If Your Momma Ain’t Intrigued, Ain’t NObody Gonna Be Intrigued!

(From The Princess Bride)

Inigo Montoya: “I do not mean to pry, but you don’t by any chance happen to have six fingers on your right hand?”

Man in Black: “Do you always start conversations this way?”

I love Inigo. He’s focused, passionate, and funny.

Intriguing,too.

Sort of like my new friend, Cathy. In just three meetings with me she has “completed” her 4-generation pedigree and is well on her way to filling in the details of the fifteen family groups.

I always give homework and rarely remember what assignment I gave. I should probably write them down? I’d be a fun teacher. My students would get away with a lot. But we’d also have fun learning, too. Exciting subjects drive themselves. Don’t you think?

Cathy has surprised me two times now by coming into the Family History Center having done hers. She’s amazing. She needs no reminders. We laughed about how tired she was. On Tuesday night we both left the Center and worked on some of her family history puzzles late into the night. She admitted that she had the next day off from work and spent the whole day looking for the link between two great grandparents with the same last name. That was the homework assignment she’d been given that she was so excited to share last night.

“You did?!” I squealed.

“Yup. I found them.” She started talking to herself as she fingered through her files, looking for the one with the goods in it while I peppered her with  distracting questions.

I switched chairs to sit at her right, explaining that I sleep on the left side of the bed, but I’m used to sitting to her right. My friend got a chuckle out of that declaration.

“You mean they were sisters?” I asked.

“That means that their great-grandchildren, one a boy and the other a girl, got married?” I looked at her, waiting.

“”They’re a few logs removed from the wood pile,” she said matter-of-factly, staring straight ahead at the computer screen. Oh, my! She makes me laugh!

 I had to get my cousins chart out to figure out what to call them. From now on it’s going to be hanging in the Center.”Cathy! Your mom and dad are third cousins!” No big deal, but really fun!

It was 8:30 and my ride  had arrived, so we wrapped things up and I went home . While unwinding on the couch, Kyle asked, “What do you DO with people there?” which he followed up with, “I have NO interest in that at all!”

To which I replied, “It’s in the stories, Kyle. You get hooked in the stories. We (Cathy and I) opened up a World War I draft registration record and found out this guy had three fingers on his left hand.”

Kyle just stared at me with a squinched up nose. Guys love blood and guts and action! The kind that Inigo Montoya delivers. I think my son was starting to get it, but he just laughed and shook his head.

But my mind was already off imagining about how it had happened.

‘Cause in the end, that’s what intrigued me the most. And if  Momma ain’t intrigued, ain’t NObody gonna be intrigued!

Ha! What intrigue have you found in your ancestors’ closets?

Thanks, Dad. You Taught Me to Hope

“Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water,

about eight minutes without air…but only for one second without hope.”

Hal Lindsey

Sometimes I catch myself thinking in “Lasts”.

When I can put myself into that frame of mind, the moment becomes richer and memories start flooding in like a slide show across my mind.

I was doing that yesterday when I was thinking about my dad and how today might be the last Father’s Day for us both.

Funny how a mind collects random events and saves them for whenever. Isn’t it?

I remember the day we were out on Buzzards Bay in his Boston Whaler. The four of us kids were treated to a day of fishing and swimming off of Black Beach and were headed home when the fog rolled in.

Within minutes the boat was engulfed and we couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of us.

I recall the silence. There was a fear in it. Four little kids and a man suddenly in the middle of nowhere. listening to the waves lapping against the side of the boat as my dad cut the engine.

I felt dread. How do you get home when you don’t know where you are? Would I ever see my mom again?

I don’t know how my dad felt. But he acted like he’d been in that situation a million times. While we all hunkered down and stared out into the mist, nervously asking him what would become of us, he slowly revved the motor and turned the boat so that the waves would hit the back and right side of the boat.

“You gotta watch for rocks,” he said. “And you gotta find the shore. The shore will lead you home.”

I’d heard of navigating by the stars. But what if you couldn’t see them?

I’d never thought of using dry ground to navigate.

The waves were headed towards the shore, and as we followed them we eventually saw the sandy beach we’d been swimming at earlier in the day. My dad turned the boat in the opposite direction when we were close enough and we headed home. We eased ourselves around the jetty that jutted out from the beach and finally saw the mouth of the harbor.

