Read to the bottom for How to Use this Blog . I have been exploring genealogy since I was little, listening to all the stories told by Aunts Connie and Helena, Cousins Ann and Howie and Maurietta, Uncles Leonard and Arthur. There were m ore dead people in the stories than live ones, and they were lots more fun. This was way before it was anyone's hobby, when I was the only one who was interested. Sneaking into the Archives underage and running around graveyards. I was lost to the present, either reading books about Pilgrims or building stories in my head. Always asking, asking, asking. "How is he related to us? Who is their mother? What was her name, and her name, and her name? " While Aunt Anna said, "I don't want to find out anyone was arrested for stealing sheep." Now I find I know more stories about more people than anyone else. And I have more photos of other people's grandparents than anyone else, thanks to a mother who started taking pictures wh...
“Agathe! Come look!” Adam whispered, appearing at the bedchamber door of the small cottage where she was tucking in the children with prayers and kisses. She shook her head at him and he silently backed away. “What is it Mama? I want to see!” came a shrill little voice. “Sshh. Go to sleep,” was the firm command in return. Agathe tiptoed out of the dark room to the kitchen, lit only by the corner stove, and sank down on the bench. A chilly breeze shook her as Adam entered the cottage. “Look!” he whispered again. Feet planted on the floorstones, she sighed. “Look at what? I am sitting down. I haven’t sat down all day.” “I don’t know what it is. A star, maybe. It’s huge.” Agathe blew out her breath and stood heavily. Whatever the new thing was could not be worth having to get up after a full day, a full week, of harvesting wheat. But there would be no rest until Adam was answered. She pulled on her cloak and stepped thru the narrow doorway. It was worth it. The biggest o...