That is VERY cool!
My mom had cousin who did a bunch of Genealogy research for decades, went to the library, the old microfiche way. Growing up she loved to listen to thee "Old relatives" tell stories and because she did she had interesting knowledge of family life and history including her grandmother and aunt who hidden on a hillside, watched a battle of the Civil war take place behind their home. I can't even imagine that.
There is a family bible which went back to a certain relative of my fathers. I had no idea where to go from that female relative and surprise surprise, there was a book written by a researcher who listed the line depending to that relative but not any further. It was so cool to have that bridge to the next hundreds of years.
On a side note, I have a close friend who discovered she had a 1/2 brother she didn't know about. Born before her parents were married and not known to her dad ( former girlfriend was the mom) so a DNA search can bring out some skeletons in a closet too.
I love this!
I have always loved history in general, and I have always been interested in my family and where they came from. It is less about family pride (although I am proud) and more about connections. We are all connected, if not by ancestors than by events. Further, it is amazing how things change yet remain the same. We who still live now and our ancestors faced the same challenges. We are born, we have families, we have occupations, jobs, hobbies, skills, etc., we see/experience war, poverty, conflict, etc. Everything comes full circle.
But it is important to research EVERYTHING! In our family, there was mention of being related to a member of the Cherokee nation (she is listed in one of our family bibles.) While we did eventually confirm that we were related to her, we learned that it was through marriage only, and that we descended from my ancestor's previous wife (still unnamed) through her oldest child. But it took a long time to find the truth.
Even now, we are still researching and trying to fill in the gaps. Thankfully, the DNA tests we got helped. My father's family surprisingly stayed in the same area in Britain for centuries before they moved to America. My mother's family mainly came from Wales, Scotland, and Ireland. However, we learned that approximately 28% of my mother's DNA indicate a strong link to Scandinavian heritage, around the time of the Vikings. But it makes sense to me, despite the fact that we can find almost no records from that time. I am the odd one in my family because I am the only one with green eyes, on either side. I stand out during our family get-togethers when I am surrounded by my father's family (every single one of them have blue eyes, I kid you not), and my mother's family with their brown eyes and grey eyes. But my Celtic/Viking heritage would explain it, so it's nice to know where my family trait comes from.
But it is good to know this information. I love sharing it, and I hope the rest of you enjoying sharing it as well.
Excellent points on the research, Allyn! I've been doing genealogy for about 10 years now and regularly encounter 'family trees' where folks just put a name in, without bothering to cross reference dates, locations, census data, etc. I only put a name in my tree if I am super certain that I can substantiate through numerous records that the person is definitely who I think they are. The further back you go the harder it is. I actually don't bother much with research and records much beyond about 1600 -- because I have no access to the original documents or even images. Mostly we're just relying on someone else's research which is often unreliable for a variety of reasons.
I too have a family story of Native American (Lennies Lenape). I tried but couldn't verify anything through records. Finally the DNA test confirmed that I have trace amounts (<1%) of Native American DNA. We know the family line - but not the name of the Native ancestor. Maybe someday I'll discover it - although sadly it is unlikely.
The whole genealogy process is fascinating. For me it is kinda like doing a massively complex jigsaw puzzle!
This is fascinating. I wonder if ancestry is more important for some than other. I always feel deep connections with the elders and interested in family lineage.
From a little lineage book my father carried out of China with him, I learned that my ancestors settled in China during the last dynasty when the Manchurian invaded China and invited the Mongolians to join them by marriage. Our Mongolian tribe was the tribe of the first empress of Qing Dynasty. I had thought myself to be Chinese until I turned 50, when I traveled into a remote mountain region on the island I grew up, and saw the resemblance between my mother's side of the family and the aboriginal people living there. My husband who had been to 78 countries in the world during the 80s and 90s was nodding his head enthusiastically when I made the discovery. He told me he was always secretly amused when I called myself Chinese. He could tell I have little Chinese in me. Instead, he likes to call me a pillager squared -- Mongolian and probably Maori -- and my son usually jokes that he is a pillager cubed, adding Vikings to the mix.
All these facts probably explain why I always felt like an outsider in the crowded Chinese city I grew up and why my dark skin was looked down by other "Chinese"; and why I feel so much at home in Arizona. I often am mistaken for Navajo outside the Native American communities. The Native will see immediately I do not have the same mannerism.
I have learned a great deal about history in general by searching my family history. Amazing things I never knew about in the past. It has also provided excuses to visit historical places my ancestors walked and lived like Jamestown, Williamsburg and Philadelphia. In fact, a riing of an ancestor which was a seal for letters and documents was recently found in a Jamestown dig and we had visited the exact dig. Makes you wonder how it was lost to time, only to be found centuries later. I was able to visit 2 churches my ancestors attended too. One in Wilmington DE and the one in Williamsburg VA. Another ancestor was the first surveyor for Yorktown, VA. Walking those streets made me feel very connected to him.
