Ironies Of Family Research

Right now, as part of our training, we are spending nearly all our time on our own family research.

And if you look at the logic of it, that means more and more people all the time: each time we find one new person in our family tree, the door is opened to at least two parents. So the list of people we need to investigate increases rapidly: each success means the list grows longer.

It is delightful to discover the parents of an ancestor. Last week I found Elizabeth Wheeler's parents, Joseph and Sarah Wheeler. And then this week I found Sarah's maiden name: Manners.

I also had great correspondence with someone alive today who is descended from my third great grandfather, Alfred Adams. In fact, I found a whole family of descendants. And one, Cousin Helen Leaver from Colorado, has sent me a great deal of information, including a photo of Alfred's daughter Mary Jane Stottlar. She is a sister of our antecedent Augustus Albert Adams. These are the two children of Hannah Scott's four who lived to adulthood.

So where is the irony? While we are searching out our ancestors, we are unable to see many of our own children and grandchildren! We are learning about those who have died but we the living are mysteries to our descendants. That's ironic.

For this moment in our lives we are fully committed to being here, on location at the great Family History Library, an amazing repository of information about those who have lived and died, not only in the US but also in Europe and in many other parts of the world. And it's growing all the time. The library has thousands of microfilms in drawers that take up a huge amount of floor space and that extend so high that a tall person needs a stool to reach the top.

And just one microfilm contains names, dates, and places of thousands and thousands. Just the other day I was reading a film of the parish records made over the past 600 years from one small town in England, the town of Calne where our ancestors hovered for at least many generations. Just picking out the family names from that one town, I have pages of notes in small writing showing the christenings of babies, and their parents' names, and the date. It is possible to build entire families from such a record, ours and others'. That's how I found the names of Elizabeth Wheeler's parents, and verified her maiden name.

Sometimes after work we see our grandkids who live here in Salt Lake. We are not integral with their lives, though we are trying to get to know them and find things to do with them that they would enjoy.

But it may be that the only way our children are going to know us is if we right our own family histories, especially our own personal histories.

That's a project that would require a great deal of attention, and ironically it would come at the expense of actually spending time with our descendants.

There may be no other way. I don't like it. But I don't have a better solution for now. PL