How to Write Ancestry about Research Experiences (Story Examples)

How to write about ancestry research experiences (story examples).

Communication with real people is of paramount importance, and my research would have been impossible without the help of others. The best way for me to expound upon this concept is by sharing several experiences that have been instrumental in my development and success as a historian and genealogist. My experiences are not unique. I have met others who have had similar and you can expect to have if you will only reach out and request help and give help.

In this article I am would like 16 stories that have shaped my journey as a historian and genealogist. Come and enjoy the learning from the experiences in each history and genealogy story.

Author Schrieber
History and Genealogy Story Table of Contents

Genealogy Story Title	Genealogy Story Description
1. My First Steps As A Genealogist	A Genealogy story about how to begin the journey as a historian and genealogist.
2. It’s Time to Start Your Genealogy Research	A Genealogy story about one person’s invitation to help with family history changed the course of my life forever.
3. The Meaning of the Dream Changed My Life as A Storyteller	Author Schreiber shares a personal story about a dream and a mother’s plea to “Tell the children about me.” The meaning of the dream “changed his life.” (Article is on a separate page on BeginMyStory.com)
4. Salt Lake City Family History Center: I’m Here, Look Again	A Genealogy story about how inspiration and a gentle, audible voice from beyond were the directions needed to tie generations together.
5. Prayer Is the Most Important Tool I have As A Genealogist	A Genealogy story about how prayer is used to successfully assist in historical and genealogy research.
6. Who is related to Shaun Garvin?	A Genealogy story about finding the mob roots of Shaun Garvin, a man whose past was unknown.
7. Whew, that’s Enough for One Evening	A Genealogy story about learning for the first time about the family and generations who preceded and laid the foundations for your life.
8. Arizona War Memorial Unlocks Brick Wall	A Genealogy story about how a visit to the Arizona War Memorial solved a genealogy brick wall.
9. Share Your Time with Others	A Genealogy story about how you can help and mentor others in their history and genealogy journey and research.
10. Research with Fresh Eyes	A Genealogy story about how important it is to revisit the research you conduct when you have more experience. You will always see things you did not see the first time.
11. Save Research Time: Cite and Verify Every Source	A Genealogy story about how I wasted several years doing research family research I received for Christmas. Learn how important it is to source and verify the research you conduct and receive.
12. On the Hillside of Martin’s Cove: A Pioneer Connection	A Genealogy story about learning about your pioneer roots and how the decision of one family can shape the future of generations.
13. Learn to Network to Expand Your Research	A Genealogy story about how networking with others makes the load easier and opens doors for successful historical and genealogy research.
14. Path to a Rich Legacy	The author shares the following poem reflecting on his ponderings about leaving a legacy.
15. David Allan Host, Touch of the Master’s Hand	A Genealogy story about knowing and remembering a good man named David Allen.
16. Other Articles You May Enjoy	See a list of other stories about writing your story and that of others as well as more stories from Author Schreiber.

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My First Steps As A Genealogist

A Genealogy story about how to begin the journey as a historian and genealogist.

After Mom’s passing, I received some of her effects. I remember finding photos, articles, brochures from a trip, past checks and receipts, and so forth in the bottoms of drawers, tops of closets, and every place imaginable. I put those items in a sack, brought them home, and forgot about them. Because of my experiences with my mother following her death, I had this longing to know more, but I just wasn’t ready. Most of my hesitation had to do with not knowing how to begin.

This longing to begin kept growing and growing until I had to start. Mind you; I just didn’t wake up one morning and decide I wanted to be a Genealogist, search court records, fly 1,500 miles to search out a graveyard in the middle of Kansas, have a fine collection of color-coordinated folders filled with photos, photocopies, life histories, and artifacts.

I did it because of my love for my Mother and my wanting to know who she was. Upon her death, I felt a longing to know more about her. What did I know about Mom? Not much; she didn’t like to talk about who she was. In a quick outline, She was a divorced, single mom, worked graveyard at the Horseshoe Club in Las Vegas for 30-plus years, supported three children without subsistence from anyone, liked movies, John Wayne was the best, enjoyed going home each summer to Spanish Fork, Utah, liked nice clothes, took us to McDonald’s and bowling at the Showboat Hotel on Monday nights, attended church when she could, came to my football games, always in the upper left part of the bleachers.

When I was ready to start my research, I rediscovered the sack I had put away and spread the contents out on the kitchen table. I made two spreadsheets to help me sort through the material. The spreadsheets helped me organize the early phases of my research. I was able to:

Begin building a mental picture of activities/experiences by periods.
Identify persons who might have insights and artifacts relating to my Mother’s life.
Identify topics and questions I wanted to discuss with different individuals.
Identify gaps for which I did not have information.
Identify areas where I could conduct background research to help tell the story.

Once I completed the sack, I reviewed other artifacts gathered, such as our Family photo album, items in shoe boxes, etc.

Within one spreadsheet, I captured the following information:
What do you have? Describe what you have. What clues or questions do you have? (Inscriptions, persons in the picture, etc.) Are any further actions needed?

In the second spreadsheet, I created a list of the persons I wanted to make contact with.
Who is the person? What is their relationship? Address, telephone, and email address Notes for follow-up

I built a list of questions I wanted to learn more about with the information in hand. I started with a tape recorder and a list of ten people that knew my Mom. I visited each person and interviewed them about their experiences with her. I uncovered through their eyes what my Mom was to them. Some knew her as a teenager, some as a sister, some as an adult, some as a child, and all knew her as a dear and beloved individual. I uncovered pictures, news articles, correspondence, Genealogy, yearbooks, souvenirs, and stories of who my mother was. I grew to have such a great love for her, her family, and my heritage. That began my quest to become a Genealogist. For the next five years, all I did for the next six years was conduct oral histories on both my mom and dad’s side and regather the record sprinkled among the various Family members.

