I hope.
Last week I did a bit of genealogy-related stuff and I spent most of this weekend doing genealogy stuff.
Yesterday I attended the Fairfax Genealogical Society’s Fall Fair on the subject of Military Records, with three presentations delivered by Craig Scott: “Researching Your Colonial and French and Indian War Ancestor,” “Researching Your War of 1812 Ancestor,” and “Reasons for Not Serving in the Civil War.” There were lots of places, dates, maps, resources, and funny stories. It was glorious.
Today I spent half a day researching the George Robert Brinlee family. It is great to be “back in the saddle.” I feel relaxed and relieved.
I’m not all done with chores. 3-4 people and 3 cats still manage to shed a lot of hair and fur and track in a lot of dirt. And two family members are still packrats. And we haven’t really finished our yard cleanup.
But I know where to find stuff now. And I’m putting documents away - in the right place - after I create or use them. It’s like being on a diet. Discipline must be maintained.
Yesterday I read a post on Jennifer’s Rainy Day Genealogy Readings: “Defining Research, Part 1.” A real case study in genealogical bad manners, if not outright plagiarism. Things like this are one of the reasons why I use my own template (different from Ancestry’s) for place names. That way I can see who is “clicking and claiming” my data. I don’t really mind that they do. But posting information someone has freely shared with you without crediting them, as described in this post, is shoddy and low-class.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
I Found You
I knew when I found my great-grandfather Harlston Perrin Moore.
It happened about five or six weeks after I first became intrigued about what I could find online on my ancestors. Until that point, I just barely knew the names of my grandparents; I knew nothing else about my ancestors except for a couple of comments and stories I had heard from my parents.
There was no death of a close relative to jar/inspire/scare me into considering family research. As a matter of fact, both of my parents and all but one of my aunts and uncles had already passed away. Not even that sad fact could force me to realize how important it was to learn about my family’s history. Though I do love the “detective experience” rush, it was the shock of the close personal connection I felt that cemented the deal. The “find” was a burst of fireworks, but the relationship was no less intense for being long-lasting. If you think that this sounds like falling in love, it was a little bit like that.
It wasn’t just putting cousin bait out there that prompted me to start blogging about genealogy; it was that I just had to share this incredible experience with others who understood, really understood, what it feels like to find a previously unknown ancestor. And when Lynn Palermo issued the challenge (“The Moment You Knew”) at The Armchair Genealogist to identify the moment when I knew that I had to research my family history, I had to respond (despite the fact that I have written about this before in “The Happy Dance: Getting Hooked on Genealogy”).
The odd thing was, the experience was more intense for some ancestors than others. Other genea-bloggers have written about this phenomenon. In my experience, it was not necessarily that I identified more with some ancestors than with others. It was that I felt a particular claim to an ancestor because I had “found” that ancestor - found in the sense that none of the relatives I knew while I was growing up knew this ancestor, and any distant cousins who did know of this ancestor’s existence did not know of his or her connection to my family. If I did find a known ancestor but learned new information, then I felt that much closer. And I feel close to my “dead-end branch” ancestors as well, because I intend to find their families.
From the brief flush of discovery to the more sustained feeling of connection, the experience continues to be the lure that will keep me looking for ancestors until my fingers are too arthritic to type, my eyes are to clouded to make out those old documents, and my mind is too mushy to put the genealogical evidence together.
It happened about five or six weeks after I first became intrigued about what I could find online on my ancestors. Until that point, I just barely knew the names of my grandparents; I knew nothing else about my ancestors except for a couple of comments and stories I had heard from my parents.
There was no death of a close relative to jar/inspire/scare me into considering family research. As a matter of fact, both of my parents and all but one of my aunts and uncles had already passed away. Not even that sad fact could force me to realize how important it was to learn about my family’s history. Though I do love the “detective experience” rush, it was the shock of the close personal connection I felt that cemented the deal. The “find” was a burst of fireworks, but the relationship was no less intense for being long-lasting. If you think that this sounds like falling in love, it was a little bit like that.
It wasn’t just putting cousin bait out there that prompted me to start blogging about genealogy; it was that I just had to share this incredible experience with others who understood, really understood, what it feels like to find a previously unknown ancestor. And when Lynn Palermo issued the challenge (“The Moment You Knew”) at The Armchair Genealogist to identify the moment when I knew that I had to research my family history, I had to respond (despite the fact that I have written about this before in “The Happy Dance: Getting Hooked on Genealogy”).