Home was minutes away.

Never once had my dad lost his cool. He was sure he could find his way in the darkness. He was confident that if we went slow enough it would all work out.

Worry may have lurked below the surface, just like the rocks beneath the waves. But his calm determination to find the shore in the midst of uncertainty was an anchor for four little kids who didn’t have the knowledge or experience he had.

It’s Father’s Day. I want to thank my dad for one of the most profound gifts he ever gave me.

He opened my heart and mind to the principle of hope.

Head for home when the storms roll in.

Watch for rocks ’cause they’re there.

Look for the shore when you feel lost.

One foot in front of the other. One step at a time.

• What lessons did your dad teach you? Did he know that you learned? Have you (did you) ever told him?

Family History and the Art of Cloning

Do you have ANY idea how many people are excited to start and/or work on their family history? The answer doesn’t matter unless they all walk through the Family History Center door at the same time with a smile on their face, papers in their hands, and a steady gaze that says, “Help me!” AND they’re all looking at you!

I was sitting with one young woman, shaking hands with four visitors, while saying “Hi! You’re back!” to Cathy (with a C, not a K, I learned)…

And then the phone rang!

It’s quite a challenge to stay composed when you are anything but calm on the inside. I’ve never mastered talking to more than one person at the same time (I’ve practiced for 26 years with 9 children and the only thing I’ve learned is to NEVER make eye contact with anyone but he with whom you are talking. Acknowledge them with a hand wave and a “just a minute” finger, but that’s it or they’ll start talking over everyone else.)

Long story short, I believe in miracles.

I hung up the phone and turned to Cathy who sat patiently waiting for her turn.

“So. What are we doing tonight?” I asked as we pulled up FamilySearch.org  and Ancestry.com. She fidgeted for a minute because she didn’t have an answer.

And then I saw it! “Look at you! You made it!” On her lap sat a perfectly organized accordion folder, full of files that we’d put in piles the week before. Do you know how excited I was? She’d taken my advice and spent a bit of time getting what she had in order.

“How do you like it?”

Cathy was a changed woman. Her confidence had grown so much. She opened the folder and pulled out a file, showing me the label and accompanying pictures for the family that had taken up residence inside. We added a family group sheet to each folder and spent an hour searching for records in one of them, We drew timeline on the front, copied documents and placed them in the folder, updating the family group sheet as we went.

She was thrilled to be able to make some progress where her deceased sister had left off. She was getting closer to her goal of having four generations of her family history documented and ready to share with her sisters when she visits them in August.

Next Tuesday we’ll make an account for her with Legacy Stories. She’ll start with a free one, and we’ll add her sisters so that they can see and share everything she’s working on. We’ll scan and upload the pile of old photos she showed me, and maybe make 5 of the Talking Photos(they come with the free account, too).

We’ll look at The Leave a Legacy program( family tree website) and see if it’s a good fit for her family. If so, we’ll upload her GEDcom file from Ancestry into it.

Everything was falling into place for her. Soon she won’t need me anymore.

And then it dawned on me…

I can be very bold, usually with no warning.

“Cathy? Would you start volunteering here in two weeks?”

You see, there’s no way that two consultants can help everyone. The Center is getting very active. I’m waiting for approval for 4 other consultants, but my gift of impatience got the better of me, and much to the surprise of my friend sitting across the room, I decided to go fishing for the fish sitting right next to me instead of wait for the imaginary ones in the other pond.

“Sure!” she said with a smile. No hesitation. No sign of insecurity.

“The only problem I might have is navigating screens.” she admitted.

“All you have to do is help someone who knows less than you do. Just stay a few steps ahead of them and you’ll learn very quickly.” I assured her.

Done.

It really does make a difference to ask. You know?

With a lot of mini-me’s I can spend more time on MY family history, and researching and writing stories. It’s a win-win! Or a win-win-win-win!!

• I win freedom for other pursuits by training people to do my job
• The Center benefits because when something happens and I can’t show up, the work goes on.
• People are given the opportunity to learn and grow at an accelerated pace, and then give back by serving someone with their knowledge and skills
• The cycle repeats as those new consultants train the next wave!