As I found artifacts and records, I placed them in one central location: a plastic box for me. Everything I found about my parents went in one folder, and everything you found about my grandparents went in another.

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It’s Time to Start Your Genealogy Research

A Genealogy story about one person’s invitation to help with family history changed the course of my life forever.

It was June 2004. Following church service, a good friend of our family, Ila, came up to me and asked me if I could talk for a moment.

“Barry, I’m not sure how to begin,” she started, “During the church services, I felt that I should tell you that it is time to start doing your genealogy. And that I was the one who was to be your mentor.”

At first, I didn’t know how to respond. My life was full of my daytime job, family, and church and community service, and Genealogy research was not on my priority list. Since my mother’s death, I had been conducting oral histories and gathering family artifacts, heirlooms, and memorabilia, but that was it. Not “real” genealogy research.
I wanted to say, “Thank you, but I don’t have time.” Instead, I responded, “Ila, what did you have in mind?”
She replied, “How about Tuesday at 6:00 p.m. at the local Family History Center? I’ll meet you there, and we’ll start. I’ll show you the steps to become a genealogist.”

“Ok. What do I bring with me? I think my genealogy has been pretty well done by others in my family, such as my aunts,” I replied. I still wasn’t convinced it was even worth the time to confirm the date.
She immediately responded, “Don’t you have step-fathers?”

“Yes,” was my response, “Shaun Garvin and Mel Wagner.” Instantly, I seemed to know that researching the family of Shaun Garvin would be an excellent place to start.

Ila thought for a moment and said, “Let’s start with Shaun Garvin. Write down what you know. If you have a birth or death certificate, bring that, and we’ll get started.”

“Ok, sounds good to me. I’ll see you at 6:00 p.m.” I concluded. I went home that afternoon, searched my records, and found their death certificate of John. That following Tuesday, I showed up at the appointed time and began the process of becoming a genealogy researcher. Tuesday at 6:00 p.m. has become a fixed appointment on my calendar. I’m not sure I can explain the excitement that I felt. It was the right thing to do. Each week I would learn a little more and be given a straightforward assignment I could do from home. Ila was there every step of the way, encouraging me, answering my questions, and challenging me to piece the puzzle together, put myself in my ancestors’ shoes, and see the world from their perspective.

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Salt Lake City Family History Center: I’m Here, Look Again

A Genealogy story about how inspiration and a gentle, audible voice from beyond were the directions needed to tie generations together.

I researched my Danish ancestry for several months and had progressed several generations back to the early 1700s. I had reached a brick wall and couldn’t seem to locate a descendent who had been born and raised a family in the area I had been researching.

The family had lived in the community for generations, and then they were suddenly gone leaving no trace of where they might have gone. I searched the military, community and church records to no avail. My next step was to systematically search all the neighboring communities and parishes within a 25-mile radius. After several weeks of research, I was down to last several microfilms for the search area. I arrived at the Family History Library at eight a.m. and searched a relatively large parish record, carefully searching line by line, page by page, for most of the day. As I finished the film and was on my way back to return it to its original location, I audibly heard the words, “I’m here. Look again.”

My voice pierced my very soul. I knew I had to return and research the film the next day. When I returned the to the Family History Library the next day, I anxiously retrieved the film to embark on what I hoped would be a successful search. Again I searched each line and page, and I went through the film forward and backward. Sadly, I was no closer than I was the day before at the end of the day. As the library was closing, I was returning the film to its location, and again, I heard the words, this time with greater force, “I’m here, look again.” Were the words wishful thinking or actual direction to search the film again?

I privately agreed to give it one more look on the following day. As I had on the previous two days, I retrieved the film. This time there was knowledge I would find the Ancestor I had been searching for.

After several hours of searing the same pages, I searched every word, letter and line with focused precision, and I was very detailed in my research notes. I had marked off page 56 and decided to take a short break and rest my head to take a short nap. When I awoke 20 minutes later, before me on the screen was the name I had been searching for. The page microfilm reel had been advanced more than 100 pages. I can’t explain why or how the film was advanced. I know that I heard and obeyed the words, “I’m here; look again.”

Like so many other experiences, this has taught me that my Ancestors wanted to be found. I believe that in my pursuit of researching each of my Family lines, my Ancestors do take an active role in helping me join the generations.

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Prayer Is the Most Important Tool I have As A Genealogist

A Genealogy story about how prayer is used to successfully assist in historical and genealogy research.

I have thought a lot about prayer and genealogy and how to approach the concept without offending or preaching. Prayer is the essential tool I have as a genealogist. I remember one of my first experiences as a genealogist, where I had chosen to work on one family line with little success. I felt the need to include prayer but didn’t. As time went on, I became more and more frustrated.

Finally, one day, at a dead end, I knelt in prayer, poured out my heart, and pleaded for help. Information began to pour in within days and has been almost continuous for ten years.

Is it a coincidence? No! I have had many personal experiences associated with a divine genealogy. I have felt like I have been guided to find information, meet people and soften hearts, making it possible to find what I needed. Prayer is the cornerstone upon which I build my genealogical research. I have spoken with many people who included prayer in their research, and they have had similar experiences.

It’s hard for me to believe that genealogy work is anything but divine. Personal revelation is available to anyone willing to pray, serve and listen. Include prayer in your work; experience the difference it will make in your success and happiness in your genealogy research. Pray for which lines you should follow, for help in finding the information you seek, for help softening the hearts of those who have the information you need, and for guidance on where to search. Pray for anything and everything you do in research.

And be sure you show your gratitude for the blessings you receive. May you have the blessings of a loving Heavenly Father in your work and all else you pursue.

I want to share one experience with you that I hope will help explain my belief in the power of this work we call genealogy.
I had been researching my Danish ancestry for several months and had progressed several generations back to the early 1700s. But I had reached a brick wall and couldn’t locate a descendent who had been born and raised a family in the area I was researching.