The odd thing was, the experience was more intense for some ancestors than others. Other genea-bloggers have written about this phenomenon. In my experience, it was not necessarily that I identified more with some ancestors than with others. It was that I felt a particular claim to an ancestor because I had “found” that ancestor - found in the sense that none of the relatives I knew while I was growing up knew this ancestor, and any distant cousins who did know of this ancestor’s existence did not know of his or her connection to my family. If I did find a known ancestor but learned new information, then I felt that much closer. And I feel close to my “dead-end branch” ancestors as well, because I intend to find their families.
From the brief flush of discovery to the more sustained feeling of connection, the experience continues to be the lure that will keep me looking for ancestors until my fingers are too arthritic to type, my eyes are to clouded to make out those old documents, and my mind is too mushy to put the genealogical evidence together.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Clean Your Way to a Better Life
The Scrappy Genealogist’s announcement on Friday that she will be featuring guest posts from different geneamommybloggers this week (“How She Does It - Secrets from the Geneamommybloggers”) has inspired me to share my recent experience in trying to organize my house and simplify my life to clear the way for the things I really want to do, especially family research and blogging about my research.
My daughters are young adults now (18 and 21), so I have survived the super-intense earlier phases of raising children. I now have a bit more time to do things like read, research, and write (when work isn’t so insane that my workdays run long and leave me too exhausted to do anything that takes a brain cell or two).
And yet even before work started to demand more and more of me, I noticed that my productivity in the area of family research was falling. I realized that the main culprit was the messy accumulation of clutter, compounded by a few other things that gobbled up a lot of time.
My solution involved about a dozen elements:
1. Throw out a lot of stuff.
2. Give a lot of stuff away.
3. Identify, locate, centralize, and organize your most precious heirlooms, family documents, and physical and electronic research documents and records.
4. Figure out a system for holding/storing anything you have a lot of (books, CDs, etc.). Buy whatever shelves, boxes, storage bins you need to accommodate them.
5. Throw out some more stuff.
6. Cut down on purchases, especially those that add unnecessary “stuff” to your household. This also means fewer birthday, Christmas, and special occasion gifts.
7. Figure out what items can be replaced by their electronic equivalents. My family and I are not terribly good at this, and my husband and I in particular are attached to the physical forms of many things (= books and CDs). However, my daughters are getting e-readers for Christmas and I am getting an iPad. We figure that most of our fiction reading and some of our nonfiction/research reading can be handled on these platforms. I would like to reduce the number of DVDs we buy, since so much can be viewed online. There is still some ethnic/esoteric music that I order in CD form, but these days there is a lot more of my “weird” music on iTunes than there used to be.
8. Give away some more stuff.
9. Identify and eliminate unnecessary and time-consuming chores. For me this year this will be writing the annual Christmas letter. As a genealogist, I know that Christmas letters can be goldmines of family information, but I am just tired of writing them. It started out as a way to save time, because I was individualizing each card for each recipient to the point that it was an exhausting undertaking. But you know what? Now I have a blog, use Facebook and Google Plus, and am always happy to correspond by e-mail. With a great deal of regret, I also discontinued my Follow Friday posts.
10. Clean house, clean out and organize your closets and junk drawers, and scrub and dust off those remote corners, high shelves, and other places you rarely visit to clean. It’s a pain, but it should take care of dust moozy/dust mite havens for another year or two. Clean out the fridge and clear the shelves of old food (you know you’ve got stuff that expired in 2008 in there).
11. If you have the time, energy, and money to do so, take care of any other matters that are a drag on your energy if you leave them undone: clean up your finances and financial records, get minor household repairs done, get the car fixed and cleaned, schedule medical appointments you have been putting off.
12. Clean up the yard, or at least take care of the worst eyesores: mow, pick up twigs and sticks, pick the worst weeds.
This is what I (and my husband and even occasionally my daughters) have been doing for the last two months. I am not listing all of these things to sound virtuous. If we had been more conscientious and better organized to begin with, things would not have reached such a critical state - to the point that I felt too paralyzed to effectively continue my research. I did not take a complete hiatus from blogging, but I definitely slowed down a bit.
Most important of all: Figure out what things are most important to you, and figure out how you can focus on them and include all of them. My priorities are:
Family life - spending home time with my family, going out to eat or see movies, and taking vacations together. This includes taking time to play and cuddle with our cats and actively participating in church. Keeping in touch with other family members, including cousins and “research cousins.”
Continuing to educate myself: in the area of languages (for my profession/vocation), in the area of genealogical research (for my hobby/avocation), and in the area of general knowledge (simply for personal development and enjoyment). Putting aside time to read and listen to music.
