I’ve been doing some genealogical research in preparation for our trip to Ireland which is both fun and maddening (going through loads of census records without getting a drop of new information can get pretty boring). Here are some of my gleaned insights on the Gormley family:
1. Don’t name your son Henry. It doesn’t seem to end well since three of the Henrys in my family tree died prematurely.
2. Don’t tell the above tidbit to your brother who then confides that Henry is their top boys name. Crap.
3. Don’t go logging. Two men have died via logging. So, dad, stay away from cutting down trees, ok?
4. People were not real original with names. In three generations there were 6 Thomases, 5 Peters, 5 Janes, 6 Henrys, 5 Sarahs, and 5 Margarets.
5. It was apparently ok to marry a cousin back in the day… thank goodness that was not in my direct family tree…
What the family tree doesn’t tell me is what provoked my widowed great-great-great-great grandfather to immigrate from Ireland with his nine children just before the potato famine in Ireland. Why did they settle in Canada before heading to Michigan? All of the census records in the world aren’t going to be able to tell me that. Which makes me want to lug a tape recorder to my three living grandparents and record their stories. Not just the where and when and what but the why and the how.
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