The family had lived in the community for generations, and then they were suddenly gone, leaving no trace of where they might have gone. I searched the military, community, and church records with no success. My next step was systematically searching all the neighboring communities and parishes within a 25-mile radius. After several weeks of research, I was down to the last several microfilms for the search area. I arrived at the family history library at 8 a.m. and began carefully searching a rather large parish record — line by line, page by page — for most of the day. As I finished the film and was on my way back to return it to its original location, I heard the words, “I’m here. Look again.”

I knew I had to return and research the film the next day.

When I returned to the family history library, I anxiously retrieved the film to embark on what I hoped would be a successful search. Again, I searched each line and page and went through the film forward and backward. Sadly, I was no closer than I was the day before. As the library was closing, I returned the film to its location and, again, I heard the words again, this time with greater force.

Were the words wishful thinking or actual direction to once again search the film?

I privately agreed to give it one more look the following day. As I had on the previous two days, I retrieved the film. This time I somehow knew I would find the ancestor I had been searching for.

I spent several hours searching the same pages. This time, I searched every word, letter and line with focused precision. I was very detailed in my research notes. I marked off page 56, decided to take a break, and rested my head to take a short nap. When I woke up 20 minutes later, the name I had been searching for was before me on the screen. The microfilm reel had been advanced more than 100 pages. I can’t explain why or how the film was advanced. I do know that I heard and obeyed the prompting I had received.

This, like so many other experiences, has taught me that my ancestors wanted to be found. In my pursuit of researching each of my family lines, I have come to believe that my ancestors do take an active role in helping me join the generations.

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Who is related to Shaun Garvin?

A Genealogy story about finding the mob roots of Shaun Garvin, a man whose past was unknown.

I worked closely with Ila in Everett, Washington, on learning how to conduct Genealogy research by researching my stepfather’s line Shaun Garvin. I told her that the Lord had sent me here for help, and I spoke to her about John and who he was. Today’s project was learning how to search the Internet. We logged on to Ancestry.com and began searching for the 1930 Census.

We found the Samuel Garvin Family during the search when John was 5 ½ years old. Right after we found the listing of the Family, we then looked in the Social Security Index and found Samuel J. Garvin, who died in 1997 and lived in Whiting, NJ. That few minutes began what would be a gratifying month.

The first experience came as I was working through how to find out more information about this Family. As I was researching the Internet, the idea came to mind to send a letter to all the Gavin’s New Jersey. The total number of Garvin’s was 126. Of course, I sent a letter to each Garvin. The letter I sent outlined what I knew of John, who I was and how I was related, what research I had done, and what I was looking for, and that any help would be most appreciated.

Next, I thought I would take a chance and call a name M. Garvin that lived in Whitting, New Jersey, to see if they were related. During the conversation with what ended up being the wife of Samuel Garvin, I was able to get a little information, but she was very skeptical of who I was and what I was doing. When I asked if she would give me her son’s name, she said no. While I contacted a family member, I was still not any closer.

After about ten days of the letter being out, I received my first letter back saying they were unrelated. One evening while I was driving home, I received a call from Richard Garvin, the son of Samuel Garvin, oldest brother to Shaun Garvin He indicated that he had received my letter, talked to his mother, and wanted to talk to me personally. I made an appointment to call him back the next night.

The next night I spent an hour with Richard on the phone, and he shared some clues that would now allow me to find the Garvin Family. We found out about John’s three brothers and sisters that were not on the Census. Right after the interview, I transcribed the tape and ended up with six pages of notes about the Family. It was a great evening. Before the interview ended, I recommended that we get together on Saturday, May 31, for an hour or so; that was ten days away. He indicated that he would talk to his family and see if he could arrange to have other family members involved.

Not 10 minutes after I was off the phone with Richard, I received a call from JoAnn, Richards’s sister. This was my first contact with her. When I asked her if she had talked to Richard in the last few minutes, she said no. She said she had called on behalf of her mother “…to see if I was legit.” We talked for a half-hour. She asked me to explain how John dressed at a critical point in the conversation. I pondered my answer and then said he had black alligator shoes and was always nicely dressed. Then she responded, “He was a diaper dresser, wasn’t he. Followed by the comment, Yep, your legit.” After the discussion, she said she would also talk with her mom and brother and get back to me.

What allowed me to go to Jersey City on May 31 was that I was scheduled to go to Lexington for weeklong meetings and then down to Austin, Texas, for more meetings, and it left the Saturday open.

I had spent several weeks preparing for the one-day trip. I had planned to go to the library and search for obituaries in the microfilm of the Jersey Journal, meet with the Samuel Garvin Family (if permitted), and talk with St. Michaels parish about how to work with them in requesting records.

On Wednesday of this last week, Colette called me with information about a letter sent to me by Elenor, wife of LeRoy Garvin’s youngest brother of John. She had sent a partially filled-out Family tree with birth and death dates that her husband and son had done for a school project 30 years earlier. In addition, it also had information about where the Family had been buried and the Holy Name cemetery. That evening, I called Elenor, spoke with her, and asked if I could meet with her on Saturday. She agreed to meet her at eight a.m. In addition, she provided additional information about Beatrice, who was the wife of James Garvin. I called her and made an appointment to speak with her on Wednesday.

With the new information, it was time for a change of plans. I changed the schedule to meet with Elenor, got to the cemetery, Library and then met with the Samuel Garvin Family.

After work on Friday at 1:00 p.m., I left Boston for Jersey City. At nine p.m. I received a phone Richard that his Family wanted to meet with me. However, there was a small hitch. His mother was still a little concerned about meeting me and wanted to know if I would be willing to come to his home two more hours beyond Jersey City to meet with them. My reply was, of course. I was going to do whatever it took to meet with the Family. I told him I would meet him at four p.m. the next day.