Easy!!

Now…to apply that concept to housework!

Are They Worth a Thousand Words to You?

“Can you get me a graduation gift?” Madeleine asked me.

By the end of the night she’d have hers and would have unknowingly given one to me at the same time.

Gifts can come in unexpected packages.

Typically I spend Tuesday nights at the Family History Center working with people on their genealogy. Last night was Madeleine’s 4th grade graduation from grade school. Yeah, they do that now. I went through the motions of getting myself there, but my eyes were on the clock while we ate and waited for the ceremony to begin.

I could never have predicted what fate had prepared for me or how deeply I’d be touched.

And then the lights went out.

The music and the slide show started as my heart stopped and tears began to flow.

I wasn’t alone in my reaction. A man had pulled up a chair diagonal to mine to sit near his wife. He was a wreck the whole night. His wife rubbed his back and whispered, “Are you okay?” often in his ear. He kept nodding a “yes”.  But he was struggling to stay composed.

So was I.

Why the tears? It took a moment of pondering, but I finally connected the dots.

It was the pictures. And the music.

Snapshots of memories organized in a slide show with “My Wish”, by Rascal Flatts playing in the background.

Photos of my little girl riding her bike with her teacher and friends from the beach to the school every day.

Shots of her playing on the playground.

One of her by herself capturing her innocence and internal beauty.

I was so moved by the adults in my daughter’s life whose compassionate service connected all of those memories to a mother’s heart. They told a story of times and a world that she and I don’t share.

They didn’t have to do what they did.

Neither do you.

You don’t have to share the stories and photos of your loved ones and/or ancestors with your family. But I promise you that it matters. Photos add a valuable dimension of our experience and understanding of those we love or of those we want to get to know better. They tell a silent tale. They truly are worth a thousand words. Now you can even record a story with your photo at Legacy Stories.

I will be forever grateful for the reminder that it’s in the stories that we connect to people, both the living and the dead. We can’t be everywhere, experiencing life as is happens with our friends and loved ones. But the life captured in those moments is priceless.

Those pictures and the stories they tell are shared through sacrifice, thoughtfulness, time, and energy that could have been devoted to many other things.

What more can I say?

My wish for you is to share the photos and stories of your loved ones.

Someone like me will thank you someday.

P.S. I never made it to the Family History Center. I was joyfully centering my heart and mind on my living family history with my daughter. I think that’s exactly where my ancestors were, too. Enjoying Madeleine!

 

• Do you love sharing photos and stories? Do you have a good system of sharing them with your family?

++++

“Lyrics of “My Wish”, by Rascal Flatts

I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow,
and each road leads you where you wanna go,
and if you’re faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.
And if one door opens to another door closed,
I hope you keep on walkin’ till you find the window,
if it’s cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile.
But more than anything, more than anything…

My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
and while you’re out there getting where you’re getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.

I hope you never look back, but you never forget,
all the ones who love you, in the place you left,

I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,and you help somebody every chance you get,
Oh, you find God’s grace, in every mistake,
and always give more than you take.
But More than anything, yeah, more than anything…

My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
and while you’re out there getting where you’re getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish. Yeah. 

My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
and while you’re out there getting where you’re getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.

Family History Sunday Series 1:10 When Salt Loses Its Savour

“Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted?” Matthew 5:13

Family history and genealogical research becomes like salt that has lost its savour when it does not meet it’s intended goals of connecting and uniting  family members in love-  both the living to the dead and the living to the living, and preserving their histories from which the living are strengthened.

• When the quest to see how far back in time one can go in a family tree, overlooking the need to thoroughly research one family group, the savour is lost.
• When the stories within the research are never discovered, written, and shared, the savour is lost.
• When the research is never found to be perfect enough to share, the savour is lost.
• When whole family lines are avoided due to offenses and bad feelings, the savour is lost.
• When intense focus is given to one family line in hopes of finding royal connections or celebrity, the savour is lost.
• When family history is relegated to the “hobby” pile instead of the “essential” pile, the savour is lost.
• When more time is spent researching the dead than making memories with the living, the savour is lost.

A little sprinkle of salt enhances the flavor of everything.

The flavor is already there.

The salt is just the catalyst that draws the flavor into the water which it naturally attracts to itself, carrying more of that flavor with it.