Family research. Getting my resources (including my bookmarks and Research Toolbox) in order. Continuing to get that cousin bait out there. Attending conferences. Taking research trips.
Gardening and feeding the birds in our yard.
That’s it. Pretty simple.
Now, after peeling off layer after layer of things accumulated after more than 20 years of being a family with children, I am just about ready to crawl out from under my rock and start some serious research.
My daughters are young adults now (18 and 21), so I have survived the super-intense earlier phases of raising children. I now have a bit more time to do things like read, research, and write (when work isn’t so insane that my workdays run long and leave me too exhausted to do anything that takes a brain cell or two).
And yet even before work started to demand more and more of me, I noticed that my productivity in the area of family research was falling. I realized that the main culprit was the messy accumulation of clutter, compounded by a few other things that gobbled up a lot of time.
My solution involved about a dozen elements:
1. Throw out a lot of stuff.
2. Give a lot of stuff away.
3. Identify, locate, centralize, and organize your most precious heirlooms, family documents, and physical and electronic research documents and records.
4. Figure out a system for holding/storing anything you have a lot of (books, CDs, etc.). Buy whatever shelves, boxes, storage bins you need to accommodate them.
5. Throw out some more stuff.
6. Cut down on purchases, especially those that add unnecessary “stuff” to your household. This also means fewer birthday, Christmas, and special occasion gifts.
7. Figure out what items can be replaced by their electronic equivalents. My family and I are not terribly good at this, and my husband and I in particular are attached to the physical forms of many things (= books and CDs). However, my daughters are getting e-readers for Christmas and I am getting an iPad. We figure that most of our fiction reading and some of our nonfiction/research reading can be handled on these platforms. I would like to reduce the number of DVDs we buy, since so much can be viewed online. There is still some ethnic/esoteric music that I order in CD form, but these days there is a lot more of my “weird” music on iTunes than there used to be.
8. Give away some more stuff.
9. Identify and eliminate unnecessary and time-consuming chores. For me this year this will be writing the annual Christmas letter. As a genealogist, I know that Christmas letters can be goldmines of family information, but I am just tired of writing them. It started out as a way to save time, because I was individualizing each card for each recipient to the point that it was an exhausting undertaking. But you know what? Now I have a blog, use Facebook and Google Plus, and am always happy to correspond by e-mail. With a great deal of regret, I also discontinued my Follow Friday posts.
10. Clean house, clean out and organize your closets and junk drawers, and scrub and dust off those remote corners, high shelves, and other places you rarely visit to clean. It’s a pain, but it should take care of dust moozy/dust mite havens for another year or two. Clean out the fridge and clear the shelves of old food (you know you’ve got stuff that expired in 2008 in there).
11. If you have the time, energy, and money to do so, take care of any other matters that are a drag on your energy if you leave them undone: clean up your finances and financial records, get minor household repairs done, get the car fixed and cleaned, schedule medical appointments you have been putting off.
12. Clean up the yard, or at least take care of the worst eyesores: mow, pick up twigs and sticks, pick the worst weeds.
This is what I (and my husband and even occasionally my daughters) have been doing for the last two months. I am not listing all of these things to sound virtuous. If we had been more conscientious and better organized to begin with, things would not have reached such a critical state - to the point that I felt too paralyzed to effectively continue my research. I did not take a complete hiatus from blogging, but I definitely slowed down a bit.
Most important of all: Figure out what things are most important to you, and figure out how you can focus on them and include all of them. My priorities are:
Family life - spending home time with my family, going out to eat or see movies, and taking vacations together. This includes taking time to play and cuddle with our cats and actively participating in church. Keeping in touch with other family members, including cousins and “research cousins.”
Continuing to educate myself: in the area of languages (for my profession/vocation), in the area of genealogical research (for my hobby/avocation), and in the area of general knowledge (simply for personal development and enjoyment). Putting aside time to read and listen to music.
Family research. Getting my resources (including my bookmarks and Research Toolbox) in order. Continuing to get that cousin bait out there. Attending conferences. Taking research trips.
Gardening and feeding the birds in our yard.
That’s it. Pretty simple.
Now, after peeling off layer after layer of things accumulated after more than 20 years of being a family with children, I am just about ready to crawl out from under my rock and start some serious research.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Whatever Wednesday: 5 October 2011
Strolling down memory lane can be a risky undertaking. Of course, I did not know that I would be taking that stroll when I decided last weekend that it was finally time to quit procrastinating and tackle the attic. It was one of the biggest and most dreaded chapters in the Great Cleaning Frenzy book.
