A recent death in my wife’s family sent me searching through files of genealogy. That reminded my of an unfinished project with those files. Half of her records are digital scans and the other half are photocopies. Some items are copies of relatives’ files and others are borrowed materials – things people will come inquiring about at some point.

I’ve tracked the items I hold and those I’m looking for in a spreadsheet. It functions like a checklist. When I find a census record, I delete from one spreadsheet and add it to the other. It lets me keep a running list of what I have on each person and what I need to find. It also lets me keep a list of all documents – I can quickly find all the birth records or grave locations that I’ve recorded.

This works, but I’m sure there are other, better ways to track what I have. I recently found this post about journals, logs, and calendars. Question for genealogists out there: what do you use to track the documents you’ve located. I’m not inquiring about different forms of ancestry charts necessarily – just different ways of keeping your “to-find” and “found” lists.

My parents visited two more cemeteries in the Cincinnati area about a month ago. With the information they collected there, I’ve updated the map, which is included in this post. (If the plugin doesn’t work properly, try to view the map here.)

View

Clarkspot Ancestor Graves in a larger map

For more information on my family’s history, visit my genealogy section.

On Thursday morning, they updated the forecast. This would be a decent storm. We’d be driving straight through the storm to get home on Friday night. Or we’d be driving across roads with as much as a foot of ice and snow that may or may not be plowed. I spent my lunch hour looking at weather projections and maps. We talked at 3:30 that afternoon – we’d leave town that night (pack quickly…) and drive south where the weather should be limited to rain.

I’d never had much success trying to outflank a weather pattern before. I’ve failed to outrun snow storms in the past. I’ve driven along the Texas countryside trying to get to a cross road and out of a tornado’s path. Last year, we were forced to land in Toledo and stuck overnight in Detroit while trying to get home after Christmas. But we pack and leave by 7 p.m.

We were most of the way to Harrisburg when we called Roger to ask about the forecast for Pittsburgh. Either we’d turn west on the Pennsylvania Turnpike or stay south and head for Hagerstown, Maryland depending on whether Pittsburgh would have freezing rain that night. The weather looked clear until 1 a.m. and would be just rain by 10 a.m. – easy set-up for crashing in a hotel room. We turned west on I-76 and set our sights on New Stanton – a place Franchise selected.

The road was pretty clear, the weather held, although I was tired and we pulled off one exit early – about 20 miles shy of our intended destination. I noticed the name of the county on the way in. A long time ago, a branch of my mom’s family lived in Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania. Most of the family moved out after about 20 years. Only a few brothers stayed behind. I didn’t have any graves to search for and doubted there would be much paper record because the family left about 200 years ago.

We found the hotel and crashed for the night. Neither of us had heard of our jobs being closed the next day so we’d have to wake early to learn about the cancellations through text message or call off for the day. Franchise’s phone alarm sounded at 6:15 a.m. Within a few minutes, she received her cancellation text and rolled back over. I wasn’t cancelled so I spent a few minutes surfing the web on my Blackberry – learning a bit about the county’s history. That’s when I heard the buzzing – a quiet alarm sounding from the hallway. I rolled over to look at the alarm clock – dark. I flipped the bed lamp switch – nothing.Franchise slept blissfully in the bed – completely unaware. But I sat there thinking about my situation.I had never expected to find myself in Westmoreland County with no powern while rain poured outside while I tried to outsmart the seasonal weather.

Power was still out when Franchise woke so we considered our options. Donuts in the lobby and a dark bathroom. I grabbed my phone and Franchise’s GPS to Google and map the county historical society. Then I proposed an option to Franchise. We drive 20 miles to the historical society. Enjoy light, power, running water. I’d search their records for 30 minutes to see if they have anything pertaining to my family – anything that might encourage or dissuade me from visiting again. Then we’d get back on the road. Sometimes, when an opportunity is presented, you can’t let it go – particularly if it’s something you really enjoy doing.

Franchise didn’t sign up to leave Thursday night. She didn’t want to scamper out of Scranton wondering whether she would need to call in a sub for the next day. She didn’t want to be in a powerless hotel in Southwestern Pennsylvania. And she certainly didn’t want to spend the day in the archives somewhere while I did research. I could see the thoughts form in her head: Can’t he go anywhere without having to do genealogy research? She was gracious though. If there’s power, OK, she said. We checked the front desk. The hotel expected to be without power for the next 20 hours. The county seat had power. We packed the car and left.

Sure, I remembered the family name that resided in the area for 20-25 years. Bennetts. William, the patriarch, fought in the Battle of Bunker Hill and Yorktown. Isaac, his youngest son, is my direct ancestor. No clue on the dates or years they lived there or who was born, died, and married where. Totally unprepared and not expecting to parachute in to do anything with this family – particularly in a county where they resided for only a portion of their movement through the fledgling United States.

I walked into the Westmoreland County Historical Society with my laptop – full of all the family history scans I’ve collected – my brains for the day because I haven’t looked at this family in at least a year. The staff was nice – really helpful in digging up books and talking about the history of the area. I found a copy of a land deed from April 6, 1795 and a couple of mentions of the families that remained behind. Franchise read To Kill a Mockingbird. We stuck around about 90 minutes before hitting up the hotdog eatery on the corner and heading to Ohio.

The trip’s started with a lot of potential for a great story. Franchise and I have already decided that the Christmases since the wedding have been particularly adventuresome. We’re not done yet, but we made the best of a surprise situation.

I’m off in search of someone who speaks Italian. Just got my hands on the 1881 baptismal record of my great-grandmother. A member of the Barga Genealogy Research Group e-mailed me a copy from their records. The record is from the parish of Loppia, just outside of Barga (a Tuscan town of 6,000-8,000).

Eletta Arrighetti was born November 10, 1881. I recognize her father’s name in the handwriting. I can also make out the last name Borgi, which is supposed to be Eletta’s mother’s maiden name. She was baptized the day after she was born.

I was so surprised to see the e-mail. The BGRG member tracked me down after stumbling across my genealogy site. My Italian side is the section of my family where I have the least amount of work done. That’s largely because the two immigrants arrived in the late 1800s – well after my other ancestors had established roots. There’s simply more paperwork I can find here on the other family branches. The baptismal record is fantastic – it’s so unexpected.

I’ll share a few more names once I get this record translated.

I recently did remote research myself. Sitting seven hours away in Scranton, Pennsylvania I checked the Ohio Historical Society’s web page to find the death certificates of most of my great grandfather’s siblings. The organization has an index of death certificates filed between 1913 and 1944. Enter the name and county, and the web site pulls the volume and certificate number from its database.

Last week, my dad got back in the car and drove two hours to the state archives. Armed with the certificate numbers that I gave him, Dad easily found microfilm copies of the death records. I got them in the mail yesterday. Deaths in 1922, 1933, 1936, and 1940.

My ancestors – and their relatives – never could have imagined that it would be possible to learn so much about them so quickly and so easily from anywhere in the world.