My mother's side of the family is not very close knit. I think that is due in part to the fact that my grandmother passed away very young. I have observed that it is typically the mother that holds extended family relationships together. I did, however, know my grandmother's sister, Ann.
When I was in my teens I would spend my summers in Florida; one month with my with my father's sister's family and one month with my maternal grandfather. Grandpa always made sure that I got to spend a day with his sister-in-law, my Aunt Ann.
I didn't get the sense that Grandpa and Ann were close. They simply lived near each other in Florida. He never stayed for the visits I had with Aunt Ann. He would just drop me off there at her condo for the day.
This was in the late 1980s, early 1990s. Thus it was after Ann's husband, Frank had passed away. I do however, vaguely remember my great uncle, Francis Thomas McGarry. My spotty memory clearly recalls his spotty memory. Uncle Frank suffered from Alzheimer's disease at the end of his life. I recall Ann and Frank coming for a visit to NY and stopping by our house with my great grandmother in tow. I was little. It was around the time of my parents' divorce; maybe 1982 or so. I recall Frank as tall and lanky and that Aunt Ann repeatedly told him that they were at Carol's house.
My mother, the aforementioned Carol, repeatedly told me that she loved her Uncle Frank dearly. Ann and Frank were childless and doted on their nieces and nephews as far as I could tell. I knew from my mother's stories that Frank was born in Scranton, Pennsylvania and was significantly older than Ann; 15 years older. Apparently Ann's parents were not happy about the age difference. However, Frank was warm, loving, and very generous so ultimately I suppose they accepted him. So when a hint popped up for Uncle Frank on my Ancestry tree today I explored it.
If this hint is correct Uncle Frank may have been married before. And if that is the case, he and his first wife appear to have had several children all of whom died very young; all boys Donald age 4 months died in 1933, Francis age 1 day died in 1935, John age 3 days died in 1937, and Baby Boy McGarry was just a few hours old when he died in 1939.
Is this my Uncle Frank's first family? If I had any relationship with my mother I would ask her if she knew if Frank was married before Aunt Ann. Would my mother even know? Did Ann know? I can't figure out what happened to the first wife, if this indeed is a first wife.
I see a Frank McGarry and wife Ruth in the Scranton City Directory for 1937 living at 407 Madison Avenue in Scranton. And then I see Ruth in the Scranton City Directory for 1940 living at 641 Madison Avenue, no mention of Frank. Hmm...
Then I came across the marriage license number for Ann and Frank in Manhattan in 1943. Today I am going to order that document from the New York City Municipal Archives to see if there is any indication as to Frank being married once before. To some extent it is cheaper to go into the Archives to get the record but its 11 degrees out this morning and the cost of the train ticket...eh, I'll just order it.
Stay tuned...
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
Monday, January 1, 2018
Because That Is What We Do
I was recently ask how far can I trace my family tree back. The answer is to the birth of my 13th great grandfather Robert Reynere in about 1525 in Wickham Market, England.
What does that really me to me?
Well, it says I descend from some white people who lit out from their homeland for a new start in a new world because of religious persecution; because they believed in something else. It means that my 10th great grandfather, Edward Raynor, obtained some notoriety on this continent such that someone thought it important to write down the name of his great grandfather. Really, it's interesting but what does it mean to me?
Shrug.
Edward Raynor was orphaned when he was about 8 years old. His parents Samuel and Mary died in about 1632. His paternal uncle, Thurston Raynor, brought Edward with him to the New World when he migrated across the ocean with his own family in 1634.
Edward was an orphan. His paternal uncle took him in. For a long time it was assumed by later generations of historians that Thurston was Edward's father until some wills were uncovered.
His uncle took him in.
Now that has meaning to me there. That act of caring for family members is something I see as a common thread through my family history.
My parents divorced when I was about 10. My mother's niece ran away from home in her late teens. When she came to New York, my father, her former uncle by marriage, took her in. He was under no obligation to do this but this is what we do. Her uncle took her in.