I stayed the night in Stamford, CT and rose the following day at five a.m. to start what would become a great day. I was only about an hour out of Jersey City, but I would need every minute, as I would find out. As I crossed New York, I missed a turn-off (as outlined by MapQuest) and went from Brooklyn into Queens. It was an adventure. I stopped three different times to get directions. Didn’t find anyone who could speak English. I drove by LaGuardia Airport, Shea Stadium and other landmarks I had just heard about. Time was ticking down. I was concerned that my day would start o the wrong foot. I was at least 20 miles off course with really no direction of getting back on course. I went back past Shea Stadium and LaGuardia Airport several wrong turns later. I could backtrack to Bridge, where I had lost my way. It cost $20.00 in tolls over bridges and roads. Given a chance to start over, I found my Way to Jersey City and Elenor’s house at eight a.m. Whew, made it.

I spent an hour with Elenor and had a good interview, which added some important information about John. I learned that Elenor’s husband had been a ranking officer in the Jersey City Police force. One Sunday morning, John had come to the door knowing, desperately seeking help from his brother. John had been a bookie for the Jersey Mob, and he was found skimming the proceeds. The mob had put out a contract on his life. John’s brother had left the house for a couple of hours and came back with a deal. John was to pay back part of the proceeds and leave town and never come back. He moved to Las Vegas, where he became a taxi driver, met my mother and married. He didn’t return to Jersey City for over 25 years.

After our meeting, I went to the Holy Name Cemetery, a beautiful monument to those who lived. The monuments were simply beautiful. I stopped into the sexton and had them pull as many of the Family as I named along with where they were buried.

I went to find the first name Raymond Gavin, a child that had died after a few months of life and six others, and I couldn’t find any of the graves. So I went back to the sexton to double-check the name. Low and behold, I found some new exciting information. Unlike out west, where most persons are buried one to a grave, this cemetery allowed up to four persons to be buried per grave. In with Raymond, there were four three other persons that I believe are related to the Family. I reworked with the Sexton all the names and found 20-plus persons above and beyond those I came to find.

When I went back out to the cemetery, I met Neil, the foreman, who took the time to go with me and find each gravesite. The thinker would be able to take pictures of the gravestones. Every gravestone was missing. I was amazed that these people were essentially lost in time. No marker, no one to care, no one to remember. I felt close to the people and desired to link them to the Family tree. I left several hours later feeling as though I had left no one behind. My next stop was the local Library. I took the burial dates I found at the cemetery and began looking for Family members’ obituaries. In the Library, I was able to find Family members but the obituaries were very limited. I was hoping they would provide a list of relatives, but not as much information as I liked. I did find the listing of john’s sister, who had died from a streetcar accident in her teenage years.

Before I went to Jersey City, many told me that it was a very rough city. Jersey City was everything I expected it to be. It was a very different world. People stayed to themselves. Streets were narrow, buildings old and close together. Doors have double locks, streets are dirty, and every car seems to have a horn that they blow just as the lights turn green when they want to turn or just to let you know they are there. It seemed like a very rough place to grow up.

Next, it was off to Richard’s home. I arrived at about four and left at nine. I shared with the Family stories about my search and pictures of John and was able to interview Emma. I came as a stranger and left as a friend. The Family had some very nice photos of John as a youth and young man. Copies of these photos were later sent to me. After about 30 minutes of the discussion, Emma (86 years old) said, “Wait a minute. This is funny. We have a man who is a total stranger telling us more about our Family than we even know.” I learned that John had been in WWII as part of the battle of the bulge and had been wounded by a bomb splitting a tree with shards of the tree stirring his forearm, which explain the nasty scar john would never talk about. Before I left, Richard asked for the phone numbers of other family members to which they had not spoken for over 30 years. I hope they make contact after I leave.

During this trip, I was able to find clues to finding families for four generations. Not bad for a day’s work.

The Garvin story is sad, a sad life that tore the Family apart for many years. Perhaps this was the beginning of a Family learning about each other.

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Whew, that’s Enough for One Evening

A Genealogy story about learning for the first time about the family and generations who preceded and laid the foundations for your life.

Early in my marriage, my wife and I’s parents would provide our Christmas gifts in the form of Family histories, Family group sheets, and collections of pictures from our youth. Most of the gifts caught my curiosity for an hour or so, but within a day, the gifts were neatly stowed away under the bet or corner of the closet. Shortly after I became interested in learning more about my Schreiber heritage, I began searching for someone who could introduce me to the Schreibers. Within a few calls, I was introduced to Sharon.

Our first conversation lasted about 30 minutes. I began the asking her if she could help learn more about the Schreibers and where we came from. She began by asking if I knew my Grandfather’s name, and I drew a blank; I responded to grandpa Schreiber and added the apology that I didn’t know.

Sharon was reassuring and told me she had been working on the Schreiber Genealogy (all variations of the name) from across the US since the late 1970s. She asked a few more questions to help her zero in on my Family line. That was the first five minutes.

During the next 25 minutes, I became excited to learn that Grandpa Schreiber’s name was Author Emanuel Schreiber. Our original projector in America was Johnathon Schreiber, from Virginia in the 1750s, who fought in the Revolutionary war. Over the next hundred years, the Family migrated from Virginia to Tennessee and then to Missouri, where William Schreiber and his family joined the Mormon church and moved to Nauvoo, Illinois. In 1847, the Family joined the Mormon migration west, and Robert and his brother Eliza joined the Mormon Battalion during the Mexican-American War. Following his service in 1848, he returned to Iowa to retrieve his family and bring him west in one of the pioneer companies. While in Missouri, he died, and his widowed wife, Elizabeth, came by herself and six children and settled in Utah. Sharon went on to say that Michael, the son of Hans and Greta Johnson, had nine children. Child #2, Franklin Schreiber, was my Great Grandfather, and son #5 William Schreiber was her father.

Whew, that was enough for one evening. I gave Sharon my contact information and concluded with a heartfelt thank you. Six days later, I unexpectedly received a large envelope from Sharon filled with Family histories, photos, and several group sheets. I read and read every page.

