
Most writers do a lot of other things that bring fulfillment and satisfaction. Some love to cook, sew, or travel. The favorite things in my post last year were my rock collection. I just love collecting rocks. But on this one I want to talk about another love of mine that’s dear to my heart–Genealogy and researching my family history.
I’m very drawn to everything on the subject. PBS public broadcasting has a program on Tuesday nights here called Finding Your Roots and I watch it every week if I’m home. Henry Louis Gates, Jr. researches and delves deep into each his guests’ history. Sometimes the results will blow your mind and often the stories his team unearths are sad. It certainly beats fiction.
In my family, I’ve uncovered a lot of surprising things that often leave me with more questions than answers. Ancestry.com has billions of records of births, deaths, census records, and newspaper articles. Through them, I discovered that the man I was led to believe was my grandfather isn’t. When he was twenty-three years old, he ran off with my grandmother who was almost forty and she was seven months pregnant with my mother. She already had five children, the oldest of which was married herself. She looked old, tired and used up, not some gorgeous woman. I’ve asked myself why? What would tempt a young man with his life ahead of him to do something like that? She never divorced her husband John Ellis and there are no records where she ever married this young man who lived on a neighboring farm in Arkansas. My mother said Ben used to get drunk and yell to her that she wasn’t his kid.
So fast forward thirty-seven years and Ben is dying of Black Lung Disease. He’s fathered another daughter and buried my grandmother. Who does he ask to take care of him? My mom. And she does. Not sure why, but I’d like to think he begged her forgiveness. So many questions I wish I had asked Mom.
Another story was about Ben’s brother, my uncle. Or at least I was told he was. William Henry died when he was twenty-six and I had a difficult time trying to find what happened to him. Then I ran across a newspaper article published in 1917 that told how was killed in a construction accident. He fell off a roof into a large vat of fresh cement and was buried in it. He died before they could get him out.
There are so many stories that grab your heart. I love knowing about these people and finding out that I have some of the same strength as my ancestors did. I come from a long line of immigrants. A few years ago, I did my DNA and 80% was English and Scottish. I had small percentages of Norwegians, Swedes, and Irish. That surprised me because I’d always thought I was mostly Irish. But no. I love knowing that I might’ve descended from Vikings. They regularly invaded England and Scotland and must’ve married one.
Have you ever done your DNA? Or have you researched your ancestors? Or tell me about one of your favorite things. Leave a comment to get in a drawing for a $10 Amazon gift card.


Several months ago, I blogged about starting on my “ancestry” journey. I gave myself a subscription to Ancestry . com, and voila! I was on my way!