Too much salt and it doesn’t work. You just get too salty!

Doing family history and genealogy for the right reasons are like sprinkling a bit of salt on a piece of melon. How? A melon is fine just the way it is. So is your life. I would like to suggest that there is so much more to “taste”. There is so much more flavor to enjoy. Pick any family member from your family “garden”, one who has passed on or one who is still living, get to know them better in an interview or a little research if they are no longer living, and see how that experience changes you.

I promise you it will. You will “taste” more love, love that already exists and is waiting to be found and shared.

Wherever you find love, you’ve mined in the right place.

Not everyone will be “mining” with you. That doesn’t mean what you’ve found isn’t valuable. But for now it may only have value for you. Which then brings us to salt’s ability to preserve.

It doesn’t take much to preserve a memory, photo or story these days. It’s in the stories themselves where the flavor of a life is experienced. You may have collected documents and photos from which someone else will eventually write the story. But they have to be preserved and easily found or that story will never be written. When we preserve those things, and then the stories. we have essentially invited our loved ones to a picnic that has no start or end time, but promises a feast that never spoils and always satisfies.

So what do we have to do?

• Find them (the living, too!).
• Enjoy them.
• Share them.
• Preserve the memories.

You have to admit, salt is amazing. It’s not only a flavor enhancer and preservative, but also a very good teacher. No?

Thursday Night With Betsy

Image website: http://everlastingwanderer.wordpress.com/2011/05/26/obsession-werewolf-aka-mafia-game/

Do you function well after 4pm? I don’t. But not many people know that. My mom is the only other person who admits to that gift.

However…

…it was Thursday night at the Family History Center, and I was furiously finishing the bulletin board in the hallway. I only had to remove 12 staples out of whatever 17×4 adds up to. (I know. It’s not addition. But how else do you say it?) I can do math. But my brain doesn’t function after dark. It’s solar powered.

At 7pm, just as the sun was going down behind my eyes, and I was flipping the switch labeled. “From This Moment On, Watch What You Say and Do Because You Might Regret It,” Kathy walked in.

You know, I have to hand it to fate. I needed Kathy and she needed me.

I almost laughed out loud. Another notebook and pile-of-paper clutcher! But I restrained myself and led her into my office, sat her down, and asked. “Whatcha got?”

After about 10 minutes of searching through her papers to fill in the Betsy-required 4-generation pedigree chart, I started stealing her documents.

People are very possessive of their documents and paperwork, cluttered and disorganized or not. But I had a choice. Either we could both fall into the endless pit of confusion that sucks up time and creates the illusion that you’re working hard, or I could take control and make her relatively stressed out while we got her organized, thus saving us both from a lot of pain and anguish.

Yes. That’s how it feels when you are disorganized. I’ve seen it enough to recognize the signs: forehead rubbing, apologizing, downcast eyes, sometimes even a light sweat as documents and notes are shifted from one pile to the next with hopes that the elusive needle in the haystack magically appears, and a sigh of relief escapes.

I chose the latter and made generation piles where she had to choose which document belonged in which pile and put it there. Then, because I forgot to bring file folders, we paper clipped all of the scanned pictures and documents to the correct cover sheet, labeled with which generation and on whose side of the family (her mom’s or dad’s) the pile belonged.

Then we sat at the computer searching on Ancestry.com and FamilySearch.org, for her great grandfather. I worked the mouse and she typed.

You see, she was half brain-dead, too. I laughed when I saw myself in her. She’d stop and ask, “What was I doing?” when in the middle of typing a name. She would sit back and stare blankly at the screen and say, “I’m clueless. I should be in bed!”

To ease her up a bit I told her that we sometimes do Dairy Queen runs (my friend does), but she said she got enough sweets working at her nursing home down the street and she was staying away from sweets.

When all else fails, break out the food. People get happy and relaxed.

“What do you do there?” I asked.

“I work with Alzheimer patients.”

“Is it contagious you think?” I stared her in the eyes and waited the millisecond it took to register the question. I was just having fun with her, but she doesn’t know me. It could have gone either way.

“Yes! I do!” she roared.

It was obvious that I’d found a kindred spirit when math became an issue.

