I've been doing genealogy for about two years now, pretty seriously, and I guess I'm moving from being a brand-new beginner to a category like "experienced beginner" or "thinks she knows her way around but still has a lot to learn." Along with the elation I've felt when something clicks into place -- I find my great-grandmother's actual birth surname -- I've experienced many other emotions along the way. Do any seem familiar to you other semi-new researchers? 1) Frustration : You know there's got to be a record of your grandfather's mother somewhere. She existed, why can't you find any kind of record? Your great-grandfather lived in one city, but died about 130 miles away -- what was he doing there? Why did he die there, not at home? Unlike a brand new researcher, you know where to look, you have multiple places to look, and you come up with nothing. Just one example of the many, many ways you'll feel frustrated. My mothe...
I've written about my great-grandmother, Annie Schwietering Ortmann, here and here . Today, I've been working on my book (German research for newbies, essentially), and I did an exhaustive search on the Big Three (Ancestry, MyHeritage, and Family Search) for the Ortmann family. I found some interesting things. First, we know that as researchers, we have to deal with variations in spelling. If your ancestor is named Smith or Jones, this might not be much of an issue. But if your great-grandmother's name was Schwietering, well, here are the variations I've found so far: Annie Sweder Schiewfering Schwictering Schnrifering Schwieterina Schueitering Schweitering If I'm being very conscientious, I'll search for all of these variations any time I search for Annie. Can you say "tedious"? More important is that in my searches, I found birth and/or death records for Joseph Ortmann and Annie's children. Indulge me while I present you with a list: Anna, ...
I've never been able to visit an ancestor's grave. The cemeteries where my grandparents and great-grandparents were buried don't exist any more, and my own folks, as is the custom nowadays, were cremated. So when I realized that on my trip to New Mexico I would have the opportunity to visit a relative's grave, I knew I had to stop. Joseph B. Ortman Jr. was a first cousin of my father, but one that he never knew, because his own father was estranged from his family. I've written about Joseph and his family before; his life was not easy. His mother was committed to a mental hospital and stayed there for 30+ years, until her death. His father worked on the railroad, so he was often gone, and Joseph was left in the care of two older ladies with whom he and his father boarded. Joseph had no siblings, and he neither married nor had children, so I wondered when, if ever, someone had visited his grave. Because he had been in the Navy in WWII, he was ent...
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