My friend Jan D. turned me on to Ancestry.com and now I am totally messed up. I don’t sleep, I don’t bathe, I just keep filling in my family tree and clicking on that stupid little waving green leaf. If you’ve seen the website, you know the leaf means somebody on Ancestry has turned up another tidbit of fact – and I use the term loosely – about a long-dead great-aunt.
Battle Station
But I click on it because it might be important. Proof, finally, that yes I am descended from Catherine the Great.
More likely, one of my cousins in Rushville, Indiana (you know who you are) misspelled a name, which appears to Ancestry.com’s voracious, data-crunching computers to be an interesting new fact. My neck and shoulders hurt, and I think I’m getting tendinitis in my right elbow.
And when I fill in my own little boxes, including my three marriages, my part of the tree will look like it got doused with Miracle-Grow.
But my mother is so excited. My God, after decades of schlepping around a shopping bag containing little slips of paper with the approximate names of unfamiliar maybe-relatives, her computer-adept daughter will finally use her talents for something worthwhile.
Like finding out what Mom’s long-dead mother-in-law was hiding all these years.
Seeing all those connected boxes spread out across the page, those names representing whole lives and generations, is kind of sobering, though. This is my family! All those great-great-great grandmothers and fathers and kids and their offspring, lived and died – you see it, and you can’t help but feel a bit melancholy. Their stories are poignant. Life was hard. Like in Austria/Hungary, my great-grandfather’s family couldn’t offer him any land on which to start his family. The land had run out. These farmers were forced to choose between conscription in the Austrian army (and serve as cannon fodder for the Turks), or leave their parents and grandparents forever and move to the great unknown America.
Hah. One ancestor said the winters in North Dakota were so terrible, they would have been better off in Siberia.
I’ve unearthed ship’s passenger lists that show my ancestors immigrating from Germany and Hungary (I think we’re Transylvanian). Long lists of families. Typically, you see the names of the father (occupation: farmer), mother (occupation: spouse), and eight, ten, twelve kids. Holy hell, can you imagine traveling across the ocean in steerage with that lot? What guts. What strength. My relatives were powered by dreams and desperation.
I feel humbled. All those lives, come and gone. Born and died. Geboren and gestorben.
The span of human existence is short, and right now I am keenly aware of my mortality. I want to savor every minute, before somebody fills in the gestorben date on my Ancestry box. So I’m hanging up now. You, too. Go out and play, and enjoy your precious life.
Homestead in North Dakota c. 1850
Me too!!! So much so, that we made this little short comedy film about it. 🙂 You’re not alone.
I’d love it if you’d check it out:
LOVED it, Waverly! Here’s the actual link: http://youtu.be/skNJhTBeqDA
This could very easily have been me writing about ancestry.com What is it that makes it so addictive? Is it that those long dead ancestors were so tough that they had to have as many babies as they could (since many would not make it) to keep the family name going? And what living hell were they running from to take on settling the midwest? My mom’s family homesteaded in South Dakota, and it was brutal.
Is it because we hope to have had some of that toughness gifted to us through our genes? I have been through some tough times, but nothing like what they had to endure.
Is it the detective in us, when there’s that one mystery great grandma with no maiden name and no clues about where she came from in Italy?
I agree it gets into your bloodstream. Carry on, fellow addict! rc
I think it’s just the fun of thinking you’re going to discover something wonderful, or the drive for completeness; also, the community of distant relatives that work with you on making connections. But I have to be honest: when I got a renewal notice for $167, I went cold turkey! Addicted no more.
It is ohhhhhh so addicting, hence why I am awake right now instead of sleeping, oy vay! Must. Stop. And. Sleep. :p
And you can’t really do it when you’re tired or you’ll let in the weak info other people have suggested through “hints”. Right? It’s more than just a website. It’s kind of a brain challenger, too, like sudoku.
Oh Lynne, you sound just like me when I started searching for skeletons in my family closet. I had to cut myself off cold turkey because once I logged on, I couldn’t get anything else done. Of course one search led to another, you know how it goes. It is humbling and empowering to discover our roots! Let me know when you start you AA group for Ancestry.com…I will be the first to join.
You got it, Pat!
Lynne, you make Ancestry.com sound way too enticing and I’ve heard the same from others who are involved in it. What a fascinating process to learn where we came from, even revealing deep, dark family secrets. I’m very tempted but I really don’t need anything else to be addicted to. I may have to lurk around a little but like you say, we have a life to live in the present and need to pay attention to what’s right in front of us too. Maybe you will have started an Ancestry Anonymous group by the time I get around to trying it out! 🙂
And you will need it, because I know how you are. (Like me!)
Lynne, this is a post with such emotional impact. I do believe that as we age, we have more and more desire to pay homage to those who walked on the path that led to us. My cousin and I have been trying to research our family for many years, and the journey has been mostly futile, frustrating, and perplexing. Names have changed, towns are gone, records were incorrect or non-existant. How wonderful it must be to go onto a site like Ancestry and actually find someone!
Renee, it is fantastic, esp. that now I decided to do, in addition to my family tree, that of my husband and DIL, neither of whom have much info. BUT my right hand, wrist, and elbow are hurting! I’ve spent so much time on the keyboard (picture your hand curved to use the trackpad and you’ll see the danger.) Just like the mortality on the trees, I have to accept that my body is limited and I can’t do this constantly. But oh, it’s tempting to find ways to continue. Like left-handed. And bonus: they say if you work with your non-dominant hand, your brain will grow in the creativity areas. So there’s that.
Oh I’ve spent my share of time in ancestry.com too. We are who we came from, aren’t we?
Yes, Linda, it’s sobering. You really get a sense of being kind of irrelevant except to your contemporaries – at least, that’s me.
I loved this!! Yeah for our ancestors!!
Sue, I agree, they are awesome sources of inspiration, aren’t they!
You come from strong stock, my friend! Perhaps all our ancestors were of stronger core than we are — we’ve gotten lazy and spoiled from technology and machinery! They had to do everything by hand. You put a lot of perspective on it when you painted the picture of that poor couple with all those kids in steerage, traveling across an unfamiliar ocean to an unfamiliar country. Amazing!
Oh Lynne – been there, done that, and on the wagon right now! But, I need to get back to it so I can visit my ancestor’s stomping grounds in Ireland for my 60th birthday (a year away). Both parents come from Irish descent, but I keep getting mixed message from the elders. hehe.
But, if I wish to dig deeper into the Kennedy side, I’m sure I’d welcomed with open arms at Hyannisport whenever I feel the need. lol!!
Hang in there – everything in moderation, Lynne. 🙂
Vonnie
I just stumbled upon your wonderful blog and had to laugh out loud at your description of your experiences with Ancestry.com. I, too, am a recent subscriber (long-time genealogist) and I totally get your addiction! And your awe in those hard-working, brave ancestors who came before us. Thanks for inspiring me!
And thanks for stopping by! Have fun with Ancestry.
Poignant and powerful. Yes – we stand on the shoulders of those who came before us.