(I even laughed that statement out loud to my friend who was getting free entertainment from us two computers down.)

Kathy and I both looked at each other and shook our heads in shame and amazement that we could each do the same calculations, agree that we were right, and find out we were both 20 years off!!  I was so amused. “Oh, my! It’s so nice to meet someone else who is number-challenged when night falls!”

We found Great Grand Daddy in the 1910 census right where he was supposed to be with his wife and children. He was farming land in Pennsylvania and his wife was “keeping house.” Note to self: do better with that one.

It was time to go home and I gave her some homework . She was so excited and is coming back on Tuesday night.

I left my wonderful friend to lock up and made my way to the parking lot where I learned that my son had been driving the car. No big deal except he has no permit or license, yet. He’s only 15 and often takes my keys. Note to self: keep keys on your person.

He doesn’t like math either.

Just Make Them Swim or Paddle a Canoe Already!

Claire came in tentatively, clutching her notebook. Kathleen, her sister, was obviously by her side for moral support. We’d played phone tag all day and I was so thrilled to see them walk through the door of my home away from home- the Family History Center.

They talked about Thomas Walsh whose ship’s record and naturalization records were the soup du jour. After an hour of searching I looked at Claire and asked, “What’s the big deal? You know the year he arrived. That’s documented. Why are you stuck on more paperwork to prove it?”

“I just want those pieces of his story,” Claire shrugged.

You have to understand that my body still hasn’t adjusted to staying awake past 7:30 pm in the 6+ months I’ve been doing other things at night, and a telltale sign is how punchy I can get. We had had a blast searching and visiting,  opening documents where a few facts matched, but not enough to throw a party.

So we tried different avenues and approaches and I shared how impressed I was with how their minds had shifted into a detective mode. I’d seen it happen. They were excited to be feeling more independent.

Finally I let them in on a secret of mine. My Piles. I like my piles. They are convenient places to put recalcitrant and invisible people who know where they are but don’t want you to find them. I like to leave them there to let them think. They have to come to terms with their responsibility to help people get their story straight.

I suggested to Claire that she put this little family in a “Floating on a Raft in the Middle of the Atlantic Ocean” pile for a while. They had to get here somehow. Canoe?  There must be a better, more concise  name for it. Perhaps you’ll think of it for me and I’ll pass it on. How ’bout the “Life Preserver” pile? I’ll offer both and let them choose.

We reluctantly packed things up and promised to get together on Thursday night to put together a file system for their documents and notes. We chatted about Family Tree Maker and my reluctance to buy more genealogy software. To be honest, I pondered my resistance to it all night and wondered if I was just being stubborn?

Yes. I was. When it comes to stuff that doesn’t do what I want it to do I stand firm against letting it take up space on my computer and calendar. It’s not that I don’t love what it does for you as far as collecting, filing, and creating documents, as well as charts, maps, and books from all of your hard work. They offer beautiful, functional, important  things for genealogists and family historians.

I’m on another path. I’ve made the transition to Legacy Stories where you can have a personal family tree website. create and share photo albums, stories and videos, AND link them to FamilySearch all while staying in as much control of it as you want while sharing with family and friends. And at less than $10/mo. the value can’t be matched. Just upload a GEDcom (GEnealogical Data COMmunication) file and you’re up and running!

I’ll tell you more about it another time. It’s really cool and is the newest rage. You at least need to know how fast technology is advancing the genealogy/family history experience!

To me it’s all about using the Internet to share and to connect in meaningful ways. The last thing I need is another site that seems like a coffee table book that has had so much love put into it and has to sit and wait for people to be invited to open it. I like an open-door policy. It’s more fun. And if I can have a quality one-stop-shopping experience I’m happy, too! (No matter what, I always have a paper copy, and a GEDCOM file saved in in my computer and on a CD case of emergency.)

So, until Friday (if good stuff happens Thursday night!), take care and Happy Hunting!

P.S. I’m not on the Internet much anymore except for family history work. But I’m easy to contact by email, and if you need my phone number I’ll give it to you there. See ya!