I have heard stories about when my father was younger how his parents took in cousins for short, and sometimes long, stints of time while they could get on their feet.
In fact, after my parents divorced, my father went back home to his parents' house because...he could. That is what they do. You can just come home.
I struggled to find my Earle great grandparents in the 1930 census. In correctly transcribed as Carle, I eventually found them and when I did, great grandpa had his brother-in-law living with them because, well, again, that is what we do. Whether it's your brother or her brother or a niece of nephew of some ilk, you take them in.
When great grandpa Earle left New Foundland after the death of his mother, he and his older sister went to Boston. It took me a long time to find them then but when I found his eldest sister Susan I was not surprised to see she was living with her maternal aunt because... that is what we do. Her uncle (by marriage) took her in.
I have at least a dozen more example but when asked what it means to me to be able to trace my family history back to a birth in 1525 it means I can point to nearly 400 years of real family. Real family being relatives, sometimes distant, who take in those struggling members of the gene pool to give them support to get up on their own two feet. They do this not because they have to but simply because that is what we do.
What does that really me to me?
Well, it says I descend from some white people who lit out from their homeland for a new start in a new world because of religious persecution; because they believed in something else. It means that my 10th great grandfather, Edward Raynor, obtained some notoriety on this continent such that someone thought it important to write down the name of his great grandfather. Really, it's interesting but what does it mean to me?
Shrug.
Edward Raynor was orphaned when he was about 8 years old. His parents Samuel and Mary died in about 1632. His paternal uncle, Thurston Raynor, brought Edward with him to the New World when he migrated across the ocean with his own family in 1634.
Edward was an orphan. His paternal uncle took him in. For a long time it was assumed by later generations of historians that Thurston was Edward's father until some wills were uncovered.
His uncle took him in.
Now that has meaning to me there. That act of caring for family members is something I see as a common thread through my family history.
My parents divorced when I was about 10. My mother's niece ran away from home in her late teens. When she came to New York, my father, her former uncle by marriage, took her in. He was under no obligation to do this but this is what we do. Her uncle took her in.
I have heard stories about when my father was younger how his parents took in cousins for short, and sometimes long, stints of time while they could get on their feet.
In fact, after my parents divorced, my father went back home to his parents' house because...he could. That is what they do. You can just come home.
I struggled to find my Earle great grandparents in the 1930 census. In correctly transcribed as Carle, I eventually found them and when I did, great grandpa had his brother-in-law living with them because, well, again, that is what we do. Whether it's your brother or her brother or a niece of nephew of some ilk, you take them in.
When great grandpa Earle left New Foundland after the death of his mother, he and his older sister went to Boston. It took me a long time to find them then but when I found his eldest sister Susan I was not surprised to see she was living with her maternal aunt because... that is what we do. Her uncle (by marriage) took her in.
I have at least a dozen more example but when asked what it means to me to be able to trace my family history back to a birth in 1525 it means I can point to nearly 400 years of real family. Real family being relatives, sometimes distant, who take in those struggling members of the gene pool to give them support to get up on their own two feet. They do this not because they have to but simply because that is what we do.
Wednesday, November 1, 2017
With Reservations and Reluctance
So many people are so excited about researching their family history through these newfangled online websites that often we forget that some come to genealogy research with reservations and reluctance.
I am working with a gentleman now who I will call "Mr. S" who is only doing his genealogical research for his daughter. She desperately wants to know more about her ethnic origin and lineage; in part because her husband has a long well-research family history that stretches back to the 12th century. With all these 30-60 minute long television shows that make this all look so quick and easy, it's challenging to impress upon people that research takes much much longer than that. Sometimes it takes years to find information about even one's own grandparents. And Mr. S's circumstances have left him little information to work with. Mr. S grew up in foster care, separated from his siblings, and apparently lied to about the details of his parents' lives.