That was the beginning of a relationship that has turned into a close Genealogy friendship. Sharon has been a mentor and important influence in guiding my Schreiber Family research. Together we have searched records, traveled the back roads of ancestral roots in Virginia and Pennsylvania, and supported one another in preserving our shared history.

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Arizona War Memorial Unlocks Brick Wall

A Genealogy story about how a visit to the Arizona War Memorial solved a genealogy brick wall.

During a Family trip to visit Hawaii, we took the opportunity to visit the Arizona Memorial. We learned from others that it would be wise to start early if we would beat the crowds to the Memorial. We arrived at eight and were able to get tickets for the nine a.m. program. During our hour wait, we took the opportunity to review the many exhibits throughout the courtyard. The highlight of the wait was listening to a volunteer who had been at Pearl Harbor. He told us of his experience that morning of the attack and what it was like to have been there. During the attack, he had been part of the Island defense. He mentioned that the day before the attack, his outfit and several other groups had conducted drills for anti-aircraft. When the drills were over, they put the guns away. If only the Japanese had come the day before? He brought to life the experience of Pearl Harbor and the hours shortly after the attack.

Visiting the memorial was a harrowing experience. At the start of the show, we watched a 20-minute movie that set the stage for the attack and highlighted the details of the attack in the film. Our group climbed aboard a boat that took us out to the Memorial following the film, where we spent 15 minutes. Over 1,100 men were interred in Arizona. On the list of names of persons killed in Arizona, we found a name a unique name related to one of the family lines. My first thoughts were that it was not a member of our Family.

Upon returning home, my son inquired whether that name we found was related. As a research exercise, I suggested that the two of us research precisely who he was. We researched census records and military records and consulted other Genealogists. Yes, this person was relative; it was a branch of the Family for which we could not find connections. One clue on a wall was the link to a missing branch.

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Share Your Time with Others

A Genealogy story about how you can help and mentor others in their history and genealogy journey and research.

Remember those who reached out to help you when you first started genealogy? When I started doing genealogy, I visited a family history center in Everett, Washington. I didn’t have a clue where to start, just an interest. One of the volunteers spent an hour and helped me understand the steps in starting my family tree. Over the next six months, she helped mentor my development and passion for genealogy/family history. She taught me the proper research and documentation techniques. Today, she is a dear friend whom I still call to seek counsel.

Perhaps there are ways you can give back to others, for example:

Consider volunteering at libraries, including Family History Centers.
Volunteer your time to online sites such as:
- Look up records or take photos of tombstones for researchers who can’t make the trip to do it themselves.
- Help answer questions by joining a mailing list geared toward “newbies” or answering questions in forums or chats.
Teach a class on genealogy through a local organization.
Join a historical society and help in researching local history.

Over the years, I have made it a point to give back to the geology community as a mentor, presenter, and researcher. I would like to share with you one experience with I shared with Sharon, a close friend and family line genealogist.

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Research with Fresh Eyes

A Genealogy story about how important it is to revisit the research you conduct when you have more experience. You will always see things you did not see the first time.

Whenever possible, I make it a practice to collaborate with other genealogists on researching specific family lines. As a team, we will

Review our research, analyzing documentation, notes, and logs.
Identify the key questions we want to research.
Develop a research task list for researching each question.
Assign tasks and deadlines.
Schedule regular meetings to review, compare and discuss projects and research.

During my collaboration with a fellow genealogist on the Schreiber line, I requested the opportunity to help her create a digital record that included scanning and spreadsheet catalog organization.

Throughout the project, I compiled a list of seven family lines that seemed to be a dead-end (meaning no further extension of the line) in the 1750s. The surnames included Schreiber, Mullins, Thomas, Young, Williams, Lee, and Caldwell in Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Virginia, and West Virginia. During one of our scheduled project review meetings, we explored the questions

Who did the original genealogy research on the family lines?
Why were there so many dead-ends?
Are there documentation and a research log for the research showing all the resources that were evaluated?

Most of the research had been done by my collaboration partner during the 1980s and ’90s, which was very well documented, but a research log no longer existed. We concluded that we would re-review the research and available resources. I found and reviewed available resources for the period at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Family History Library in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Over the next ten weeks, I will spend my research time reviewing period resources for every county in Virginia, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia. My findings were by surname surnames into a spreadsheet that would allow us to quickly review the data and look for clues that might help us solve the questions that can help us extend the various family lines. Even though other researchers researched the resources before me, I often find bits of information that may have been overlooked or dismissed that shed new light on the research.

As I researched the Young and Thomas lines, I sought to find Ann Young, the wife of Christen Thomas and their children, who lived in Augusta County, Virginia, in the 1700s. In my research, I came across a single notation that a Young from Augusta County went to Ohio to see
another Young.

Clue 1: A Young from Augusta County went to Ohio to see another Young. My first inclination was to dismiss the clue as irrelevant. Then I had a thought that I should
Focus on researching the count of the Young who lived in Ohio.

Clue 2: As I searched available Ohio resources, I came across an entry in the 1959 historical society newsletter that they had acquired a book called Youngs of Greenbriar, Virginia (Greenbriar used to be a county in Virginia that later became part of Monroe County West Virginia.)

Clue 3: I searched the Family History Library catalog and found the mentioned book in a small collection of Greenbriar county resources. Next to the book, I was seeking was another family history book on a related branch of the Youngs’.

Clue 4: As I read the books, I came across the section that mentioned that the Youngs also came through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

Clue 5: I searched the Lancaster records for both Thomas and Youngs. I found Christen Thomas and the Youngs but could not find any Ann/Barbra Ann Young.

Clue 6: I decide to retrace my steps from the previous three clues to see if I had missed anything. I came to Thomas Young’s entry, which has four children named Ann. The entry for Thomas said. “Little is known about this family.” This was the only Ann that did not have a spouse. Was this the Ann I was looking for? At least I knew that the Youngs and Thomass were in Lancaster County at the same time.