Going through my daughters’ baby clothes and old books was not too traumatic. I found a couple of dresses that I realized were not central to my memories of their childhood, and they went into the Good Will pile. I did not have to endure the agony of sorting out the schoolwork and artwork of their early years; that had already been taken care of in the Great Cleaning Frenzy of 1999, and every year thereafter we would sift out “the best of the best” at the end of the school year and haul it up into the attic for storage.
As a matter of fact, when I first went up into the attic, I was surprised at how neat and organized all the boxes looked. Sure, everything was pretty dusty, but all I had to do was open each box or bin, figure out whether the contents included anything that was no longer of practical use or a vessel of cherished memories, and sort out items to be given away or thrown out. Even old children’s books were an easy job, as I had resolved beforehand to use a light hand, only culling out books that stirred no smiles or memories.
By the time I had finished with the last box, there were sizable piles of trash and giveaways.
Only the little closet next to the chimney stack wall remained. There wasn’t much in it; other than half of a Nativity set and a barbed wire Christmas wreath (it’s a Texas thing), just some old mementos from some of our vacations and old Christmas cards, all dating to the last century.
I pulled out several bags, and found a bit of chewing damage from squirrels, who periodically invade our attic, get evicted by the exterminator, and several months or years later find a way to sneak back in. Only a couple of papers got chewed. Good. I started to sort through the ragged and dusty bags full of cards, brochures, maps, and schedules. Our honeymoon and major vacations each got separate piles, Christmas cards seemed to have been divided roughly by year, and miscellaneous small trips formed a final pile. Out of that pile I picked up a folded brochure for New York City:
“No matter who you are, you can be on top of the world at the World Trade Center.”
It must have been around 1991, when my husband and I took Daughter #1, then about 18 months old, into Manhattan to visit FAO Schwartz. On the way back we decided on the spur of the moment to go to the top of one of the WTC towers. We had forgotten our camera, so we picked up the brochure, which featured a classic New York skyline picture centered on the Twin Towers. Ten years later, the towers were gone. And ten years after that, I unexpectedly came across this painful reminder.
Another pile of mementos yielded a letter from a friend who has since left us, thanking us for providing moral support during a difficult time. Another bittersweet memory.
And more: Christmas cards from a beloved babysitter, a neighbor my husband grew up calling “Aunt Sarah,” dear aunts and uncles who supported me with love and faith - all gone now.
So much loss brought back so suddenly, jarringly, in just one short trip to the attic.
I placed each pile in a separate envelope and put the envelopes in a covered bin, passed down the bag of trash, climbed down the ladder from the attic, and took a shower to wash the dust off.
I am getting close to winding up the Great Cleaning Frenzy. Daughter #2 comes home tomorrow for a few days; there are some sorting chores for which I need her judgment and input. Soon after that, I hope, I will be back to research and (regular) blogging.
Other bits
Monday, while I was watching Part One of Ken Burns’ series Prohibition, I recognized some clips taken from the 1906 SF film “A Trip Down Market Street” that FootnoteMaven featured on Shades of the Departed.
One of my favorite recent blog posts: “Mistakes Are Made (but Using the Passive Isn’t One of them)” by Geoffrey Pullam on the blog Lingua Franca on The Chronicle of Higher Education website. There is a link within the post to his original article on the subject, “50 Years of Stupid Grammar Advice.” I still have copies of that article at work and at home.
Going through my daughters’ baby clothes and old books was not too traumatic. I found a couple of dresses that I realized were not central to my memories of their childhood, and they went into the Good Will pile. I did not have to endure the agony of sorting out the schoolwork and artwork of their early years; that had already been taken care of in the Great Cleaning Frenzy of 1999, and every year thereafter we would sift out “the best of the best” at the end of the school year and haul it up into the attic for storage.
As a matter of fact, when I first went up into the attic, I was surprised at how neat and organized all the boxes looked. Sure, everything was pretty dusty, but all I had to do was open each box or bin, figure out whether the contents included anything that was no longer of practical use or a vessel of cherished memories, and sort out items to be given away or thrown out. Even old children’s books were an easy job, as I had resolved beforehand to use a light hand, only culling out books that stirred no smiles or memories.
By the time I had finished with the last box, there were sizable piles of trash and giveaways.
Only the little closet next to the chimney stack wall remained. There wasn’t much in it; other than half of a Nativity set and a barbed wire Christmas wreath (it’s a Texas thing), just some old mementos from some of our vacations and old Christmas cards, all dating to the last century.
