Sunday, November 09, 2003
I've been doing family history for over 20 years, pushed into the hobby after reading Alex Haley's Roots. At that time I was a teenager and my grandmother provided me with information. Later I learned to write away for copies of documents. Lately I have been able to sit at home and look at census records, newspapers, and other documents online. Or go to the local LDS Family History Library and order microfilm from around the world.
Two reasons for this interest. One is the process, the detective skills, the problem solving. How do I prove so-and-so is related to the so's-and-so's? The second is the urge to reconstruct the lives of forgotten people, to piece together random fragments and make a life reappear. As an example, when I started the lives of Ebenezer and Harriet, a pair of my great-great-great grandparents, had been reduced to a small handful of stories- he was a Civil War soldier, she had slept for a week on the grave of her youngest son after he had died in an accident. Through my research I have found the tragic letter Ebenezer wrote about this son's death, "He was the light of my life." Harriet's improbable story proved to be true, as told by another relative in an audiotape from the early 1970s. Some of the uncovered truths do not show the couple in the best light. But then nobody is perfect, something I well understand.
In other news, cut my thumb badly while slicing an onion. So couldn't do much today- no dishes or chores. It doesn't hurt much but looks pretty gross.
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Two reasons for this interest. One is the process, the detective skills, the problem solving. How do I prove so-and-so is related to the so's-and-so's? The second is the urge to reconstruct the lives of forgotten people, to piece together random fragments and make a life reappear. As an example, when I started the lives of Ebenezer and Harriet, a pair of my great-great-great grandparents, had been reduced to a small handful of stories- he was a Civil War soldier, she had slept for a week on the grave of her youngest son after he had died in an accident. Through my research I have found the tragic letter Ebenezer wrote about this son's death, "He was the light of my life." Harriet's improbable story proved to be true, as told by another relative in an audiotape from the early 1970s. Some of the uncovered truths do not show the couple in the best light. But then nobody is perfect, something I well understand.
In other news, cut my thumb badly while slicing an onion. So couldn't do much today- no dishes or chores. It doesn't hurt much but looks pretty gross.