From Anger to Love

(Before you read any of my posts, consider that you and I may experience death differently. I see it as a continuation of life where my loved ones grow, learn and share with me who they were in this life and what they’ve learned and are learning. I never mean any disrespect with my sense of humor about or exposure of what I consider to be the good, the bad, and the ugly experiences that every human being has had or will have while roaming this place called Earth. In fact, I know that my ancestors are tickled to be remembered, and never feel disrespected, but are very pleased to have had someone see their lives as worthwhile to those still living. Enjoy!)

I know he’s dead.

My mom remembered the other day how and where.

“My dad and he were on a fishing trip and he died. He was about 59. And as I recall (not her words exactly), fishing was like everything else…not much fun.”

Edward De Zeng Kelley was born in Connecticut in 1874 to Thomas and Estelle. By the time he was 32 he had a wife and two children, a boy and a girl. Actually, I learned from a census record that there had been three, but the first had died before my grandfather was born. How did that affect him?

I haven’t written a story of my ancestors in a while. Maybe a couple of weeks. I haven’t checked. Edward, my maternal great grandfather has been on my mind. I’ve felt a lot of judgement about him. I have been feeling melancholy since Sunday morning and have also been wrestling with thoughts about him, being patient, waiting for his story to unfold. This morning, as I searched again for a record of his death- an obituary, death certificate, newspaper article-anything to prove where and when he’d died, I felt his frustration with me.

He’s dead. That’s not his story.

He died while fishing with his son. I thought that was his story, or the story I’d tell.

“Just tell it, Betsy!”

How do you come to terms with the feelings of regret even they are someone else’s? How do you tell the truth about someone when it doesn’t sound so nice?

I honestly felt (feel) him pleading with me to lay it out there even though it sounds like a judgement. Why? Because there’s a lesson? Because he needs freedom? Or is it all about me?

Help me as I let it unfold while I telling you what I know.

Edward is a very hard nut to crack. He seems to have been an only child. The 1890 census was destroyed in a fire in 1921, so I can’t tell if there were more children born to Thomas and Estelle Kelley. Estelle died in 1899 before the 1900 census where I would have searched for the two columns, “number of children”, and “number of living children” and learned more about Edward as a teenager.

So, I’m left with a few records and one story- the recollection my mother had of him dying while on a fishing trip, something he did often (fishing not dying) with his son.

I’ve tried to focus on what type of person it takes to be a stock broker on Wall Street, and what it would mean to lose a child and all of your material wealth a few times during your lifetime, managing to rebuild it from scratch. That’s part of who he was. I don’t know what drove him. But I feel like he was very driven to succeed materially above everything else. I’m okay being wrong about that. Those are just feelings I get when I look at his picture, review his life, and sit and ponder.

But I keep going back to the fishing trip. His time was up and he didn’t know it.  His life had been lived. And the spirit of his life was passed down in that story.

Right now the feeling I get is that the truth of who he really was isn’t what really matters. What matters is what we leave-  the essence of who we have been to the people whose paths we’ve crossed while we were living. Edward may have left contradictory stories and memories with family and friends. But the one that I feel like he regrets the most is the impression he left of being stressed out, type A, difficult, and somewhat stern. Not pleasant.

Is that the truth? I think it is in part.

Does it really matter what made him that way? Sure. But understanding him doesn’t give him back moments of time where he had choices to leave a legacy of joy, contentment and happiness.

I know that Edward has moved past those regrets-the ones where the relationship with his son and wife may have been strained.

But, I’m alive right now, wondering why he won’t leave me alone.

Maybe it’s the kind of day where you trust that the stuff that you think matters and is weighing you down because it has to get done, isn’t the stuff that matters at all. Maybe it’s the kind of day where you know we’re all doing the best we can and love shines through regardless of how imperfectly we think we’re interacting with those who matter most to us.

Today might be the day to forgive those we love as well as ourselves for not measuring up to impossible expectations.

Perhaps it’s the perfect day to take the walk that my 6-yr-old Kenny asks me to take all of the time- the one “to nowhere, for no reason.” And while walking I’ll tell Edward thank you for doing the best he could and for inspiring me to look at my emotions and how they influence those I love for good and bad. Just a thought.

The sun’s out.

Thank you Edward. I got it.

What about you? Do you live in such a way that the legacy you leave is the one you deliberately choose? Will it be one of a positive influence? How do you make that shift?