I pulled out several bags, and found a bit of chewing damage from squirrels, who periodically invade our attic, get evicted by the exterminator, and several months or years later find a way to sneak back in. Only a couple of papers got chewed. Good. I started to sort through the ragged and dusty bags full of cards, brochures, maps, and schedules. Our honeymoon and major vacations each got separate piles, Christmas cards seemed to have been divided roughly by year, and miscellaneous small trips formed a final pile. Out of that pile I picked up a folded brochure for New York City:
“No matter who you are, you can be on top of the world at the World Trade Center.”
It must have been around 1991, when my husband and I took Daughter #1, then about 18 months old, into Manhattan to visit FAO Schwartz. On the way back we decided on the spur of the moment to go to the top of one of the WTC towers. We had forgotten our camera, so we picked up the brochure, which featured a classic New York skyline picture centered on the Twin Towers. Ten years later, the towers were gone. And ten years after that, I unexpectedly came across this painful reminder.
Another pile of mementos yielded a letter from a friend who has since left us, thanking us for providing moral support during a difficult time. Another bittersweet memory.
And more: Christmas cards from a beloved babysitter, a neighbor my husband grew up calling “Aunt Sarah,” dear aunts and uncles who supported me with love and faith - all gone now.
So much loss brought back so suddenly, jarringly, in just one short trip to the attic.
I placed each pile in a separate envelope and put the envelopes in a covered bin, passed down the bag of trash, climbed down the ladder from the attic, and took a shower to wash the dust off.
I am getting close to winding up the Great Cleaning Frenzy. Daughter #2 comes home tomorrow for a few days; there are some sorting chores for which I need her judgment and input. Soon after that, I hope, I will be back to research and (regular) blogging.
Other bits
Monday, while I was watching Part One of Ken Burns’ series Prohibition, I recognized some clips taken from the 1906 SF film “A Trip Down Market Street” that FootnoteMaven featured on Shades of the Departed.
One of my favorite recent blog posts: “Mistakes Are Made (but Using the Passive Isn’t One of them)” by Geoffrey Pullam on the blog Lingua Franca on The Chronicle of Higher Education website. There is a link within the post to his original article on the subject, “50 Years of Stupid Grammar Advice.” I still have copies of that article at work and at home.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The Family Tree
The tree that best exemplifies my family research is the holly tree. No, make that THE holly tree. Not just any holly tree, but the holly tree in my front yard.
We have a much larger and more beautiful holly tree in the back yard. But it’s missing something.
No, that’s not right. The big holly tree is NOT missing anything. And that’s why it doesn’t bear much of a resemblance to my family tree as my research reveals it - because there are lots of gaps in my research.
So the poor holly tree out front is the more apt symbol. The winter before last, during Snowmageddon, the weight of the snow caused one of the three main branches to break off so that one side was left almost completely bare. It looks a bit better now, as though some of the twigs and small branches on the other two sides are trying to bend around and cover the bare branches out of modesty.
But it’s still a lopsided tree, and so is my family tree.
The brick walls are awfully low in my family tree; there are a few really long branches, but for for many lines, “growth” stops with pretty recent ancestors. We’re not supposed to call them “brick walls,” so let’s call them “dead-end branches.”
My biggest dead-end branch is my great-grandmother Susan Elizabeth Smith Bonner Brinlee. I also have four great-great-grandparents who are dead-ends: Hiram Brinlee Senior, Emily Tarrant, George Floyd, and Jerusha Elizabeth Neely. And by the great-great-great-grandparent level, there are two more of those little stub thingies: Samuel Moore and John Finley.
This post turns out to be not just an excuse for milking the tree metaphor for all it’s worth. The listing of dead-end branches is basically an outline for where I want to focus my research. The only family missing in this list are the Lewises. I know my gggg-grandparents in this line - William Lewis and Mary John - but I am more interested in figuring out the list of children of my great-great-great grandparents Elisha Lewis and Rosannah Dalrymple Lewis, as well as the fates of the daughters of William and Mary Lewis: Rachel, Sarah, Mary, and Leah Lewis. You could say that this is a long but skinny branch.
Add a few intriguing gggg-grandparents into the mix, and that’s my research plan for the coming years. With names like Smith, Moore, and Lewis prominent in this list, this is not going to be a piece of cake. Or, to put it in more arboreal terms, it’s going to take one heck of a green thumb to get this tree to grow right. Ever tried to prune a holly tree or clean up the holly leaves that collect on the ground? Those pointy little leaves can be really nasty. But I won’t get discouraged. I want a tall, magnificent tree, covered with a thick mantle of dark green leaves. And lots of those little red berries would be nice, too.