Perhaps the most powerful connection was one I made unknowingly. At 19, I traveled with my parents to England and we took a trip to Stratford Upon Avon and Warwick Castle. While at Warwick I was totally enthralled. I couldn't have been more excited and in awe than a child at Christmas who opened the very present they had dream of receiving. Even my mom years later commented on how she watched my amazement at the castle and its grounds. About 10 years ago I discovered a proven ancestor had been the owner of the castle, before it was expanded to its more current state. That was a stunning revelation to me.
@lovendures - You are absolutely right! I love the history component of genealogy and family history. Some of it is related to major historical events - Like my great-great grandfather (a union soldier from PA) who died in Salisbury Prison, a confederate prison camp in NC during the Civil War. Or my father's family whose McIntosh relatives fought at Culloden with the Jacobites. I've been to both locations and felt really moved by the history and the emotions attached to these places. But it is some of the smaller stories that are mind-blowing too. I have one line on my mother's side (same line that we believe have the Native Americans ancestry) that were "sawyers" in the mountains of PA. I discovered this harrowing account of a massive dam burst in a small town called Hickory Run, PA in the 1840s that swept through the town in the middle of the night during torrential rains when my ancestors were living there. It was written by Joanna Gould Westcott another resident of this very small town (probably no more than 10-15 homes). She was related to my family by marriage. It is the discovery of stories like these that blow my mind and make me inspired to learn more about my ancestors. I hope folks don't mind - but here is an edited excerpt from her account of the flood:
"It was about four o’clock when she heard a faint rumbling sound, which increased rapidly to an overwhelming roar. There was no mistaking its awful meaning...She had hardly time to close the window when the onrushing flood struck the house, lifting it from its foundation as though it had been an eggshell. It sped downward with the torrent, spinning as it went, for 500 feet, when it crashed against the fragments of the barn...
…the house was submerged the entire distance, and thousands of feet of lumber shot over it, while we escaped drowning because of the air that remained within when the flood engulfed it...Mother, groping in the darkness, found that the floor overhead had settled on our bed and we were captives. She was able, however, to loosen the boards enough to push me through. She then handed me my infant brother...Then I heard my mother calling for Lizzie, who had been in the room with us, but there was no response...I was now benumbed with the cold and do not remember anything more that occurred until daybreak. Then the rain was still falling in torrents. I was sitting in my night clothes beside my mother on the drift pile. She was holding my baby brother on her lap and the water was still flowing about us…
The roof having fallen upon the bed in which my brothers lay, they managed with great difficulty to crawl out upon the floor, only to find that the stairs had been washed away. By this time the two mill hands, hearing the voice of mother calling for help, leaped down to her...By means of a standing board the men now climbed to the upper story and released my brothers and little sister. But one was missing. Never can I forget the anguish of my mother when she said, "I can’t find Lizzie, but she is near me. I hear her voice, look for her! I hear her now! Listen, she is calling me!". No one heard Lizzie call, but mother was right and Lizzie was indeed near her.
Under mother’s direction the men wrought diligently, and down under the driftwood beneath the wrecked house they found the lifeless body of Lizzie. By this time the neighbors were flocking to the spot, and it was decided that we go to our nearest uncle’s house...The body of Lizzie was wrapped in a bedsheet and tenderly borne thither. My mother...was assisted by two mill hands, while another carried me all the way on his back. He held my bare feet - one in each hand - and often slapped my limbs to keep up the circulation. On the way to my uncle’s we saw the havoc...In the sandbank was found the body of one of the blacksmith’s little daughters. His wife and four of their children were drowned and many other lives were lost."
I was researching Buies from Scotland, and ran across an interesting story. It wasn't my Buies, but I kind of wished it was. These four Buie brothers had to leave Scotland in a hurry. They couldn't take anything including family. They would stop along the way in the American travels to grow a crop then move on. One of the brothers was blind. He played the bagpipes, and he'd go walking. When he got lost, he would stop and play the bagpipes until somebody came to get him. Just seemed like a feel good story.
What a harrowing story. You would never have known of this event had the story not been published. It gives you a window to what your ancestors went through from their neighbor's/famliy menber's own story.
Wow. Heartbreaking.
That is an amazing story even if it wasn't your family. I have also learned much by reading stories that "might" be family ancestors but are not in the end. They still paint a vivid picture during a time they lived and give a window of a life that was.
What a great thread this has become.