to suggest that there is so much more to “taste”. There is so much more flavor to enjoy. Pick any family member from your family “garden”, one who has passed on or one who is still living, get to know them better in an interview or a little research if they are no longer living, and see how that experience changes you.

I promise you it will. You will “taste” more love, love that already exists and is waiting to be found and shared.

Wherever you find love, you’ve mined in the right place.

Not everyone will be “mining” with you. That doesn’t mean what you’ve found isn’t valuable. But for now it may only have value for you. Which then brings us to salt’s ability to preserve.

It doesn’t take much to preserve a memory, photo or story these days. It’s in the stories themselves where the flavor of a life is experienced. You may have collected documents and photos from which someone else will eventually write the story. But they have to be preserved and easily found or that story will never be written. When we preserve those things, and then the stories. we have essentially invited our loved ones to a picnic that has no start or end time, but promises a feast that never spoils and always satisfies.

So what do we have to do?

• Find them (the living, too!).
• Enjoy them.
• Share them.
• Preserve the memories.

You have to admit, salt is amazing. It’s not only a flavor enhancer and preservative, but also a very good teacher. No?

Family History Sunday Series 1:8 Military Records

“The nation which forgets its defenders will be itself forgotten.”
   - Calvin Coolidge

When I find out that someone that I’ve been searching for served in the military, I wake up. When I learn that they died while serving, my heart drops every time. Knowing that someone was probably far from home and friends and loved ones makes the loss harder. Imagining the news of the death as reported to next of kin brings me to that place where those who have grieved always arrive unprepared, sometimes kicking and screaming, and never leave of their own free will.

Searching military records is hard for me, but it’s also exciting and extremely rewarding.

You might not think so, but military records can be full of information that can fill gaps in some people’s history, making a more complete (not perfect or finished!) submission of a family tree to FamilySearch.org easier.

Remember to focus on your living relatives who served or are serving now, too. Recording their memories now will add depth of understanding to their life for future generations. Add their military photos, documents, and stories to your account at LegacyStories.org for family and friends to enjoy.

Links to some of my military related posts:

Tears in Heaven: He Could Have Been My Boy

Father and Son Stories

FYI: I’ve ordered records online (for my father), and I’ve found quite few on Ancestry.com. So as not to overwhelm you, I’ve only included National Archive links in this post.

From the National Archives Website:

1. The National Archives holds Federal military service records from the Revolutionary War to 1912 in the National Archives Building in Washington, D.C. See details of holdings.
2. Military records from WWI – present are held in the National Military Personnel Records Center (NPRC), in St. Louis, Missouri, See details of holdings
3. The National Archives does not hold state militia records. For these records, you will need to contact the appropriate State Archives.

Links from the National Archives 

Request Military Records

• Request records online with eVetRecs
• Other ways to obtain service records
• Learn about military service records (e.g. DD Form 214)
• Special notice regarding requests for copies of military records

Research Using Military Records

• What’s available online?
• Locate older (pre-WW I) military service records
• Using military records for genealogical research
• Other military and veterans records

Replace Lost Medals and Awards

Browse WWII Photos

Remember Who You Are

When I look at my little morning glory, wrapping itself around the one sturdy, and consistent thing that shares its space to allow for growth upwards, I think ,

 ”Remember who you are.” 

Then I see the singular, solitary bloom that exists to make me smile.  In the three days since that blossom appeared I’ve regarded it about as many times.  And again I’m reminded,

 ”Remember who you are.” 

Below the magnificent simplicity lie many tendril vines, searching for something greater than themselves. I think,

“Do you remember who you are?”

I tenderly and hopefully wrap them around the first and beg them to

“Remember who they are.”

Walking away from the moment I hear,

“You are the vine stretching towards strength. Offer yours.

 ”You are the flower created to offer beauty. Smile for ME. 

“You are the wayward tendril that needs help sometimes and, 

“You are My hands. Use them wisely.

 ”You have a work to do. Do it well.”