Family History Sunday Series 1:9 Lessons From Geese:Find Your Flock

 

There’s a rejuvenating, empowering energy in groups where people share a common vision or passion. I can be quite reserved and introspective. For years I hung out in dance studios and art rooms, doing my thing. Neither required much talking, but there was massive communication going on. I always knew that I’d learn something by being around people who were learning and creating. I’ve always needed that balance between isolation where my ideas are born and community where they are challenged to grow.

This week find a Family History Center near you to drop in on, visit your local genealogical society, or search for genealogy/family history related blogs on Twitter. Make a phone call to some relatives and ask about an ancestor. Get around some people who can inspire you.

That’s what’s on my mind today. That’s it.

Get out of your comfort zone and find your flock.

I Ain’t No Mind Reader!

Thursday night was painful. At least it started out that way. You know that feeling of being brain-dead and tongue-tied while someone has just professed their undying confusion and their eyes are pleading with you to fix their problem, but all you want to say is, “You lost me at ‘Hello'”?

What do YOU do?

I smile and silently pray my guts out that we both don’t go careening over the embankment into the “She Has No Idea What She’s Doing” ditch. It works every time, as long as I keep asking questions. But not too many. That could be annoying. It’s a slippery slope.

Here’s what I learned. You are confused. Family history/genealogy can seem overwhelming, especially for us older folks who resisted technology until we couldn’t any more, and are in the process of rewiring the circuits in our brains- the ones that come with the newer models like my 10-year-old daughter who can see the same Facebook game that I see for the first time and knows immediately how to play it, whereas I feel like all of my clicking is going to make something REALLY bad happen.

Second thing I found out about myself? As good a listener and smiler as I might profess to be, I ain’t no mind reader! And I’m not on speaking terms with Alexander who “knows all”, or Zoltar , his brother, which I established in a previous post.

And neither is your computer. If you are going to enjoy genealogy and family history you have to know what you can find to help you on the Internet and what you can’t.

Not everything about a person’s life will be searchable on the WorldWideWeb (unless you blogged about it or added it to LegacyStories.org). I might be able to find out when someone came to America, but not when the tooth fairy collected her first installment of baby teeth from my 4th great grandfather. And that’s important to know!

It took about 10 minutes with each patron to get an idea of what they were seeing when they thought of genealogy so that I could give them a new picture, one that made sense and would never confuse them. Honestly, I felt like I was cutting new paths in the Amazon Rain Forest.

One had gaps in his ancestor’s lives that he wanted to fill with facts. Facts from documents. Facts from documents that may or may not be digitized or put on the Internet, yet. He had to figure out not only what his question was, like, “How can I find my great grandparents?”, or, “Did they own land in the 1800’s?”, but he also had to have a basic understanding of how to map a life and know what type of document would have the answers he was looking for.

I’ve said it before, but here goes again. Timelines. You can read and return. I’ll wait. Once he understood, his searching was a piece of cake. (Exaggeration!)

The other man was dealing with overwhelm. Well-meaning people had given him software that was taking too much of his time to figure out and was leaving him too tired to focus on what mattered to him.

While sitting and talking with him I felt a quiet desperation. When he walked in the door at the beginning of his session I heard him say, “I’m confused, overwhelmed, and disorganized.” Most of us, when faced with those feelings get in our figurative car and drive in the other direction. But he also said ,”I need help. I want to leave something for my children when I’m gone.”

THAT was the motivator. That was the goal. THAT was what I kept bringing him back to when I knew his brain was on overload. We agreed that he needed to simplify and focus on writing his ancestors’ stories sooner than later. And he had to remember to share his works-in-progress, whether it be a family tree or a story.

I showed him LegacyStories.org where he could create his own family tree website to share with family and friends NOW. He would have to learn how to upload a Gedcom file and I promised to help. I showed him my dad’s talking photo and explained how all of his could be scanned and shared, too.  He agreed and was quite relieved to recommit to his main objective of being able to leave something behind that would matter to his family.

I was so happy for him. He’d reached out for some help and had actually helped me! It’s easy for me to get overwhelmed by people’s confusion and to forget that I’m pretty simple-minded…in a good way.

I’m so thrilled that I can’t read your mind, and I’m more than happy to declutter and refocus yours if you want!