Submitted for the 110th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy, sponsored by Jasia’s Creative Gene.
We have a much larger and more beautiful holly tree in the back yard. But it’s missing something.
No, that’s not right. The big holly tree is NOT missing anything. And that’s why it doesn’t bear much of a resemblance to my family tree as my research reveals it - because there are lots of gaps in my research.
So the poor holly tree out front is the more apt symbol. The winter before last, during Snowmageddon, the weight of the snow caused one of the three main branches to break off so that one side was left almost completely bare. It looks a bit better now, as though some of the twigs and small branches on the other two sides are trying to bend around and cover the bare branches out of modesty.
But it’s still a lopsided tree, and so is my family tree.
The Front Holly Tree, minus one branch which is flopped over and covered with snow, bottom right
The brick walls are awfully low in my family tree; there are a few really long branches, but for for many lines, “growth” stops with pretty recent ancestors. We’re not supposed to call them “brick walls,” so let’s call them “dead-end branches.”
My biggest dead-end branch is my great-grandmother Susan Elizabeth Smith Bonner Brinlee. I also have four great-great-grandparents who are dead-ends: Hiram Brinlee Senior, Emily Tarrant, George Floyd, and Jerusha Elizabeth Neely. And by the great-great-great-grandparent level, there are two more of those little stub thingies: Samuel Moore and John Finley.
This post turns out to be not just an excuse for milking the tree metaphor for all it’s worth. The listing of dead-end branches is basically an outline for where I want to focus my research. The only family missing in this list are the Lewises. I know my gggg-grandparents in this line - William Lewis and Mary John - but I am more interested in figuring out the list of children of my great-great-great grandparents Elisha Lewis and Rosannah Dalrymple Lewis, as well as the fates of the daughters of William and Mary Lewis: Rachel, Sarah, Mary, and Leah Lewis. You could say that this is a long but skinny branch.
Add a few intriguing gggg-grandparents into the mix, and that’s my research plan for the coming years. With names like Smith, Moore, and Lewis prominent in this list, this is not going to be a piece of cake. Or, to put it in more arboreal terms, it’s going to take one heck of a green thumb to get this tree to grow right. Ever tried to prune a holly tree or clean up the holly leaves that collect on the ground? Those pointy little leaves can be really nasty. But I won’t get discouraged. I want a tall, magnificent tree, covered with a thick mantle of dark green leaves. And lots of those little red berries would be nice, too.
The Lopsided Holly Tree as it appears today
Submitted for the 110th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy, sponsored by Jasia’s Creative Gene.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Fan Friday: Google Alerts and Annie's Ghosts
Google alerts rock.
No, I did not receive a Google Alert on one of my ancestors.
But Steve Luxenberg, author of Annie’s Ghosts who delivered a wonderful and informative presentation last night at the monthly meeting of the Fairfax Genealogical Society, did get a Google Alert from my blog. He told me so when I went up to buy a copy of his book and get it signed by him. So I did anything a serious genealogy research and blogger would do: I gushed like a fan.
There was plenty to gush about. We had a full house and you could really sense the interest during the lecture and the excitement about meeting the author afterwards. For those few of you who have not yet read the book (I was going to wait until Christmas, when I am hoping to get an iPad, to buy the book, but couldn’t wait - I had forgotten to go to the ATM and only had $13 - the exact price of the paperback - so fate meant for me to buy it), I won’t spoil it for you, but I can say that Steve included some things that are not in the book and also had some good information on getting disability records from the VA, possible avenues for obtaining medical records, and getting information on an ancestor from post-1930 censuses.
So, back to Google Alerts. They obviously work. I set up Google Alerts a few months ago but have not received a single one.
Google Alerts, you are on notice:
Harlston Perrin Moore.
I had better be receiving an Alert on him. Soon.
No, I did not receive a Google Alert on one of my ancestors.
But Steve Luxenberg, author of Annie’s Ghosts who delivered a wonderful and informative presentation last night at the monthly meeting of the Fairfax Genealogical Society, did get a Google Alert from my blog. He told me so when I went up to buy a copy of his book and get it signed by him. So I did anything a serious genealogy research and blogger would do: I gushed like a fan.