Together he and I came across a Social Security Death Index (SSDI) record for a man who had the same name as Mr. S's birth father but the dates just did not seem correct. The date of birth was much further back that either of us expected and the date of death was nearly 20 years after the year he was told his father had committed suicide. Additionally the SSDI record indicated this man obtained his SS# in Georgia; a detail Mr. S had never heard before.
Unsettled by the record, I went home and investigated further. I was unable to find this man, who may be Mr. S's father, in a 1940 census record on Ancestry. On a whim I tried looking for him in the 1940 census using FamilySearch.org instead. Sure enough, I found a record. In 1940 this man was living in a boarding house in New York City. Upon closer examination, another man with the same last name was also living in the house, presumably his brother, his first name was Sidney. Now Sidney is not a bizarre first name but it certainly is not common. AND Mr. S had a brother of his own named Sidney. At that point, I was pretty convinced that these men were Mr. S's father and uncle and that the SSDI record was for his father.
Further confirmation came when I looked more closely at a death record Mr. S & I found together for his older brother who died at birth in 1941. That death record taken from the NYC Municipal Death Record Index through FamilySearch stated that the child died at the same address of the boarding house.
Mr. S's father wasn't born in the 1920s as we estimated, he was born in 1907 in Georgia. And he didn't die in the 1950s, he died in 1976.
I think these are painful truths for anyone in Mr. S's situation to have to face. It's hard enough to have had a difficult childhood, to have to rehash the details of it can be incredibly painful and frustrating.
I am not certain Mr. S's daughter will appreciate how much of a success this find is given how little detail we had. Sometimes adding just 1 more generation to the tree is as much as one can get.
I am working with a gentleman now who I will call "Mr. S" who is only doing his genealogical research for his daughter. She desperately wants to know more about her ethnic origin and lineage; in part because her husband has a long well-research family history that stretches back to the 12th century. With all these 30-60 minute long television shows that make this all look so quick and easy, it's challenging to impress upon people that research takes much much longer than that. Sometimes it takes years to find information about even one's own grandparents. And Mr. S's circumstances have left him little information to work with. Mr. S grew up in foster care, separated from his siblings, and apparently lied to about the details of his parents' lives.
Together he and I came across a Social Security Death Index (SSDI) record for a man who had the same name as Mr. S's birth father but the dates just did not seem correct. The date of birth was much further back that either of us expected and the date of death was nearly 20 years after the year he was told his father had committed suicide. Additionally the SSDI record indicated this man obtained his SS# in Georgia; a detail Mr. S had never heard before.
Unsettled by the record, I went home and investigated further. I was unable to find this man, who may be Mr. S's father, in a 1940 census record on Ancestry. On a whim I tried looking for him in the 1940 census using FamilySearch.org instead. Sure enough, I found a record. In 1940 this man was living in a boarding house in New York City. Upon closer examination, another man with the same last name was also living in the house, presumably his brother, his first name was Sidney. Now Sidney is not a bizarre first name but it certainly is not common. AND Mr. S had a brother of his own named Sidney. At that point, I was pretty convinced that these men were Mr. S's father and uncle and that the SSDI record was for his father.
Further confirmation came when I looked more closely at a death record Mr. S & I found together for his older brother who died at birth in 1941. That death record taken from the NYC Municipal Death Record Index through FamilySearch stated that the child died at the same address of the boarding house.
Mr. S's father wasn't born in the 1920s as we estimated, he was born in 1907 in Georgia. And he didn't die in the 1950s, he died in 1976.
I think these are painful truths for anyone in Mr. S's situation to have to face. It's hard enough to have had a difficult childhood, to have to rehash the details of it can be incredibly painful and frustrating.
I am not certain Mr. S's daughter will appreciate how much of a success this find is given how little detail we had. Sometimes adding just 1 more generation to the tree is as much as one can get.
Wednesday, October 11, 2017
Earth Shattering Family History for Fred Armisen
Did you know October is Family History Month?
Yeah, I knew too but I've been so crazy busy that I haven't planned anything special. Typically, I try to do some project to enhance my personal family history research. In the past I have turned my blog over to guest cousin writers, written biographies on each of my direct ancestors, traveled to far flung cemeteries on a weekly basis, etc. etc. etc.