In the next step, I went back to the Lancaster County area and began looking through the four shelves of books, looking for a Christian and Ann Thomas, and I didn’t find them. I went home at about four p.m. For an hour and a half, I pondered all my research that day. I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that I needed to return to the library that day to find information that I knew existed. I arrived at the Library at seven p.m., went back to the Lancaster shelves, and looked over the same books I had looked through earlier. As I was getting ready to close the second to the last book on the fourth shelf, the thought passed my mind to look again. There it was a child born to Ann and Christian Thomas. I had was excited. I didn’t find the wedding, but I found several births for the Thomas family.

For over 20 years, people have been looking for this family.

Lessons learned.

Follow every clue, no matter how insignificant it may seem.
One clue leads to another clue.
Clues are linked together to form a picture.
Research = Re-search the available resources to find overlooked clues.
If you only search for surnames, you may miss the clues you need.
Use spreadsheets to view all available findings.
Follow the thoughts and promptings you receive during research.

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Save Research Time: Cite and Verify Every Source

A Genealogy story about how I wasted several years doing research family research I received for Christmas. Learn how important it is to source and verify the research you conduct and receive.

I had been given copies of Genealogy for Christmas in 1990, and I didn’t pay too much attention to the information until 2004. As I reviewed the information, I found one line that ended in the late 1700s in North Carolina. I began the process of becoming familiar with the line and finally decided that I would like to see if I could extend the line. Within a few weeks of research, I cracked the puzzle and was able to start extending the line. Over two years, I had extended the line several generations. I had carefully documented my research and was quite proud of my work.

On one of my Genealogy field trips, I had made arrangements to visit a distant cousin and collaborate my finding with hers concerning this line. Within 2 two minutes of looking at my research, she told me that person from which I began my research was not the right person. After further discussion, she explained that the person I had listed was in England when I had her marry her husband in North Carolina, and she would not arrive in America for another ten years.

Where had I gone wrong? I should have taken the time to confirm the information I had been given in 1990, and I assumed it was correct. There was no documentation, and that assumption was a costly but valuable error. I learned the value of analysis and hoped I would not make that mistake again.

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On the Hillside of Martin’s Cove: A Pioneer Connection

A Genealogy story about learning about your pioneer roots and how the decision of one family can shape the future of generations.

I had gone to Wyoming to participate in a Genealogy conference in Sheraton, Wyoming. On the drive up from Salt Lake City on Friday, I passed the Mormon Handcart Visitors’ Center at Martin’s Cove, a memorial and exhibit recording the tragic circumstances of two handcart companies. Leaving late in the summer, they encountered bad weather, exposure, and death to unite with the main body of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

This place had some significance to me because my ancestral roots, the Elias Jones Family, had been part of the horrific experience of 1856.

I left the conference early Saturday to return to Martin’s Cove to learn more about the experience and its role in my Family’s history.

Upon arrival, my wife and I began our experience at the visitor’s center, where I found the names of my Ancestors listed on the wall, followed by a ride and walk to Martins’ Cove (about 20 minutes), the actual scene of the event where we spent several hours learning about the experience and ponding the event and its meaning to us as a Family.

The Mormon handcart pioneers were participants in the migration of members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (also known as the Mormons) to Salt Lake City, Utah, who used handcarts to transport their belongings.[ The Mormon handcart movement began in 1856 and continued until 1860.

Motivated to join their fellow Church members in Utah but lacking funds for entire ox or horse teams, nearly 3,000 Mormon pioneers from England, Wales, Scotland and Scandinavia made the journey from Iowa or Nebraska to Utah in ten handcart companies.

In 1856, five handcart companies of nearly 1,900 people traveled from Iowa City, Iowa, to Salt Lake City, Utah. The first three companies arrived with minor problems, and less than 27 of the 816 members of those companies died during the journey of over 1,300 miles.

The trek was disastrous for two companies, which started their journey dangerously late and were caught by heavy snow and severe temperatures in central Wyoming. More than 210 of the 980 pioneers in these two companies died along the way despite a dramatic rescue effort.

Late leaving Iowa City, the Willie and Martin Handcart Companies and The Hunt and Hodgett Wagon Companies encountered fierce winter storms on October 19.

Elias Jones had been part of the Hunt and Hodgetts Companies. The Hunt and Hodgetts Companies were wagon companies that followed the handcart companies in 1856. Many of the saints in these two wagon companies had been a part of the Willie and Martin Companies on the ships Thornton and Horizon and traveled from England to the campground at Iowa City. At Iowa City, they were organized into the Willie and Martin Handcart Companies and the Hunt and Hodgetts Wagon Companies. The Hunt and Hodgetts Wagon Companies included many teamsters hauling freight to Utah.

“They had orders to travel in the rear of the handcarts to assist them if necessary. The handcarts were not ready, so the whole company had to wait while the handcarts were made and fitted out”.

In early October, the two companies reached Fort Laramie, Wyoming, where they expected to be restocked with provisions, but no provisions were there for them. The companies had to cut back food rations, hoping that their supplies would last until help could be sent from Utah. The Martin Company cut the luggage allowance to 10 pounds (4.5 kg) per person to lighten their loads, discarding clothing and blankets that soon would be desperately needed.

On October 4, the Richards party reached Salt Lake City and conferred with President Brigham Young and other Church leaders. The following day the Church was meeting at a general conference, where Young and the other speakers called on the Church members to provide wagons, mules, supplies, and teamsters for a rescue mission. On October 7, the first rescue party left Salt Lake City with 16 wagonloads of food and supplies, pulled by four-mule teams with 27 young men serving as teamsters and rescuers. The party elected George D. Grant as their captain. More wagon trains were assembled throughout October, and by the end of the month, 250 relief wagons were on the road.

