Sources and Citations — How T-Ball and Genealogy Are Sometimes Alike

I remember going to my youngest son's first T-ball game. All that compressed little boy energy hung over the field like a gray cumulonimbus cloud getting ready to burst. The coach positioned each child on the field and they were prepared, that ball WASN'T going to get past them. The first batter swung, connected and a dozen gloved wonders took off in pursuit of the ball. Two of the “teammates,” the quickest to arrive at the spot where the ball eventually rolled to a rest, tussled with each other to take control over the precious trophy. All the while, the batter, flushed with success at having batted his first ball, in his first game, easily ran the bases. 

Coaches gestured wildly, fathers screamed, “Throw the ball, throw the ball,” older siblings smirked, and mothers beamed with lopsided smiles at their misguided offspring. The problem wasn't, of course, a lack of enthusiasm or commitment on the part of the young players. The problem was they had yet to learn the fundamentals that would allow them to play the game the way it was meant to be played — baseball at its best is its own form of poetry.

The same could be said of my first experiences in genealogy. I had the enthusiasm. I had the commitment, but I hadn't yet learned the fundamentals that would allow me to do the research and the recording of information in the way it was meant to be done. I realized early on the value of recording where the information came from. Without documenting the source of the information, it was hard to go back and determine how or why I had added an individual to my family tree. So I added this information to the note section of each individual. 

At some point, it dawned on me, AH HA, there was a section of the software made expressly for this purpose, and I began, I'll admit, to put the information haphazardly into the appropriate section. Sometime after that, I realized that there was no consistency in how I was entering the information. I dug out my old APA style guide, and struggled to use the information I found there to come up with some kind of standard. By this time I HAD A MESS!

I did some online searching, and found several articles on the subject. Each time I thought I had it figured out, a new problem would arise. For example, the death certificate I received in the mail and the one I found online, should they be recorded in the same manner? 

As each new online source became available, I became uncertain what appropriate form the citation should take. Enter Elizabeth Shown Mills's new book, “Evidence Explained: Citing History Sources from Artifacts to Cyberspace,” which tackles among other things, just this type of quandary. 

As of today, I have my very own copy of Ms. Mills' book to read and thumb through at my own leisure. I've only gotten as far as the Table of Contents and the Forward — already I'm impressed. She sums up the whole idea of the quest for evidence and the need to evaluate sources so eloquently: “History is not a collection of raw facts we simply look up and copy down. The past is still a little-known universe that we explore with curiosity and confusion. As we probe its depths, we appreciate resources that save us time. We crave materials we can confidently trust.” 

So simple, so beautiful, so true! So take note, family and friends, I will be holed up for a while devouring the author's thoughts, words and most of all, guidance so that my database will finally be exactly what it was meant to be. 

Until Next Time — Happy Ancestral Digging! Note: If you would like to learn more about “Evidence Explained,” Miriam Midkiff of “AnceStories” did a nice review at http://ancestories1.blogspot.com/2007/12/evidence-explained-book-review.html. 

Note this post first published online, January 17 , 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 17 January 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

My Grandmother, Anna

58 — That's the number of facets found on a round, full diamond. The glittering sparkle that you associate with diamonds comes from these flat polished surfaces. No matter which way you look at the diamond, no matter what the distance, or the angle, you cannot see all the facets from one single view. Some of the facets always remain hidden from your sight.

People then, are a lot like diamonds. No one person can ever view all the facets of another.

Grandma was a petite, feisty woman. I cannot imagine that there was ever a day, or even a moment when there was the least bit of ambiguity in my grandmother's life. She was always so certain of the correct thing to do in any circumstance, that it is hard for me to imagine her in any other way.

Grandma didn't hold conversations as much as she held inquisitions and intense conversions to Grandma's way of thinking. I remember once, when my children talked me into letting them adopt a homeless cat, that my daughter named Super, I was a little apprehensive of Grandma's reaction.

