The days, you keep tying them to hooks on the ceiling. Clay ornaments on strings knocking together like wind chimes in a summer storm or the eerie jingle of the Good Humor truck driving by. Somehow both immediate and fleeting. They make the most delicate clamor
The noise sends me out of the house late at night after you’ve drifted off with the raft of our bed. I dig up the neighbor’s yard, catch raccoons in the garden, walk to the bar on the corner and ask the bartender for something, anything. I make the most delicate clamor
She ducks under the counter and pulls out a pickle jar. Small holes in lid. Label advertises Dill Spears. I am not afraid of the fluttering moths inside, their wings outspread, anticipating flight. I find you at the kitchen table when I return. We make the most delicate clamor
“Repeat it,” Brian, the seventh-grade DM, says, holding a cigarette lighter directly under my fist.
“I can’t play until I’m 14.”
“So stop asking.” His grip releases and I shake the pinpricks from my fingertips. “Now hand it over.”
I pull a folder crammed with notebook paper from my backpack. Brian yanks out a character sheet—Xenon the Sorceror—and lights it. The ashes fall lightly on me. I try not to think of them as the remains of a friend.
I invested in a new genealogy database (Reunion for iPad) and most of my research time since has been spent transferring documents and information from my Ancestry account, my paper files, and my Google Drive into the program. The process has been slow, but rewarding. It’s forced me to take another look at everything I’ve found on my ancestors so far. Here’s a short list of the things I’ve learned or remembered during the process:
- Take baby steps. Transferring all of that data is a huge undertaking. To break the work into more manageable pieces, I’ve dedicated one month to focus on finding all the information I can and inputting the data on each of my direct ancestors, starting with my parents and moving up the tree using Ahnentafel numbers. Finding out what paperwork I already have on my people was the logical first step in this process. So I’m checking all of my genealogy repository sites: Ancestry, Google Drive, paper files, and Reunion. I note the documents I’m missing while simultaneously ensuring that all of my documents are stored in all four places.
- Make a simple spreadsheet. I know. Spreadsheets are the worst, right? But for inventory purposes, they make all the information visible at a glance. I set up six columns and labeled them: Person, Document, Ancestry, paper files, Google Drive, and Reunion. The first column has my ancestor’s name, the second has a fairly simple description of the document, and the other four are just columns for X’s that indicate where in my files the document can be found.
- Make the spreadsheet work hard… I figured if I’m going to spend all this time filling out a spreadsheet I might as well make it do double or triple duty. Thankfully, early on in my inventory process, I realized I could make the spreadsheet double as a timeline by adding a column for the dates of the documents I inventoried and then sorting them chronologically. (Sorting is the only advanced function an Excel beginner would need to learn to make the spreadsheet useful. It’s relatively easy.) Then I realized if I added the locations of the documents I could pull together all of the significant places of my ancestors. So, using only eight columns, I now have an inventory, a timeline, and a location tracker for all of my ancestors.
- But don’t go overboard. Seeing all the handy ways an Excel spreadsheet could be used for genealogy made me want to put ALL THE DETAILS in there. That might work for some, but I have found that the larger a spreadsheet becomes the more overwhelming it gets. Any spreadsheet that extends beyond the frame of my computer screen becomes unwieldy to me, so I’m less likely to keep up with it.
- Review first; input second. As tempting as it was to have all these documents to enter into my shiny new software program, I refrained. Looking at all of the documents at the same time helped me draw some logical conclusions about conflicting information. For instance, my maternal great-grandfather has four different birthdates on four different official records. But upon further scrutiny, I noticed that two of the birth dates were recorded decades later and one was likely to be the date of baptism. Finding those discrepancies all at once saved me some confusion and resulted in my entering his correct birthday.
This process has made me realize I am not nearly as organized as I’d thought. (Look at all of those empty cells up there!) I had some important records squirreled away in one repository or another that I never factored into the larger scope of my ancestor’s lives. I found I had forgotten to print hard copies of birth certificates and death certificates for my paper files. Screenshots of online family trees were hiding in my Google drive that I’d forgotten about for years. Thank goodness I caught it all in time!
I hear the satisfying plop of wet clay and then the wheel spins and spins. Each hand curves, pushes, and smooths, lifts new life from a formless muck. The past cakes underneath my fingernails; the future, slick with glaze, blazes in the kiln. I wait to greet the freshest phoenix.
Open the rusty screen door
Follow my voice through the center
of the forest with no trees
Float atop the escaping river
like a weekday problem on a Saturday afternoon
Watch the cardinals glide above
this mess of a city, careless, self-absorbed,
The drivers in their compact cars, too,
accelerating behind you to dates and games
the scattered possibilities of something better
Take solace in the abandoned
take-out bags and six-pack rings
like embedded buttons to press
along the speckled shore of Lake Michigan
Lives are being lived here—mine, yours too—
Fill your lungs with ivy
Feel each of your toes slicken with grease
and pulverized stone, the natural aftermath
of ten million people using up this world
a paragraph at a time, a paragraph
at a time when each of us yearns to write
A burnished tome
“You sure you’re cool with us?” The cigarette in our neighbor’s mouth bobbed as he spoke. Heather was in the kitchen rustling pots.
“Us?” I asked, setting my beer down on a coaster, a souvenir from happier days when I still bought Heather gifts.
“You know, with me and Heather?”
I never thought I was descended from saints or anything. Still it’s difficult to see proof that your forebearers were abusive, racist, or felonious. My two-times great-grandfather, Nathaniel Lewis, turned out to be all three. I’ll post more about this story soon.
Click here for source info.
While my great-grandfather was getting married on Christmas day 1906, his father’s barn was burning to the ground.
Click here for source.
He traced my name into my chest after he heard it, the e blazing across my ribs like a comet. On the dance floor, he grabbed my hips and kissed me.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“For the stars in your eyes.”
A couple years ago after researching as thoroughly as possible, I had decided my family was not related to the infamous outlaw, Jesse James. But, after finding this newspaper article recently, I’ve brought out all of my research again.
To be clear, the man interviewed happens to also be named Jesse James. He is not the outlaw, but he is definitely my grandfather’s cousin.
Click here for source.