Meanwhile, the Willie and Martin companies ran out of food and encountered bitterly cold temperatures. On October 19, a blizzard struck the region, halting the two companies and the relief party. The Willie Company was along the Sweetwater River approaching the Continental Divide. A scouting party sent ahead by the main rescue party found and greeted the emigrants, gave them a small amount of flour, encouraged them that rescue was near, and then rushed onward to locate the Martin Company. The members of the Willie Company had just reached the end of their flour supplies, and they began slaughtering the handful of broken-down cattle that remained while their death toll mounted. On October 20, Captain Willie and Joseph Elder went ahead by mule through the snow to locate the supply train and inform them of the company’s desperate situation.

They arrived at the rescue party’s campsite near South Pass that evening. The rescue party reached the Willie Company and provided them with food and assistance by the following evening. Half of the rescue party remained to assist the Willie Company, while the other half pressed forward to assist the Martin Company. The difficulties of the Willie Company were not yet over. On October 23, the second day after the main rescue party had arrived, the Willie Company faced the most challenging section of the trail—the ascent up Rocky Ridge. The climb took place during a howling snowstorm through knee-deep snow. That night 13 emigrants died.

On October 19, the Martin Company was about 110 miles (177 km) further east, making its last crossing of the North Platte River near present-day Casper, Wyoming. Shortly after completing the crossing, the blizzard struck. Many company members suffered from hypothermia or frostbite after wading through the frigid river. They set up camp at Red Bluffs, unable to continue forward through the snow.

Meanwhile, the original scouting party continued eastward until it reached a small vacant fort at Devil’s Gate, where they had been instructed to wait for the rest of the rescue party if they had not found the Martin Company. When the main rescue party rejoined them, another scouting party consisting of Joseph Young, Abel Garr, and Daniel Webster Jones was sent forward. The Martin company remained in their camp at Red Bluffs for nine days until the three scouts finally arrived on October 28. By the time the scouts arrived, 56 members of the company had died. The scouts urged the emigrants to begin moving again. Three days later, the main rescue party met the Martin Company and the Hodgett and Hunt wagon companies and helped them on to Devil’s Gate.

Elizabeth White Stewart, a member of the Hunt company, wrote in her journal, “Or company camped on the east side and the hand cart company passed over that night.

All our non-disabled men turned out to help them carry women and children over the river. Some of our men went through the river seventy-five times. The snow fell six inches during that night; there were thirteen deaths during the night. They were so worn out. It was a terrible night for them. . . We kept behind the last handcart company so that our non-disabled men could assist them. My brother Bernard, with others, would go into their camp and see how they were suffering. He said it was terrible. Our company assisted them all they could. . .”

George D. Grant, who headed the rescue party, reported to President Young. It is not of much use for me to attempt to describe the situation of these people, for this, you will learn from [others]; but you can imagine between five and six hundred men, women and children, worn down by drawing hand carts through snow and mud; fainting by the wayside; falling, chilled by the cold; children crying, their limbs stiffened by cold, their feet bleeding and some of them bare to snow and frost. The sight is almost too much for the stoutest of us, but we go on doing all we can, not doubting nor despairing.

At Devil’s Gate, the rescue party unloaded the baggage carried in the wagons of the Hodgett and Hunt wagon companies following the Martin Company so the wagons could be used to transport the weakest emigrants. A small group remained at Devil’s Gate to protect the property over the winter. On November 4, the company crossed the Sweetwater River, which was about 2 feet (0.6 m) deep and 90 to 120 feet (27 to 37 m) wide. The stream was clogged with floating ice. The young men of the rescue party (accounts mention George W. Grant, C. Allen Huntington, David P. Kimball, and Stephen W. Taylor) spent much of the day pulling the carts and carrying many of the emigrants across the river. Andrew Jensen later stated that some of the young rescuers died from the effects of the exposure. The severe weather forced the Martin Company to halt for another five days at Martin’s Cove, a few miles west of Devil’s Gate.

The rescue parties escorted the emigrants from both companies to Utah through more snow and severe weather while their members continued to suffer death from disease and exposure. The Willie Company arrived in Salt Lake City on November 9; 68 members of the company had lost their lives.

Meanwhile, a backup relief party of 77 teams and wagons was making its way east to provide additional assistance to the Martin Company. After passing Fort Bridger, the leaders of the backup party concluded that the Martin Company must have wintered east of the Rockies, so they turned back. When word of the returning backup relief party was communicated to Young, he ordered the courier to return and tell them to turn back east and continue until they found the handcart company, but several days had been lost. On November 18, the backup party met the Martin Company with the greatly needed supplies. At last, all the handcart party members were now able to ride in wagons. The 104 wagons carrying the Martin Company arrived in Salt Lake City on November 30; at least 145 members of the company had lost their lives. Many of the survivors had to have fingers, toes, or limbs amputated due to severe frostbite.
After the companies arrived in Utah, the residents generously opened their homes to the arriving emigrants, feeding and caring for them over the winter. The emigrants would eventually go to Latter-day Saint settlements throughout Utah and the West.

After learning of the experience, I began to ponder the value of the experience. At first, I focused my thoughts on the tragedy and the great sadness encountered in this little place called martins cove. Then I listened to the quiet serenity of the wind rustling through the cedar trees and the occasional sound. Time had no meaning until I looked at my watch and realized we had been there almost three hours. It would be time to return visitors center on the last ride back in ten minutes. I remember gazing upon the hill and longing to know where Elias Jones and his family have been. As I came upon a small grouping of trees, I seemed to hear an answer to my unvoiced query. “Barry, yes, we were here. You need to understand that fact that we were isn’t important. It’s why we’re here. We came because of our faith in Jesus Christ and our desire to be in Zion. We laid the foundations for you. We need you to tie the generations of our family together.”