Grandma's opinion, “you should name the cat Fluffy.” And with that, the subject was closed, and for the rest of her life she referred to the cat as Fluffy, never mind what the cat's name actually was.

Grandma was a marvel in the kitchen. She canned all her own fruits and vegetables. Her mustard pickles, a concoction of pickles, lima beans, tomatoes, cauliflower, small onions and carrots swimming in a tangy mustard sauce, can still make my mouth water at the mere thought. And she made bread and butter pickles that no factory made rendition can come close to approximating.

But where Grandma really shined was in her baking. And here is where you will find a divergence in opinion about exactly what Grandma baked the best. My dad would say cherry pie or chocolate cake. My children's favorite would be any cookie Grandma brought to our door. My own vote goes to her chocolate marshmallow cookies. Say, amen, and pass the plate.

Even when Grandma was diagnosed with diabetes, she continued baking her famous goodies, giving all to family and friends — I never heard her complain even once about the unfairness of it all. Grandma realized controlling her diet was a given, and for Grandma knowing a thing and doing a thing were synonymous. Had it been me, I would have hung up my baking apron for good, and told everybody to learn to bake their own, slamming the door hard in their faces.

Grandma had a mischievous sense of humor. She was always trying to trick my father into eating things she knew he wouldn't like. Dad's favorite kind of cake was chocolate, and on more then one occasion, she would show up bearing one of these fine cakes. The twinkle in her eyes, gave her away. Dad wouldn't know what little bonus was added to these fine offerings, but he knew when his mother was up to no good.

One time she added tomato soup, another mayonnaise, zucchini was also an added ingredient — my dad didn't take one bite. Me, I'm not nearly as picky and I would try each one — the zucchini and mayonnaise renditions earned thumbs up — the tomato soup one, not so good. But the most memorable of all was her sauerkraut cake.

It was a beautiful cake, gorgeous to behold, until you took the first few bites and ended up with stringy sauerkraut in your mouth. That one was definitely not a keeper. And dad smiled knowingly and refused her obvious ruse. It was OK with Grandma, there was always another time, another cake, another oddball ingredient waiting to fool my father.

As a child, Grandma had grown up in a German-speaking household, and hadn't learned English until she went to school. Born in 1911, she would have been starting school during World War I. I once asked her to speak German, and she told me she didn't remember. I asked if her parents ever talked about Germany. No, was her quick, end-of-conversation answer. Well, what did she think of Germany, I pressed on. And all she would say, shaking her head, “Oh that Kaiser.” And that was all I ever got out of Grandma on that subject.

My memories of my grandmother are many. She taught my children to play dominoes, proclaimed the color of a brilliant sunset, sky blue pink, and worried about her eldest granddaughter trying to raise three children on her own. Sometimes she exasperated, sometimes she invigorated, and always she stood firm on her views of the world. I miss that twinkle in her eye, her steady hand and even her disgusted shake of the head when she talked about the President, “that old Ree-gan,” as she called him.

Today, January 16 would have been her 97th birthday. Happy Birthday, Grandma. Your eldest granddaughter misses you.

Until Next Time ...

Note this post first published online, January 16, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 16 January 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa  L. Snyder 

A conversation with a 3-year-old

I'm pulling out a bottle of cranberry juice from my refrigerator to pour a glass for lunch. This is the first lunch that my Friday friend and I have had since mid-December. He's asking me what the bottle is, and I am telling him that it is cranberry juice and that grandpa thinks it's yucky. 

“Well dat not very nice of him,” the 3-year-old tells me.

Surprised, I laugh and agree, asking my young friend if he would like to have a taste of it. He considers it for only a second. “No, I already hab juice.” 

A clear definite no if ever there was one. Apparently, while he considers his grandfather's pronouncement on my juice not very nice, he also considers it very true. I missed the little guy!