This year I didn't plan anything but this morning I realized I am watching Finding Your Roots every week with my dad. He mostly uses it to fall asleep to but since I too am apparently half-assing Family History Month, I find this acceptable.
Have you been watching Finding Your Roots?
I loved Fred Armisen's family story which was in last night's episode (October 10, 2017). He is the grandson of a thought-to-be Japanese famous dancer turned WWII spy. As my almost 5 year-old niece Sofie would say in a sharp, short, voice, "What?!" It was absolutely mind blowing.
Armisen barely knew his grandfather so certainly there would be surprising revelations. He had only met his grandfather a handful of times in his life. He knew he was a Japanese dancer and choreographer; at least he thought he was. Not only did he did not know of his grandfather's role as a spy, he also did not know his true ethnic origin, original name, and the fact that there is a museum in Japan dedicated to his art. What the what?!?!
Now I have learned some surprising facts about my ancestors but nothing quite as Earth shattering as a museum about them. Jeez-Louise.
Additionally, the researchers were able to find a chokbo which is a Korean book of genealogy that traced Armisen's family back to the 1600's. For a man who knew so little when he started the episode he certainly left with a tremendous amount of information; more than most people find in a lifetime of research.
At the end of the episode they showed clips of Armisen visiting the museum and seeing images of his grandfather's works and costumes. Just amazing!
Monday, August 14, 2017
Remembering Ben and Reflecting on Cremation
On Saturday, August 5, 2017, I received an Earth shattering call from Cousin Peter that his cousin Ben had passed away. Since that day I have burst into tears at least once per day.
Ben was like a cousin to me. I didn't see him often but then again, I did see him more frequently then some of my own first cousins. I think of him as family. He was. And there was a time when we were close; a brief period when we called one another just to chat.
Ben was my age...or just about. I was born in June of 1974, Ben in November. However, I will always be 28. And well, now I suppose Ben will always be 42.
He and I seemed to have very similar emotional responses to the circumstances and situations around us. Ben, however, like so many I have loved, struggled with addiction. Recently, it had seemed he had gotten a handle on his demons; that he was sober and finally in a good place. Sadly, though, it was indeed an overdose that took him from us.
His funeral was like no other that I have experienced. I thought my grandfather's wake had a huge turn out; the procession from the mass to the cemetery comprised about 75 cars of family and friends. Ben's wake, though, was so crowded that you couldn't move. People were packed into the double room shoulder to shoulder, out the door, filled the foyer, out the building, and down the block. And I had never been to a service where I had seen more people visibly shaken and unable to compose themselves; including me.
That is because Ben was awesome; funny beyond measure, generous beyond belief. He taunted everyone equally and no one was spared.
When I read his obituary I learned that his remains would be cremated and it made me a little sad. I shouldn't have been surprised and I really wasn't. Cousin Peter's family had chosen cremation for both of his grandparents on his mother's side. Of course Ben would be cremated. However, it made me flash back to when I was working on Mr. Boller's scrapbook.
I was about a semester into working on Mr. Boller's scrapbook, my capstone project for my Masters in Public History, when I finally obtained Mr. Boller's obituary which stated that he too had been cremated. It made me sad then that I had no place to go to pay my respects to Mr. Boller whom I had never met. Ben I at least knew and can sense around me since his passing.
However, Cousin Peter has assured me that Ben's cremains will be interred in a columbarium or outdoor memorial wall of some sort so I will indeed have a place to visit Ben. For researchers, however, who read such obituaries, one does not know if those person's ashes are interred somewhere or simply scattered about the deceased's favorite park or body of water or ballfield, what-have-you. I hate obituaries like that. However, Ben's obituary is really quite beautiful, informative about familial connections (like all genealogist want to see), and very fitting.