There was plenty to gush about. We had a full house and you could really sense the interest during the lecture and the excitement about meeting the author afterwards. For those few of you who have not yet read the book (I was going to wait until Christmas, when I am hoping to get an iPad, to buy the book, but couldn’t wait - I had forgotten to go to the ATM and only had $13 - the exact price of the paperback - so fate meant for me to buy it), I won’t spoil it for you, but I can say that Steve included some things that are not in the book and also had some good information on getting disability records from the VA, possible avenues for obtaining medical records, and getting information on an ancestor from post-1930 censuses.
So, back to Google Alerts. They obviously work. I set up Google Alerts a few months ago but have not received a single one.
Google Alerts, you are on notice:
Harlston Perrin Moore.
I had better be receiving an Alert on him. Soon.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Whatever Wednesday: 21 September 2011
The usual occupant of this space, What I Learned Wednesday, can’t be here today.
Because I haven’t learned anything - because I haven’t done any research this week.
But this is not necessarily a bad thing. The Big Cleanup and Organization Project has been leaving me physically tired but mentally energized. And I am getting in better and better “mental health shape” for research and learning.
Tomorrow I WILL learn something, because Steve Luxenberg, author of Annie’s Ghosts, will be speaking at Fairfax Genealogical Society’s September meeting.
Woohoo!
Here is the blurb from the FxGS newsletter:
“When a family secret alters our understanding of the family tree - such as learning about a hidden relative, marriage, divorce or cause of death - where do we begin to unravel what had always been kept out of sight? This presentation shows how to make the journey, and how one secret can lead to others. Mr. Luxenburg traveled through burial records, birth certificates, hospital records, immigration documents, and wartime records from diverse locations - imperial Russia, Depression-era Detroit, the Philippines, and European war zones - and assembles them into a coherent paper trail.”
Because I haven’t learned anything - because I haven’t done any research this week.
But this is not necessarily a bad thing. The Big Cleanup and Organization Project has been leaving me physically tired but mentally energized. And I am getting in better and better “mental health shape” for research and learning.
Tomorrow I WILL learn something, because Steve Luxenberg, author of Annie’s Ghosts, will be speaking at Fairfax Genealogical Society’s September meeting.
Woohoo!
“Genealogy from the Inside Out: Tracing a Family Secret from a Single Clue”
by Steve Luxenberg
7:30 p.m., Thursday, September 22
Kilmer Middle School
Here is the blurb from the FxGS newsletter:
“When a family secret alters our understanding of the family tree - such as learning about a hidden relative, marriage, divorce or cause of death - where do we begin to unravel what had always been kept out of sight? This presentation shows how to make the journey, and how one secret can lead to others. Mr. Luxenburg traveled through burial records, birth certificates, hospital records, immigration documents, and wartime records from diverse locations - imperial Russia, Depression-era Detroit, the Philippines, and European war zones - and assembles them into a coherent paper trail.”
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
A Proper Place for Sentiment
“Your Ukrainian book is in the freezer.”
Thus began an e-mail I wrote to my daughter at college last Friday following the deluge that left 26 inches of water in our basement.
Accidents, disasters, and near brushes tend to occur in threes, in my exerience - and the last one is usually the doozy. Recent events have been true to form: an earthquake, a hurricane, and a big honking rainstorm, with only the last one causing us any damage.
Really, we were lucky in all three cases. The only damage that caused me any grief was the soaking of my daughter’s documents and coursework from the various Russian courses and programs she has participated in. Over seven years of hard work, fun, and memories, all crammed into a plastic box with a lid that unfortunately did not stay put after being dumped into the water.
I spent the next few days, with few breaks, freezing the Ukrainian book and a spiral notebook, drying out other bound items, and lightly drying and xeroxing all of the loose sheets of paper - notes, tests, articles, and so forth. More than a ream of paper went into the effort. I dutifully tromped back and forth between the copier and the laundry room, as we were also washing and drying out soaked clothes and stuffed dolls and animals.
The episode both interrupted and expedited our campaign to clean house and get rid of all the stuff we don’t need.
I suppose my two-day drying and copying marathon was motivated by a good measure of sentiment - these materials represent a major investment of effort by my daughter as well as an important part of her life - but it was also based on more practical considerations, because many of the items are still useful for reference. Heck, I was even able to engage in a little bit of grammar and vocabulary review as I copied some of the more advanced materials.
But the rescue operation probably also washed away any excess sentimentality as far as the contents of our basement were concerned. Exhaustion will do that.
We also realized that the less stuff we keep in the basement, the more latitude we will have to arrange the remaining items to make them less vulnerable to natural disasters. The benchmark was set: life’s work + memories = important; other bits = not.