Until Next Time ... Note this post first published online, January 15, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 15 January 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

An Unintentional Stirring of the Pot — My Response

Note: Terry Thornton of “Hill Country of Monroe County, Mississippi” did a blog post about my two-part essay on “Finding Grandpa's Grave.” His post, and by extension mine, hit a nerve with one of Terry's genealogical friends. The friend had “spent all weekend brooding over this topic.” Terry posted a wonderful and eloquent answer to his friend's intense response. In order to understand my own response you will want to read Terry's original post along with his comments at the following link: http://hillcountryofmonroecountry.blogspot.com/2008/01/putting-together-fractured-family.html. 

Terry sent me an FYI letting me know about his update. Having read what the friend had said, I went to bed last night with the friend's words and thoughts dancing in my head. This morning, I got up before work and wrote Terry a quick note with my thoughts. Terry has encouraged me to find a way to work this into a post. The following is a cleaned up, expanded version of what I first wrote — Terry:

I once worked in an office with a young friend who never had a headache. Being someone who has been tortured with headaches all of my life, never having a headache was difficult for me to fathom. My young friend would ask me to tell her what the headache felt like. She would say she wished for a headache just once, so she would know first hand how it felt. (Luckily, for her, we worked in an office and not a lumberyard. If a two-by-four had been handy, I might have felt the need to oblige her.) My friend, had no frame of reference, so no matter how hard I tried to describe a headache, the words would fall flat. I try to remember this whenever someone talks of things that I have no frame of reference for either. 

.My three siblings and I had very normal, very happy childhoods. So, while I would never be able to understand exactly the circumstances that caused Terry's friend to brood all weekend on this topic, as a fellow traveler on this road of life, I can be sympathetic and compassionate to his intense response. Both of my parents come from divorced homes.

 In my father's case, he is the first in four generations to complete the task of fatherhood. His great-grandfather had a leg amputated in the Civil War, and lived much of the rest of his life in continuous pain. He died when my father's grandfather was 14 or 15. My father's grandfather was 39 when he died — grandpa was only 6. (Grandpa had lost his mother 3 years earlier to consumption). And of course, for those of you who read this blog, you already know grandpa's story. 

I have always loved and admired my father, but it wasn't until I started delving into our family history that I realized what a quiet hero my dad is. How he figured out what it was to be a father, I will never completely understand though it didn't hurt that he married a wise woman. Dad not only figured it out, but he has done the job very well. Because of my dad and mother, my siblings and I had the best of childhoods. But, even with the best of childhoods, my siblings and I still each have flaws, still each have our own inner demons. It is the nature of life.

As I have said before, I believe there are evil individuals and I believe there are saints. Most of us live in the gray area between. Each of us does the best that we can, given the hand that we are dealt. Sometimes we make mistakes and sometimes we get it just right. Sometimes we soar and sometimes we crash, but most of the time we trudge — trudge, trudge, trudge. Without applause and only the occasional sympathetic hand, there is something almost noble in the way human beings keep putting one foot in front of the other. I hope that gives Terry's friend and anyone else for whom our posts stirred up unsettled feelings, some peace of mind. This is me, then, trudging. 

Until Next Time …

Note this post first published online, January 10, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

©10 January 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Dumb Genealogical Mistakes I Have Made — Elmer/Elmore

I'm inaugurating a new type of blog post where I confess my past (or sometimes current) sins that I have made while researching my family tree. I know, nobody else has EVER made a dumb genealogical mistake. Or if they have, they are not masochistic enough to expose their sin to the whole world. Makes you wonder about my early potty training, right?

When I first started working on my family history, our family had been told that one of my paternal great-grandfathers was one Elmer Smathers. We knew that he had lived in the Jackson/Vinton/Athens county area of southern Ohio. I became extremely diligent in trying to find “our” Elmer. I was so diligent that I found two. I first found him in the 1910 census with his wife and four children listed as Elmer Smathers — his children, his wife all matched the known data. I found only one Elmer in the 1900 census, and I found the two Elmers in the 1880 census. 

