It's All In The Genes

I am a history freak.  Not the American or World History kind.  Mention a war or a battle and my eyes will roll to the back of my head, right after they glaze over.  But if there is a story to be told about something from the past that concerns a person, house (or building), vehicle, piece of furniture or antiquities of just about any kind, I am ALL ears.  Going into an antique store is an absolute adventure as far as I'm concerned.  If all those objects could talk, I would sit and listen to their stories for days.  When I see sets of china or dining room tables, I envision the holiday dinners they have served.  Were they big and loud like my family is when we're all together or were they more quiet and reserved?  What conversations have they been privy to?  Were there any major life decisions made while sitting around that table?  When I see homemade quilts, I wonder about the hands that made them.  Were they pieced together by one or many?  For utility or pleasure?  What are the names of the people who have slept under them and what are their stories.  Houses are another obsession of mine.  Beautiful old "Painted Ladies", Georgians, Craftsmans or Bungalows.  It really doesn't matter what style.  They were built in a simpler time but with more craftsmanship in one door, than the houses built today have in their entire structure.  Real wood staircases complete with thick handcrafted newel posts and creaking stairs.  Hardwood floors that aren't pristine and polished to a shine, but wear their generations of battle scars proudly.  Each one of those scratches and gouges have a story that I would love to hear.  

As much as all of those anonymous items excite me, you can only imagine what happens when my own family history comes in to play.  Yes.  I am a Genealogy Junkie.  I have been a traditional "back to your roots" kind of person for as long as I can remember.  I value family above ALL else in this world, whether they are living or have already left this earth.  Even though I haven't met any of the people higher than about the 3rd branch of my family tree, I feel a distinct connection to them.  They are who I come from and I want to know their stories.  Each one of them have a birth date and a death date but that's not who they were.  There was a whole life in between those two entries.  I want to find out as much about that life as I can and record it so that I, and future generations, can know them as real people.

Back when the internet was still fairly new, Ancestry.Com was born.  As soon as I found out about the site, I joined.  Unfortunately, that was at the beginning of the digital age.  It didn't take too long to start running into walls.  You could input the information about the people you knew, but there was no documentation available, online at least, to speak of.  A marriage, birth, death, etc. could be entered but you would have to write a letter to the specific county (and pay) for a hard copy of that marriage/birth/death certificate.  Sometimes, you had to go there in person to fill out the form.  Not very conducive to filling out the branches of a family tree if you happen to live in a completely different county, much less state, than your ancestors did.  It could also get pretty costly, especially if you weren't completely sure about a name or date and needed several records for verification.  Needless to say, for the most part, I gave up.  

A few years later during a move, my Grandma came across a family bible that had several generations of people written in it.  That peaked my interest again, so I had her type all of the information out with names and dates.  She even gave me some original photos of a few of them.  I got back on my Ancestry account, but again started running into walls.  I got a little further than the first time but not much.  At that time my kids, and life in general, were keeping me extremely busy.  I put my research away once more, with the promise to pull it out when I could give it the attention it deserved.

Yep.  That time is now.  With my daughter attending the same college that many of my family members went to, in the same town that a good portion of my family lived, it was really only a matter of time.  The spark was ignited again, providing the perfect segue into my latest addiction.  (To which I lose HOURS of my day.)  

One day a few weeks ago, I gathered my coffee and my family history folder and logged onto my Ancestry account.  Right away, I knew this time would be different.  Somewhere along the way, my meager little tree that I had started years ago was deleted.  When I started rebuilding it, I was amazed.  I'm sure you've seen the commercials for Ancestry.Com where they talk about all the little "leaves" that pop up over a name when there is information on that person.  Holy Mother of All Jackpots!!  There were so many leaves waving at me, I didn't know where to click first.  I couldn't even begin to contain my excitement!  By the end of 2 weeks, I had added over 265 people to my tree.  I can tell you the name of my 5th Great Grandmother on my Grandma's side, and my 8th Great Grandmother on my Grandpa's side.  That is 10 generations including me.  10!!!  11 when you factor in my children.  But here is where it gets even more fascinating.  When I clicked on my Great Grandfather's leaf, there were photos attached to his name.  One of the photos was a family portrait that was taken (sometime before he was married in 1908) of he, his brother, his sisters and his father. I have the original in my possession so you can imagine how awestruck I was to see it floating around on the internet.  There was one of him inside the General Store that he owned. Another of he and my Great Grandma.  There was a picture of HIS Father and Grandfather.  And this was just the tip of the ice burg.  Marriage certificates and birth certificates and yearbook photos and newspaper articles.  The list goes on and on.  When I sit down to the computer these days, I enter a time warp and usually walk away hours later with a brain that is complete mush and a headache.  But I go right back to it the next day because I haven't even begun to scratch the surface.  Such is the life of an addict.  If there is an "Ancestry Anonymous" group, I don't want to know about it just yet.  But if I disappear for days at a time, someone should come check on me.  Or at least bring me more coffee. And maybe some Ibuprofen.  

My Great Grandfather, John L Wright (bottom left), his Father, Brother and Sisters