Singular, solitary, magnificent and simply beautiful, and ofttimes not regarded.”

                                                                                                                                 

Mr. Wizard,Do You Have a Special Necklace For That?

 

There were times in my life when I’d wished there were friends by my side and a man behind a curtain who could fix the seemingly unfixable. Give me strength and courage, a heart or a way home. But really he’d show me that those things were inside of me the whole time, and he’d have the patience to guide me and to help my confidence grow. And when all else failed, he’d remind me to laugh and move on. Life is too short to be sweating the small stuff.

But what stuff is the small stuff?

When I was in high school I was acing biology. It was so easy to me. But when I found out we each had to give a ten minute oral report in front of the class, I marched down to the head of the department and declared that I wasn’t going to need biology (a required course for graduation) because I was going to be a dancer. He said, “Really?” as he leaned back in his chair giving my attitude the “once over” and agreeing on the spot to letting me waive the course.

Why was that so easy? Why could a shy 16-yr-old girl convince an old 40-something man that she knew who she was and what was good for her as far as her education was concerned? Why didn’t someone pull back the curtain and see the fear of public speaking that consumed me for years? How many people actually take the time to look beneath a person’s behavior and ask why it is the way that it is, or what it’s really hiding?

Well, I found one of my ancestors who shocked the pants off of me last week. I’ve been researching the Moody family, Stephen and Judith, and their two children, Henry, who was killed in the civil war, and Estelle.

Estelle Moody, born in 1848, eventually married Thomas H. Kelley, my great great grandfather. It was while I was reading the 1880 census for him, Estelle and their son, Edward that I discovered that he couldn’t read or write. I flipped to pages before and after, and he was the only one that I found who was illiterate.

Can you imagine not being able to read and write? Everything I do revolves around the two. How in the world does someone survive without those two abilities? And why couldn’t Thomas read and write? Did he have dyslexia or some other learning disability that he compensated for by being social and serving others? How long did it take before Estelle knew? And what a blessing it must have been to him to have Estelle help him compensate for what he lacked.

Thomas was a barber. His son became a broker in New York, as did his son, my grandfather. Was Thomas a barber because that was one of the only “safe” professions for him? I have to wonder.  Did he focus on honing his skills as a barber and a good listener and easy conversationalist? We all do those things that we are most comfortable and skilled at doing, especially if we have a weakness that if exposed would set us back a bit. Or perhaps everyone knew and accepted the fact that Thomas didn’t read or write.

All I know is the memories that this one fact about his life brought back. I was perplexed with the power that I was allowed to have. I couldn’t believe that no one was adept enough to see that there was something wrong and that I needed help. Fear is an awful thing to live with. Fear of being found out and people seeing the way that you really are, imperfect like everyone else, can be paralyzing. I figured that’s what adults were there for. They were supposed to be your back bone when yours went to mush temporarily. I was so disappointed. I hadn’t fallen through the cracks. I’d created one for myself and had jumped right in it!

Thomas Kelley, however, lived in a day when dyslexia wasn’t diagnosed and being illiterate might have been easier to live with than today.  But therein lies the problem. We can all learn to survive without some skills. We can cope and overcompensate. But can we thrive? Thomas was probably a very happy, contented man. He probably had many customers who were friends that kept him feeling vibrant and useful.

I have to ask what it felt like not to be able to read a story to your son, or to listen to him struggle sounding out new words and not have a clue how to help. When Edward started writing his name and asked him how to spell certain words, how did Thomas feel telling him to ask his mother for help? How did it feel not being able to read mail from your son, or to write letters to friends? And why wasn’t the discomfort of those never-ending situations enough to motivate him to get help? Did he just feel too old? Had he given up?

Just questions.

You can answer them for me.

 

 

 

Family History Sunday Series 1:5 The Student Teacher

So. I have good news and bad news. Good news- I got Internet access for a minute! Yippee! So the Sunday Series continues. Bad news? My head has been completely muddled and I haven’t been able to focus on anything but my pillow. We will get back to learning something new in the near future…hopefully next Sunday! Cross your fingers. Please.

