First Word #17: Haiti Got Me Thinking

Have you ever found yourself up against a brick wall? I don’t mean in your car, I’m talking about in your research. If you haven’t then you haven’t been doing this very long and believe me, you’ll know what I’m talking about when you find one. It is that dead-end that you can’t seem to get past in your research. I’m at a brick wall in one of my lines. Well, several, but one in particular that I’m working on in earnest. I’ve written about my Mitchell ancestors before. I had a fun time trying to locate their tombstone in the Wellsville, Missouri cemetery. Now, I’m trying to locate the marriage of Thomas Carroll Mitchell and Angeline Higdon.

I know where they “should” be. They “should” be in Barren County, Kentucky sometime before 1850. I found them in the 1850 census married with no kids, in their early 20s. The box that says “Married within the year” was not checked. So I am guessing they were married approximately 1847-1849. The records for Barren County, Kentucky exist for that time frame. I looked at them the last time I was in Salt Lake City, in 2005 and did not locate my ancestors. And to top it all off, I have found very little indication as to who either of their parents are!

Well, that is a bummer to say the least. Don’t you just hate it when your research does not go according to plan? Sometimes we jokingly say that our ancestors were brought here on the “Mother Ship” rather on a sailing ship across the ocean. It would seem at times that our ancestors just “showed up” suddenly in the records and where they came from or who they descended from is a complete mystery!

The January 2010 earthquake in Haiti got me thinking about some of the possibilities for these unexplained or difficult-to-find answers. I’ve watched news stories regarding the orphans in Haiti. It was estimated in one NPR article I read that more than 20,000 children lost their parents in the disaster. In many cases relatives or neighbors are caring for the children. In other cases, they are fending for themselves. One group of boys formed a group and live together in a park. They do odd jobs to earn a little money and they wash out their clothes every night. They share what little food they have to survive. The article went on to say that slowly social workers are making their way through the crowds to document who’s living where and to offer services to children such as these boys. There is much concern over how to keep track of all of these children as well as to try to stop such unsavory things as child trafficking, kidnapping and unlawful adoptions.

What if something like this terrible disaster (or even a small disaster) happened to our ancestor? Fire, flood, tornado, earthquake, hurricane, illness–the possibilities are numerous. If our ancestors’ parents were killed in some terrible way, who took them in? And were there any records to indicate where that child came from? If suddenly there’s another child in a family and the age doesn’t necessarily line up with previous information, this may be a possibility. Records may indicate “adopted” but more likely, the child(ren) were just absorbed into the family, especially if they were taken in by relatives. It is quite possible that no records were created that document times such as these. Also, the children could have taken on their adopted family’s name. This alone could bring you up against a brick wall in your research.

As I watched numerous news stories about these Haitian orphans and thought about how the chaos would affect genealogical research in years to come, it caused me to reflect on how similar situations would affect our ancestors. I am going to keep this in mind in the future. One thing you can do is read newspapers for the area and time your ancestors lived and note any disasters that may have occurred. This may break down some of those walls.

First Word #2 - How Potty Training Can Help Your Genealogy

The First Word:
How Potty Training Can Help Your Genealogy
by Cari A. Taplin

Last summer, my family and I took a trip to visit my extended family in Ohio, driving across the Midwest for two days. On the return trip I had planned to make a couple of genealogical stops in Missouri where I have traced my maternal grandmother’s line. Our first stop was Wellsville, Missouri, which is practically in the middle of the state, not far off of I-70.

After stopping at a local library to look at some old newspapers, I wanted to locate the tombstones of my great-great-great-grandparents, Thomas Carroll and Angeline Mitchell. Thomas Carroll Mitchell died 29 April 1914 and Angeline died 5 March 1913. I had come across a list of tombstone transcriptions several years ago recording their graves, but had never had the time to go and find them. Now I finally had my chance.

I knew the cemetery was located in Wellsville, and prior to our trip I had searched the Internet, located the cemetery on a map, and plotted the course we would take to get there. The surrounding countryside was somewhat hilly and there were small farms everywhere. During the peak of summer, it was a beautiful drive.

Arriving in the small town of Wellsville, population 1400, we passed a gas station and several streets with small houses; there was not much to this town. Finding the cemetery was easy since I had a good map and it was a pretty good-sized cemetery for such a small town.

There were two modern entrances to the cemetery and the remains of what appeared to be the original entrance, a two-wheel rutted path that went under an old metal archway. We took the first drive we came upon which wound through the cemetery in a “U” shape and ended up at the second entrance. There was a shallow gully that bisected the cemetery which was dry when we were there. It appeared that the oldest stones were east of this gully and the newer ones were to the west.

We parked under a nice old shade tree and let the kids out. They had been riding for a long time and needed to stretch their legs. We had a discussion with the children about what to do and not to do in a cemetery, such as where to walk and how to avoid touching the stones lest we knock a loose one over (we’d already had an experience with this when my son was younger, but that’s a whole other topic altogether!)

We started walking up and down the rows, canvassing the stones. This was a great time to practice letters with Ethan, our preschool-age son. I told him to find any tombstones that started with an “M.” We looked and looked and looked. And then we looked some more. There were many stones whose dates and names were so eroded by the elements that they were illegible and I was beginning to think we'd never find my ancestors’ graves.

Seth, my husband and research slave, then realized that the cemetery transcriptions I had brought with me were arranged in order of location, meaning that whoever compiled it probably recorded the list in order as they walked the rows, instead of alphabetizing it. So, next to my Mitchells on this list, there were some common names like Brown but there were also some Branstetters. Being an uncommon name I’d be likely to recognize, I also began looking for “Branstetter.”

I was about half way through the older part of the cemetery when Ethan proudly announced he had to go potty. He had been potty trained for a while now, but when they say they need to go they usually mean five minutes ago. So we thought we'd just have him go on the road next to the car. However he informed us he had to “go poop” and we decided that THAT probably was something to be added to the list of things we don't “do” in a cemetery. Seth quickly loaded him up in the car to drive back to the gas station in town to use the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Ellie, my daughter, and I kept walking the cemetery. We were getting hot and tired. I was about to give up assuming that my ancestors’ stones must have been among those that were completely unreadable. By the time Seth and Ethan returned from the gas station (a false alarm I might add) I was done with the older part of the cemetery. I suggested we give up because we were hot and tired and we just couldn’t find the stone.

By happenstance, Seth had driven back through the second cemetery entrance, which was closer to where we were searching. We loaded up, packed the genealogy away and headed out. Because we were turned around, we had to drive back through the “newer” section of the cemetery to leave. As we rolled through the “newer” section, I noticed a tombstone that looked like it said “Branstetter” in the distance. It was just beyond the little gully next to a few other stones. And then I saw one that said “Mitchell” standing right beside it. As we drew closer, I could clearly see it was my ancestors!

They were even within inches of the road where we drove in. The tombstones were facing the “wrong way,” meaning they were not facing the road as we drove in, so I couldn’t see them even though I was scanning for them. If Ethan hadn’t had to go to the bathroom, I would have never found my ancestors. We would have driven right out of that second entrance and never looked back.

I learned many lessons on that trip. First, look for other names that should be buried near your ancestors. Second, don’t forget to check those tombstones that are facing the “wrong direction.” Third, and definitely the most important, taking along a potty-trained tike can be the key to finding your ancestors.