What I Wish I'd Known When I Got Started In Genealogy

A Trip Down Memory Lane

The major things I wish I had know when I got started in genealogy is:

1. To write everything down or record conversations with family members.  And when you write it down make sure to include every tidbit of information, the "Who", "What", "When", and " Where" answers to questions help a lot. And, to remember that any little hint about a person's life may come in handy at sometime or the other.

Now, the memories of riding down the road and visiting cemeteries with family members and listening to their stories of their family have faded with time and would help so much in putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

2. To realize that older family members do not live forever and their memories are invaluable and precious. They remember things that other members of the family may not recall.
I wish I had known my father-in-law's memory would decline so fast from Parkinson's and that my older family members would not be here to share their memories. I wish we had taken more time to spend just on the subject of our family roots and the generations that came before us.

3. That asking questions and getting to know family members would bring us closer.  And that along the way I would find other family members; "cousins" with a common interest and that we would become great friends because of this common interest in genealogy. Friends, kin by blood, that would help each other fill in the blanks in areas that we didn't know about our family...and, helping them to do the same.

4. That when you become the family genealogist that it is for the rest of your life.  This is your baby, to nurture, to care for and to insure that future generations know their family.  That this is your legacy to your children and grandchildren and all family members to remember the ones that came before them.

5. That all these memories of trips down memory lane are for a greater purpose.  That in some way or the other our ancestors' lives have touched our own. And that their memory would make them real, so real that tears have been shed for the lives that they lived.  That we had a lesson to learn from their lives, the trials and tribulations they went through to raise a family, and their children went on to raise a family, that eventually we became a part of that family.   That we would not be here if not for them.

Come along with me...I have stories to tell...let's take a trip down memory lane.

Memories of the Bogue Chitto River: A Fish Story

The Bogue Chitto River begins at Brookhaven, Mississippi and flows into the Pearl River below Bogalusa, Louisiana. The Choctaw Indians called the river,"bok chito", which roughly translated means “big creek.” To pronounce the river's name correctly, it would sound like " bow-guh chit-uh". 

When we were growing up, hot summer days were spent swimming in the cool waters of the Bogue Chitto River.  Fishing, tubing or canoeing down the river were, and still are, favorite recreational events for anyone living in the area.

As a child, some of my favorite stories were of happenings on the Bogue Chitto. My grandparents lived in a sharecroppers house, beside the Bogue Chitto at Walker's Bridge, during the years after the Great Depression.  I heard the stories of having relief vouchers for sugar, coffee, and gasoline because these items were rationed. Living next to the river, they didn't go hungry because they always had fish to eat. 

My Grandpa talked about going fishing in a boat, in the middle of the river, and how a monster in the water had tried to turn their boat over.  Maybe it was an alligator, but the thought that a giant fish could be in the water was beyond my young mind's wildest imagination. 

Now, I know that the monster was probably a giant catfish.  The bigger the water that they are in, the bigger they grow.  I learned this a few years ago when a son-in-law caught "a monster" of a catfish in a local pond in the area. When he held the fish up to his chin, it still touched the ground.

My Uncle Sherman loved to fish and I, always, loved the story of him and his sons going fishing in the Bogue Chitto River.  It seems that Uncle Sherman liked fish, but didn't like the idea of sitting on a river bank all day waiting to catch them.  He preferred to "call"  them all up to the top of the water and pick them up.  In other words, Uncle Sherman was "telephoning"  the fish.

Before the dial telephones came along, they had the crank telephones.  The crank phones, when cranked in water, produced enough of an electric charge to stun the fish. The fish would float to the top of the water, and they would pick them up out of the water.  This is illegal and if caught you pay a hefty fine for "telephoning."

I don't know if getting caught would have stopped Uncle Sherman or not, but I do know what did.  I don't know if he was drinking that day, or just poor judgement on his part made him decide that he would go out in the Bogue Chitto in a galvanized wash tub and "telephone" the fish. But, I imagine he got the shock of his life along with the fish when he cranked up on that old telephone.  I, also, imagine that he wished he could call for help after he came around and realized what had taken place.

These are the stories that take me back to childhood and I wish I was on the bank of the Bogue Chitto watching the bobber dancing while I reminisce of fish stories and childhood memories.

Grandma's Handkerchief

For Tears, Sneezes, Colds, and Small Treasures

When I was growing up, my Grandma and all the older ladies carried a small cloth handkerchief usually embroidered in some fashion, sometimes with a lace edging. These southern ladies would always have a handkerchief  handy, either in a pocket, pocketbook, or tucked in their bosom.
You never knew when someone might need to sneeze, their nose wiped, a hand or brow wiped or dried, a tear dried or a handy place to keep money.