El-MER Smathers was the son of Reuben Smathers and El-MORE Smathers was the son of Henry Smathers. I would later learn that the two were cousins. Because Elmer's name was spelled correctly, I concluded that the son of Reuben was “my” Elmer, the Elmer of the 1910 census. Even when I found a list indicating that this Elmer had died in February of 1910, I rationalized that the family had a reason for pretending he was still alive in the 1910 census. 

I imagined several scenarios. Maybe he had to be alive so the family could retain their mining company housing. Maybe he had simply disappeared one day and they didn't know that he had died. Maybe the census taker had interviewed a neighbor who didn't know of Elmer's death. I wove a lovely coat of improbable explanations as I stubbornly clung to my initial conclusion. 

Hey, I had invested a lot of time into Elmer being THE ONE, he wasn't going to get away that easily. It wasn't until I actually received his death certificate from the Ohio Historical Society that said El-mer was SINGLE, that I reconsidered my stubborn insistence that Reuben's Elmer was THE ONE. Even when I accepted that this was not the correct Elmer, I was insistent that Elmore could not be correct. The spelling, the spelling I kept repeating. 

If my mother, who is much wiser, hadn't written for the other Elmer's death certificate, which instead of being in the Jackson/Vinton/Athens county area as expected, was found in Lucas County of all places, I might have thrown up my arms in defeat. But my mother wrote for the death certificate, and when she finally received it, the information turned out to be for “our” Elmer. It also answered a couple of questions, and in hindsight, made perfect sense. 

The moral of the story is spelling, schmelling You can't chip away at facts to make them fit. All you can do is keep an open mind and follow where the genealogical trail leads. You can waste a whole lot of time and energy clinging to a beloved but erroneous theory. And if that isn't enough of a moral for you, try this — Momma always knows best! 

Until Next Time — Happy Ancestral Digging!

Note this post first published online, January 9, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 9 January 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplanned, Teresa L. Snyder 

Genealogical happenings

THE DESKTOP GENEALOGIST DESIGNATED A HOGS BLOGGER 

Let me just let that sink in a little bit. Yep, that's right, this blog is now listed as one of the H.O.G.S. Blogger's on Terry Thornton's HILL COUNTRY OF MONROE COUNTY Blog (http://hillcountryofmonroecountry.blogspot.com/). There's a cool emblem and everything! (You can see the emblem here http://hillcountryofmonroecountry.blogspot.com/2008/01/hogs-blogger.html.

Terry explains that HOGS stands for History, Observations, Genealogy, and Stories. Terry has summed it up perfectly because that's exactly what I write, although I might not have come up with that particular acronym. However, I can tell you that I am very pleased to be considered part of the HOGS network, and feel honored to be in such esteemed company. Thanks, Terry, for including me! Terry also wrote a nice piece about my two-part essay on “Finding Grandpa's Grave.” I am very humbled by his kind words. Thanks Terry.

Thanks also to Randy Seaver of GENEA-MUSINGS who named those same pieces in his “Best of the Genea-Blogs: 30 December 2007 to 5 January 2008” (http://randysmusings.blogspot.com/2008/01/best-of-genea-blogs-30-december-2007-to.html) Randy routinely puts together a weekly list of interesting posts. I am happy to be in the company of some very well-written pieces.

DNA AND GENEALOGY

To paraphrase Prissy from “Gone With The Wind” — I don't know nothin' about no DNA. When it comes to anything scientific, there seems to be a black hole in the center of my brain where all scientific expressions and explanations go immediately upon my hearing them. Not to worry, Blaine Bettinger of The Genetic Genealogist (http://www.thegeneticgenealogist.com/), posts on this very topic, and he has kindly divided his archives into categories.

One of the categories, DNA for Newbies, must have been written just for me (or maybe, you). If that isn't enough to wet your appetite, Blaine is running a contest and the prize is a FREE genetic test. If you want to check out the details go to http://www.thegeneticgenealogist.com/2008/01/04/win-a-free-genetic-genealogy-test-from-the-genetic-genealogist/. 