Gone Fishin’

 

Just a note to let you know I’m on an extended leave of absence…not by choice! I’m still thinking about you and scheming up new things to write about. Will be back soon as I can. In the meantime, I’ll be having some fun, as should you. Feel free to leave some entertaining comments for me so that when I check in I’ll have a good laugh. That would mean a lot to me.

Ciao for now! Keep smiling!

 

She Slipped Through My Fingers

 

“If I cannot understand my friend’s silence,

I will never get to understand his words.”

One minute I was on top of the world. I’d found her. The next I was in despair. She died too  soon.

I wonder how William took it? He was married for the first time at the age of 38, and lost his wife 10 months later to uterine cancer. Judith was only 37.

I have searched for Judith for a long time. When I finally got a hold of her, and felt like I was making progress getting to know her, she slipped through my fingers. She was my third great-grandmother on my mother’s side, and her silence is deafening.

Silence is a strange thing. Joanna, a childhood friend, never spoke. Her parents said she would talk at home, but never to anyone outside of the family. It was a personal challenge to me to see if I could get her to open up because we had become playmates and I sensed an inner joy that had gone underground for some reason. I was thrilled the day that she started giggling and then chatting away with abandon. We’d been playing and I was talking to her as if she and I were carrying on a normal conversation, and to my surprise she started holding up her end of it.

I learned something profound that day: people usually act the way that you treat them. Sometimes they’re secure enough in who they are to stay strong through whatever life hands them. But ofttimes they learn to cope. And sometimes they just get quiet and stop shining.

That’s how I feel when I think about Judith Carter.

Her conflicting records make me wonder what was going on, and how she was learning to cope. With every record I found of her I felt less and less of “her” present. That’s not something I usually feel when I’m getting to know one of my ancestors.

There is such a huge discrepancy between some of her records that I have to wonder what the real story was? When she marries Stephen Moody apparently she’s 21, born in 1823. But years later, after Stephen is gone she marries William Cassell and declares that she was born in 1829, making her 15 when she married Stephen. Huh? Could have happened.

When her son, Henry dies in 1864, she’s either 41 or 35. I don’t know. Maybe this doesn’t add up to anything more than making an under-aged bride legit. Or….maybe she’s the only one who really knew the truth. Maybe she hid her age from Stephen, too. But by the time William, her second husband comes along, she’s owning her real age. 37. Good for her!

I don’t know if her first marriage ended in divorce or abandonment. I’m pretty sure I found Stephen living and working in California. And as far as I know he’s roaming the Earth still. Maybe he and the marriage fell apart when Henry died? I can’t find a divorce record either.

I felt so rejuvenated when I found Judith’s second marriage record. I even clapped my hands and said,”Yay! She’s married! I found her!” But when I went to find her death record, one I’d been searching for with no luck because I had the wrong last name, I was quickly deflated.

Ten months. That’s all that they got. Most of it was probably full of pain. Her daughter Estella Moody, was only 18-years-old. I can’t imagine the anguish, thinking of leaving her daughter without parents, and probably with a virtual stranger as the inevitable sunk in. I have yet to find her between her mother’s death and her marriage to my 2nd great-grandfather, Thomas H. Kelley.

I’m moved by Judith. It’s so easy to let life silence you. It’s sad that we give our joy away and stop shining. I really want to shake her and make her tell me who she was and how she felt. Was she angry or afraid? Depressed? Sad and alone? Or was she just tired? Perhaps she was one of those rare few whose quiet world is full of joy and gratitude unexpressed.

She’s not talking today. But I suppose she doesn’t trust me yet. Maybe we’ll have to play a little longer!

Family History Sunday Series 1:4 Don’t Do Your Family History Like My Six-Year-Old Mows the Lawn!

Image website: nrgspot.com

 

[The quality of the audio is getting worse! Sorry and thanks for listening!]