I’ve been interested in genealogy since I was young. I watched my father review the records he had, and I asked and learned what I knew from him. The Internet has made it much easier to post and share information online. I’ve been lucky to grasp this in a way that can be applied to genealogy, and I’ve continued to learn and grow as a result. I’ve taken what I’ve found back home to share with family – and now I do the same with my wife and other friends and colleagues.

I expect this blog will continue to carry a share – a growing share – of genealogy posts. But I’m about to get some other topics to delve into.

The past few months have been filled with research, analysis, and observation. It’s also set me down several new courses in life. I’ll have plenty to share as I publish what I’ve learned – and, hopefully, learn from what I publish.

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.

I think social networking is a wonderful and entertaining tool to get in closer contact with people. I’ve personally learned about so many people who now have children, homes, and spouses that I wouldn’t have known about before – people who I had lost touch with years ago. I’m really happy for them, and it’s great to get that chance to catch up with people who had inadvertently fallen from my list of colleagues.

Just as I can get more done with a word processor than hand writing everything, I expect programs can help me know a bit more about a larger number of people. But I don’t think I’ll truly know hundreds of people – I think I’ll have trivia about most of their lives.

The larger point behind that entry is that social networking is an interest for some people in the same way that I have a passionate interest in genealogy. Some folks will be really connected and plugged in to the newest sites. They’ll move on when too many other people join the site and it loses its hipness. And if they’re not coming back, were they truly engaged with – and listening to – your message? Or were you just playing in the right medium for a few months?

It’s a question for a communications professional who believes social networking is The Solution. It might only be one tool to get one segment of people. It’s a service – not a strategy.

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 the president of the local chapter of the Sons of the American Revolution. I became interested in the group’s genealogical and historical purposes when I discovered an ancestor who fought in the Revolutionary War. I’ve since found two more patriot ancestors – including one who carried the colonists’ flag during the Battle of Bunker Hill. The SAR is comprised of a number of older gentlemen, and our chapter is no different. Our local chapter is a small group that’s trying to find ways to get involved in the dozens of communities where we live. The territory we cover and the small number of young, active members makes many activities difficult. I’ve found my success in working with the state society.

The leadership of the state society meets quarterly to address routine business and review the reports and activities of officers, chapters, and committees. It’s always in need of host chapters for these meetings. I was offered the chance for my chapter to host a Board of Management meeting and recognized a way to try to engage my chapter members as well as introduce the state to the Revolutionary history of the Northeast corner of Pennsylvania. The board meeting was held November 7 and 8. I just finished the final reports and receipts. It was a great meeting. We finished in the black. And we had fantastic reviews from all the compatriots who I talked with as the activities were completed.

I thought I’d share a bit of the area’s Revolutionary history on here. To promote the event, the host chapter writes a short piece for the state’s magazine. Here’s what I wrote on the Wyoming Massacre (published in the Fall 2008 newsletter):

The Wyoming Monument commemorates the 1778 massacre of American colonists in the Wyoming Valley

The Wyoming Monument

The Wyoming Valley and Northeastern Pennsylvania were divided before the American Revolution. Pennsylvania settlers from Philadelphia and westward Connecticut settlers had battled for control of land. Both states pointed to their charters to claim the land that runs along the northern border of Pennsylvania. But the two sides found themselves in agreement with the advent of the Revolution.

The area escaped hostilities and fighting for the first few years of the American Revolution. But after surrendering a fort in Upstate New York in 1777, British troops had rallied local Iroquois tribes to join in raids. A year later, the British, Seneca, and Iroquois gathered near Pittston, Pennsylvania – about midway between modern Scranton and Wilkes-Barre. Pennsylvania and Connecticut settlers sent out calls for help and sought refuge in a string of forts in the Wyoming Valley. Determined to save their crops, a band of untrained farmers organized and vowed to help any local Continental forces in dispersing the threat.

On July 3, 1778, the American troops led by Col. Zebulon Butler, left Forty Fort to face off against the British. Butler led about 375 men up the western side of the Susquehanna River. Scouts reported the British were retreating. In fact the British forces, led by Major John Butler, began burning Fort Wintermute and Fort Jenkins as they learned the Americans were advancing. British troops lay in wait with their Indian allies as the Continental soldiers rushed forward. The patriots didn’t realize the trap until they were just a few hundred feet away. Indians and British soldiers leapt out and ambushed the Americans. The inexperienced Americans misunderstood the order to form a line as a retreat.

The Americans were overrun. While some died in battle, many more were killed in the legendary

Less than a month before this picture, a bolt of lightning struck the flag pole near the Wyoming Monument

massacre by their Indian captors. Only 174 survived and returned to the fort. When the British soldiers left the area in the following days, the survivors and colonial settlers fled. Those who fled repeated the stories of the atrocities the Iroquois and Seneca inflicted on the captured Americans. Those rumors would help fuel the Americans’ desire to send the Sullivan Expedition to destroy Indian villages in New York the next year.

As the signature Revolutionary War battle in Northeastern Pennsylvania, the Wyoming Massacre has been long-remembered in the Wyoming Valley. Historical accounts show that a group began to build a monument in 1832 to honor the patriots who died in the battle and subsequent massacre. The monument was finished around 1843. Remains of some of the fallen soldiers are buried beneath the 63-foot tall memorial.

About 35 years later, another group formed to recognize the 100^th anniversary of the battle. The Wyoming Commemorative Association was formed in 1878 and hosted President Rutherford B. Hayes as the principal speaker at the initial memorial service. Since then, the association has gathered descendants of those involved at the battle, the Revolution, and other patriotic and community associations for an annual memorial service on July 4.

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.

It’s always nice to get a few days at home to relax. This time was an experience. It had been years since I had been home for a birthday or visited the town’s summer carnival. We visited the Columbus Zoo for the birthday. The festival was packed with people, but I hadn’t realized it was so – compact. As a kid, it seemed a lot bigger than two blocks.

Work begins again tomorrow (Tuesday). Freshman begin move-in on Thursday. Classes start next week. I can’t believe summer’s coming to a close.

At least I got one good trip out of it.

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.

As we stood in the churchyard cemetery, we talked about the history of the area. During the Revolutionary War era, residents used the Blue Mountains as a barrier to escape attacks from hostile Native Americans. Tracking families through the years means searching in communities on both sides of the mountain.

I looked up at the mountain towering above us. Farms dotted the sides of the surrounding hillsides, and trees and fields covered most of the scenery. The church was at the end of the road leading out of town. I realized this was similar to the way the area appeared 220 years ago, as Conrad Solt began his life after the Revolution. In fact, this resembled most towns in the early United States.

I sometimes bemoan the fact that I’m not in a large metropolitan city. I see it as encouraging, and inhibiting, my travel. My trip today was a reminder that most of America both now, and throughout its history, is small towns. Many of us, and our families, end up in tiny churchyards. The vibrant cities, while exciting, aren’t solely America.