When a southern lady got dressed to go somewhere: church, town, a wedding, a funeral, the birth of a baby, and any other emotional event, a handkerchief was a necessity.

 I remember vividly the first time I received some change as a gift. Little girls didn't carry pocketbooks, or have pockets all the time, so I needed somewhere to keep my money. My Grandma took the change and placed it in the corner of the handkerchief and folded it, then tied it in a knot. It was just right for my small hands to keep it, without it getting lost.
Now days, you don't see handkerchiefs like we did years ago. Paper tissues and towels have taken their place for sanitary reasons and no washing and ironing required as when you used a handkerchief. Whenever I see a handkerchief, I am transported back in time...back to childhood when such a small piece of cloth held so many memories.

Please Remember Me

Please Remember Me:
Why I Do My Genealogy Work

In 1999, Tim McGraw had a country song titled, "Please Remember Me".  Every time, I heard this song, I would shed tears. I couldn't understand why it affected me so emotionally.
Going back in memory, on 31Dec1986, my Grandfather, Ollie D Lee,  passed away of complications from heart surgery and cancer.. Five months later on 5May1987, my step father, Albert Leon Hill, passed away of complications from surgery and cancer. Then, 12 days later, on 17May1987, my first mother-in-law, Ella Mae Jenkins Skinner, passed away from cancer.  These were all influential family members that I missed in my life and so did my older three daughters.

My youngest children were very young when these family members passed away. My youngest daughter was 15 months old and my son was just two months old when my Grandfather passed away.  The older daughters had been very close to their grandparents and would share stories of them with their younger siblings.  As time passed and they grew, they ask questions about family members that we recalled often in conversation.  And so, I recalled stories and family history that each one had passed on to me, and shared them with my children as they grew up.
On 6Mar2000, my youngest brother, Alfred Keith Hill, died unexpectedly of a massive heart attack. On 2Jun2002, my oldest brother, Timothy Dewayne Owens, died in a vehicle accident. On 9Dec2003, my grandmother, Edith Louise Bowman Lee, passed away from liver disease.
This song still reflected my thoughts of each of these family members as their lives ended. How would they be remembered?  Would the stories of their lives be remembered and passed on to their grandchildren?
We had a cousin that had been the genealogist of the family that had added births and deaths to the family tree. But it wasn't complete because there was information that he didn't know that I knew on our part of the family tree.
And so began my journey to ensure that these family members would be remembered and that the stories of their lives would live on in their children, and their children's children.
When I hear this song now, I remember my family members lives and my quest to keep their memories alive.
This is why I do my genealogy work.  And in turn, my hope is that they will, "Please Remember Me."

"They Take After Your Side of the Family"

When I married my husband, I had three little girls that became his children, also.  To our family, we added another daughter and, at last, a son.
When our children were growing up and would do things that were just not what my husband  considered normal, as children always do, my husband would jokingly say, "They take after your side of the family."
It became a joke down through the years that he, joyfully, would joke and say that all of our children took after my side of the family, to me and to our children.  And it gave him so much pleasure to tell others that our children took after my side of the family.
When they were younger, people, who didn't know that the three older daughters were not my husband's by blood, would remark about how much they looked like my husband's sisters. We would just smile and thank them.
 I started work on my family tree several years ago and as I was tracing my roots back, it was then that I decided I should do a family tree on my husband's family, also.  My husband would come in and I would be busy researching and he would comment, as a lot of people in the south do, "You better be careful. You may find out that we are kin to each other." I would just continue my research never thinking that it was possible. We had grown up just a few miles from each other. But, I had never heard of a relative that we had in common.
As I continued my research, I noticed that my husband's side started having relatives in the Thornhill and Beard families.  These were two families that I had ancestors from, too!  When I reached Aaron Beard and Kizziah Carter,  in my husband's family tree, I could not believe it. They were my 5th great grandparents.
 I went back and printed a few generations of my husband's tree and my own, so I could compare them. They turned out to be my husband's 4th great grandparents.
And then, I found that Aaron and Kizziah's sons, Christopher Dyas Beard (my 4th grandfather) and Aaron Moses Beard (my husband's 3rd grandfather) had married Thornhill sisters.
Christopher Dyas had married Mary Ann Thornhill.  Aaron Moses had married Holly Thornhill.
And so their parents, William Elisha Thornhill and Mary Ann Boutwell are our grandparents, in common, on the Thornhill side of the family.
My husband doesn't joke as much since our children have all grown up about how much they take after my side of the family.  But every once in a while, they will do something that he will reply, "You took after your Momma's side of the family." and then he will smile or laugh. The children, laughingly reply, "No, we don't Daddy. We take after your side of the family, too, remember!"