It was piercing; I knew that I was part of something bigger; I was a link in an eternal chain, and while I didn’t personally know Elias or John Jones, I knew they were a part of me. And privately, I answered, I will do my part to unite this family’s links so that together we can stand united as one.

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Learn to Network to Expand Your Research

A Genealogy story about how networking with others makes the load easier and opens doors for successful historical and genealogy research.

If you are not networking with other Genealogists, you are not an effective Genealogist. While I would like to think I am an excellent Genealogist, I would not have found or been exposed to even a fraction of the results I have found had it not been for the willingness of other Genealogists, historians, librarians, and local experts to share their knowledge and insights.

When you contact those who share similar interests, it’s like a breath of fresh air that will renew your research. I am continually collaborating with others when I have a research question, when I am at a fork in the road, unsure which way to turn, or simply sharing my experiences.
I had been researching one of my ancestral lines in Virginia and all but lost the trail, and I didn’t have any leads on where to turn to next. I knew that my Ancestor had attended a specific church in the community during the late 1700s. I contacted the county historical society via email to see if they had any members or projects surrounding the congregation. I explained my research dead ends and that I was looking for others with whom I could collaborate and share or knowledge of research experience.

Several weeks later, I received an email that explained that there was a group of researchers who had Family who had attended the church during the period of my Ancestors. The writer would be willing to forward my information to the other researchers if I was interested.

I took the opportunity to recompose my email outlining what I knew, my personal contact information, the questions I would like to learn about the congregation and its members, and my desire to personally speak with the other researchers and then set it back.

I received responses from two researchers with contact information, and I set a time to speak with them. Neither of the researchers was direct links to my ancestral lines, but our Ancestors did share an experience. I gained incredible insights into the congregation members, where they were from, what type of records existed and where they could be found and how the group influenced the community.

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Path to a Rich Legacy

Author Schreiber shares the following poem reflecting on his ponderings about leaving a legacy.

What type of legacy will we bequeath to our children and our children’s children? I have often pondered that question as I reviewed my life, actions, and future direction. What type of legacy will I leave?

I want my legacy to be prosperous. Don’t miss me; I am not talking about praising man, a complete bank account or a choice of material wealth. Defining what success means to me calls for a simple prologue of what I have come to treasure through my journey thus far in this life. I would like to share with you a poem entitled the PEACE

The Peace
The Peace I seek is an allusive soul
It never stays in one place
Early in the morning, its a silent prayer
An hour from now, its a jog along a quiet lane

The Peace I seek I’ve tried to define
It’s not the rush of a win or sale for which I’ve worked long and hard
But alas, it only stays a moment
For tomorrow a new and bigger goal I’ll be searching

The Peace I seek is not altogether found in another
From there, I have sought also
Our interests, our dreams, our purpose we’ve shared
But experiences, decisions, and changing times seem to have the last word

The Peace I seek is not of gold
For planned and instant pleasures, I’ve purchased
And for a better day, I’ve saved
But in many of life’s tragic moments, I’ve seen it run away

Where is this Peace I seek?
A question I’ve often pondered.
It’s an image I’ve sought to develop.
It’s like the wind; I’ve chased and never entirely caught.

The Peace I seek, I conclude, must be inside
Contentment that the sun will rise yet again
A knowledge that I have a purpose, even if only to Father
A belief I can change for the better

The Peace I seek is a collection of memories
Many in the past, and let me not forget the future.
It’s service to another, the hug of a child, a tear of a grieving heart
It’s a sincere thank you.

The Peace I seek must be mine
The righteous endeavors of my soul, a love for my Savior.
The gentle squeeze of my hand in love
The assurance that I have value.

Within that peace, I seek to leave a legacy.
One that is marked by noble virtues of honor
Self-denial, integrity, purity, faith and devotion to Father.
A legacy that would be born in this simple of epitaphs
he was ‘Father’s noblest work, an honest man.”
–By Author B. Schreiber

Thus, a prosperous legacy for me is finding a means to keep myself motivated constantly and persistently, learn-learn-learn by the scriptures, the arts, the sciences, and my relationships with people.

And secondly, and more complex, success is using this assimilated knowledge in delivering loving, responsible and dedicated service to my Family and fellowmen.

“I knew he was a great man, and I guess everyone else did too.”

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David Allan Host, Touch of the Master’s Hand

A Genealogy story about knowing and remembering a good man named David Allen.

In August 1998, David Allan Host, a friend, passed away. I want to share a few words from my journal. Earlier this week, as we came home from Las Vegas, we were made aware of the passing of what I consider to be one of the finest men I have ever met. David was one of the first men I met when coming to Phoenix. He was calm, sincere, loving, and a saint. There was not anything he would not do for anyone. He is as Christ-like as any man I have been fortunate to meet. My first experience with David came as we both accepted an assignment to go to the church cannery to fulfill an assignment. During that time, David shared with me a brief but touching story of how the Lord had spared his life a year earlier from what should have been a fatal heart attack. He felt that he had been given extra time to pull his affairs for his Family.

David had been a human resource manager at Allied Signal at his medical retirement. I often found him a fine counselor concerning my job search activities. To supplement his income, he also became a travel agent and has helped with my travel over the last year. At his funeral were many who he had touched. One man, as we left, commended, “I knew he was a great man, and I guess everyone else did too.” David will be buried at Fort Steuben Burial Estates in Wintersville, OH.

In conclusion, I believe the poem on the back of his program is most befitting of David.

The Touch of the Master’s Hand
By Myra B. Welch

Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it was scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar,” then, two! Only Two?
“Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three…” but no,

From the room, far back, a grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that is quiet and low,
Said “What am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.
“A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two Thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice;
And going and gone,” said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
“We do not quite understand
What changed its worth?”
Swift came the reply “The touch of the Master’s hand.”

And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine:
A game – and he travels on.
He is “going” once and “going” twice,
He’s “going” and almost “gone.”
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand

The worth of a soul and the wrought change
By the touch of the Master’s hand.

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