Until Next Time — GO BUCKS! 

Note this post first published online, January 7, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 7 January 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder 

Grandpa's Final Resting Place — Part Two

If you have worked on your own genealogy for any length of time, you know that tracking the females in the family create more challenges than tracking down the males. Marriage is the chief culprit here — every time a female marries, you have to start anew picking up the trail. So, trying to find my father's half sisters seemed daunting. As I tried to formulate a strategy, I decided since the sexton had given me the dates of death of grandpa's second wife and my half-uncle, I would once again request obituaries to see if I could pick up further clues. My uncle's obituary gave me the clues I needed to find one of the aunts.

Here, in the interest of protecting the privacy of both of my half-aunts, I am going to be purposely vague. I can tell you that the clue was sufficient enough for me, with some specialized help, to make a few calls to track down a phone number for the older of the two aunts. Again, each new nugget of information was passed along to my dad, and together we would decide the next step. 

As it turned out, this aunt had lived in different parts of the U.S. but at that very moment was living in Toledo and not far from where we now knew grandpa was buried. What to do? Dad and I discussed at length whether or not we should initiate contact. After all, we didn't know if dad's half sister knew that she had older half siblings. We didn't want her to think we wanted anything from her but the communication of one half sibling to another, no strings attached. It was decided that I would make contact with her, explain the situation, and give her information about my dad, along with his phone number and address. She could decide if she wanted to pursue communication with him.

On a Sunday night in November of 1995, I made the call. It took me several attempts at dialing before I finally had the courage to complete the phone call. I had a few weeks to get my head wrapped around the idea of having a half-aunt. Considering the fact that my call came without any warning to her, my newfound aunt handled the phone call extremely well. I told her who I was, and that I was calling on behalf of my father, who was interested in connecting with her. I gave her bits and pieces of dad's life, partly because I wanted to give her the sense of what a wonderful person my dad is, and partly to alleviate any concern by her that her newfound relatives had ulterior motives for the sudden communication. Then I let her know that this was the only contact we would be initiating with her, and that if she wanted to get in touch with dad, it was completely at her discretion. I gave her dad's name, phone number and address and let her know that he would be taking an extended vacation after the first of the year, and wouldn't be back until late Spring. 

I don't remember how long a period of time went by, it could have been weeks. But one evening dad came over to my house excited because he and his half sister had connected. The following year, when my parents came back to Ohio, the three of us went to meet his sister. When she opened the door, I knew instantly it was my half aunt. She reminded me of one of my dad's sisters. As a child, I adored this particular aunt, and seeing the resemblance made me feel instantly at ease with dad's “new” sister. 

We talked at length, shared stories and pictures. Her memories of her father were warm and nice, and she gave us a mental picture of grandpa that we had not been blessed with previously. The visit was wonderful. At the end, my new aunt pointed us to the cemetery and gave the three of us a general idea of where to look for grandpa's grave. We fanned out looking for the tombstone, and quite a bit of time passed before I reached down and brushed away the grass clippings form the top of one of the marker's. There, amid stray bits of grass, was my grandfather's name. 

It had taken our branch of the family 50 years, but that day we finally paid our respects to grandpa. My dad and his half sister still are in contact. They are the only two of Grandpa's twin families that are in touch.

As for my grandfather, I think that there are evil individuals and I think there are saints. My grandfather, like most of us, lived in the gray area between. He lived his life the best that he could, given the hand he was dealt. Sometimes he made mistakes and sometimes he got it just right. He chose two good, strong women to mother and raise his children, and the world is a little bit better because he did. Finding Grandpa's final resting place and meeting an unknown aunt were my “greatest genealogical finds ever” and it happened BG (before genealogy). 

Until Next Time — Happy Ancestral Digging! 

Note this post first published online, January 4, 2008, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 4 January 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplanned, Teresa L. Snyder