If you have someone close to your heart who has struggled with and succumbed to the pain of addiction, or even if they are presently struggling, I encourage you to consider making a donation to Hope House Ministries of Port Jefferson, NY (http://www.hhm.org/). They are an organization that ministers to individuals and families in crisis and a place that has provided much love and support to Ben's family. Once you click on the "Submit Information" button on this page (http://www.hhm.org/MHDonation.html), whether you fill in any information or not, you will be brought to a paypal site through which you can make an online contribution.
Ben was like a cousin to me. I didn't see him often but then again, I did see him more frequently then some of my own first cousins. I think of him as family. He was. And there was a time when we were close; a brief period when we called one another just to chat.
Ben was my age...or just about. I was born in June of 1974, Ben in November. However, I will always be 28. And well, now I suppose Ben will always be 42.
He and I seemed to have very similar emotional responses to the circumstances and situations around us. Ben, however, like so many I have loved, struggled with addiction. Recently, it had seemed he had gotten a handle on his demons; that he was sober and finally in a good place. Sadly, though, it was indeed an overdose that took him from us.
His funeral was like no other that I have experienced. I thought my grandfather's wake had a huge turn out; the procession from the mass to the cemetery comprised about 75 cars of family and friends. Ben's wake, though, was so crowded that you couldn't move. People were packed into the double room shoulder to shoulder, out the door, filled the foyer, out the building, and down the block. And I had never been to a service where I had seen more people visibly shaken and unable to compose themselves; including me.
That is because Ben was awesome; funny beyond measure, generous beyond belief. He taunted everyone equally and no one was spared.
When I read his obituary I learned that his remains would be cremated and it made me a little sad. I shouldn't have been surprised and I really wasn't. Cousin Peter's family had chosen cremation for both of his grandparents on his mother's side. Of course Ben would be cremated. However, it made me flash back to when I was working on Mr. Boller's scrapbook.
I was about a semester into working on Mr. Boller's scrapbook, my capstone project for my Masters in Public History, when I finally obtained Mr. Boller's obituary which stated that he too had been cremated. It made me sad then that I had no place to go to pay my respects to Mr. Boller whom I had never met. Ben I at least knew and can sense around me since his passing.
However, Cousin Peter has assured me that Ben's cremains will be interred in a columbarium or outdoor memorial wall of some sort so I will indeed have a place to visit Ben. For researchers, however, who read such obituaries, one does not know if those person's ashes are interred somewhere or simply scattered about the deceased's favorite park or body of water or ballfield, what-have-you. I hate obituaries like that. However, Ben's obituary is really quite beautiful, informative about familial connections (like all genealogist want to see), and very fitting.
If you have someone close to your heart who has struggled with and succumbed to the pain of addiction, or even if they are presently struggling, I encourage you to consider making a donation to Hope House Ministries of Port Jefferson, NY (http://www.hhm.org/). They are an organization that ministers to individuals and families in crisis and a place that has provided much love and support to Ben's family. Once you click on the "Submit Information" button on this page (http://www.hhm.org/MHDonation.html), whether you fill in any information or not, you will be brought to a paypal site through which you can make an online contribution.
Friday, August 4, 2017
More Moors
Several years ago, late June of 2012 to be more precise, some of my very best friends, Andrea and Laszlo, were visiting Laszlo's mother in New Hampshire. It was at that time that I discovered my connection to an American Revolution Patriot; two in fact, my 5th great grandfathers, Colonel Daniel Moor and his brother, Robert Moor. Yeah, one set of my 4th great grandparents were 1st cousins. Daniel's daughter, Eleanor, married Robert's son, William.
It just so happened that Daniel and Robert were buried in Derry, NH right where my friends were vacationing. At my request, their family went trampling around Forest Hills Cemetery looking for headstones of my ancestors.
Forest Hills Cemetery is where Robert Moor is interred as well as his parents, my 6th great grandparents, John Moor and Janet Grey-Moor.
On my recent road trip to Maine, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Nova Scotia with Cousin Kelly and Cousin Peter, we made our way home through New Hampshire and stopped at the cemetery where Colonel Daniel Moor is interred; Old Bedford Cemetery on Back River Road.