So throwing stuff out or giving it away became a positive pleasure.
Expeditious and felicitous disposal of items felt like triumphs: lightly used arts and craft sets found a home with our church’s Sunday school program; extra (now very clean) litterboxes will go to our petsitter, who actively supports stray rescue and pet adoption programs; and soaked potting soil now enriches an underperforming garden bed.
We are the rulers of recycling, the sovereigns of salvage, the masters of the makeover and make-do.
Meanwhile, after some conferring with both daughters, the truly beloved objects of their childhood stay: a kit of plastic medical instruments inside a Little Tykes pet carrier, two toy xylophones that still make music, and the awesomest collection of tiny little people and animals (Playmobil, Polly Pockets, and Pound Pets).
I did feel pangs when the girls’ impressive collection of plastic food and the last child-sized chair went out the door. On the other hand, the sight of the luggage my husband and I bought for our honeymoon in Scotland that is now leaning against the trash can out front inspires memories but not regret.
This process is not free of uncertainty and trepidation. What if I wake up in the middle of the night and realize that it was a mistake to give away my younger daughter’s go-go boots?
The circle of things that should come within sentiment’s protective and possessive embrace should not be so small that scant evidence remains of the lives we live, nor should it be so large that the items have no meaning. Determining the proper balance is not easy, but having a flood wash away a lot of flotsam and jetsam helps.
Thus began an e-mail I wrote to my daughter at college last Friday following the deluge that left 26 inches of water in our basement.
Accidents, disasters, and near brushes tend to occur in threes, in my exerience - and the last one is usually the doozy. Recent events have been true to form: an earthquake, a hurricane, and a big honking rainstorm, with only the last one causing us any damage.
Really, we were lucky in all three cases. The only damage that caused me any grief was the soaking of my daughter’s documents and coursework from the various Russian courses and programs she has participated in. Over seven years of hard work, fun, and memories, all crammed into a plastic box with a lid that unfortunately did not stay put after being dumped into the water.
I spent the next few days, with few breaks, freezing the Ukrainian book and a spiral notebook, drying out other bound items, and lightly drying and xeroxing all of the loose sheets of paper - notes, tests, articles, and so forth. More than a ream of paper went into the effort. I dutifully tromped back and forth between the copier and the laundry room, as we were also washing and drying out soaked clothes and stuffed dolls and animals.
The Sorcerer’s Apprentice finds wet papers...
and more wet papers...
and still more wet papers
The episode both interrupted and expedited our campaign to clean house and get rid of all the stuff we don’t need.
I suppose my two-day drying and copying marathon was motivated by a good measure of sentiment - these materials represent a major investment of effort by my daughter as well as an important part of her life - but it was also based on more practical considerations, because many of the items are still useful for reference. Heck, I was even able to engage in a little bit of grammar and vocabulary review as I copied some of the more advanced materials.
But the rescue operation probably also washed away any excess sentimentality as far as the contents of our basement were concerned. Exhaustion will do that.
We also realized that the less stuff we keep in the basement, the more latitude we will have to arrange the remaining items to make them less vulnerable to natural disasters. The benchmark was set: life’s work + memories = important; other bits = not.
A much improved basement
So throwing stuff out or giving it away became a positive pleasure.
Expeditious and felicitous disposal of items felt like triumphs: lightly used arts and craft sets found a home with our church’s Sunday school program; extra (now very clean) litterboxes will go to our petsitter, who actively supports stray rescue and pet adoption programs; and soaked potting soil now enriches an underperforming garden bed.
We are the rulers of recycling, the sovereigns of salvage, the masters of the makeover and make-do.
Meanwhile, after some conferring with both daughters, the truly beloved objects of their childhood stay: a kit of plastic medical instruments inside a Little Tykes pet carrier, two toy xylophones that still make music, and the awesomest collection of tiny little people and animals (Playmobil, Polly Pockets, and Pound Pets).
I did feel pangs when the girls’ impressive collection of plastic food and the last child-sized chair went out the door. On the other hand, the sight of the luggage my husband and I bought for our honeymoon in Scotland that is now leaning against the trash can out front inspires memories but not regret.
This process is not free of uncertainty and trepidation. What if I wake up in the middle of the night and realize that it was a mistake to give away my younger daughter’s go-go boots?
The circle of things that should come within sentiment’s protective and possessive embrace should not be so small that scant evidence remains of the lives we live, nor should it be so large that the items have no meaning. Determining the proper balance is not easy, but having a flood wash away a lot of flotsam and jetsam helps.
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