This here is an aerial shot of the cemetery. My Moors are located at the top of the diamond here:
Early settlers of Londonderry, NH, now known as Derry, NH, were buried here. This includes many Moor family members.
To give you an idea how the size of these headstone that appear as little black dots above, here is a photo of Cousin Kelly standing in front of Colonel Daniel's stone:
I am much shorter than Cousin Kelly. Basically, the large stone here is my height; 4' 10".
It is a little hard to read but here is the face of the stone:
A more curious stone to me was this one below. It was tucked off in the corner but right near this family's section. It was that of Peter Moor, a "Negro Servant of William Moor, Elder. He died July 9th, 1790 In the 39th year of his age.":
I do believe William Moor Elder, the term they used then to mean Sr., was the brother of Colonel Daniel but I have to put a little more research into sorting out the mesh of Moors in my family tree and Derry.
It just so happened that Daniel and Robert were buried in Derry, NH right where my friends were vacationing. At my request, their family went trampling around Forest Hills Cemetery looking for headstones of my ancestors.
Forest Hills Cemetery is where Robert Moor is interred as well as his parents, my 6th great grandparents, John Moor and Janet Grey-Moor.
On my recent road trip to Maine, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Nova Scotia with Cousin Kelly and Cousin Peter, we made our way home through New Hampshire and stopped at the cemetery where Colonel Daniel Moor is interred; Old Bedford Cemetery on Back River Road.
This here is an aerial shot of the cemetery. My Moors are located at the top of the diamond here:
Early settlers of Londonderry, NH, now known as Derry, NH, were buried here. This includes many Moor family members.
To give you an idea how the size of these headstone that appear as little black dots above, here is a photo of Cousin Kelly standing in front of Colonel Daniel's stone:
I am much shorter than Cousin Kelly. Basically, the large stone here is my height; 4' 10".
It is a little hard to read but here is the face of the stone:
A more curious stone to me was this one below. It was tucked off in the corner but right near this family's section. It was that of Peter Moor, a "Negro Servant of William Moor, Elder. He died July 9th, 1790 In the 39th year of his age.":
I do believe William Moor Elder, the term they used then to mean Sr., was the brother of Colonel Daniel but I have to put a little more research into sorting out the mesh of Moors in my family tree and Derry.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Genealogical Sources & Services 101 in Review
It has been awhile since I have posted. It's been a very busy spring and summer. If you have read my blog in the past, you may know that this past June I taught my very first online graduate course on genealogical sources and services through St. John's University's Division of Library and Information Science.
It was a great experience. I really really enjoyed it and my students seemed to as well. I received really positive feedback from the 14 students I had.
They were from very diverse backgrounds which made their final papers fun to read. The focus of the 4 1/2 week online course was for each of them to write a brief biography on a relative who passed away before the student was born. In order to do so they had to conduct their own family history research. This included conducting a family history interview, building a family tree, using online databases through Ancestry.com & FamilySearch.org, and developing research strategies to fill in the gaps in their findings. Additionally, we covered topics more specific to librarianship in the field of genealogy; topics like ethics, empathy, referrals, and public perception.
Some of the feedback from my students verbalized thoughts and feelings I myself have experienced but was never able to put into words like this:
"While I did not uncover anything earth-shattering about my ancestors, seeing their signatures on documents, photos on naturalization papers, and handwriting on forms (ie: WWI and WWII draft registrations) was enough to bring a smile to my face."
"Going back through my family history made me appreciate where I am today even more."
"I really enjoyed ... how my project brought my family closer."
I look forward to teaching the course again next summer and I'm already thinking about what changes I would like to make to the course. I think I am going to cut out a portion about interviewing professionals and just post some interviews I conduct by myself with genealogy librarians. Also, I think I might add in some brain storming activity about creating potential library programs one could design related to genealogy.
Have you attended any genealogy related programs at your public library that you really enjoyed and/or learned a lot from?
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