Focusing on the use of the newest technology in genealogy, RootsTech had something for everyone. Whether you are just getting started or are experienced, the conference offered hands-on workshops and interactive presentations led by genealogy experts from across the country. The bustling exhibition hall — packed with booths run by genealogy-based vendors, all introducing their newest products — gave attendees the opportunity to browse and connect with other genealogy enthusiasts. Over all, RootsTech’s focus on the use of technology to research, organize, preserve and share one’s family history was a perfect mix of new verse old which attracted both the new and experienced genealogist.    

Most of my time at RootsTech was spent at the Ancestry.com booth, where I got to meet many of the team members I have interacted with over the last year. Honored to even be asked to join the conference with them, I admit I felt a bit nervous about my presentation, which covered how my love of genealogy eventually drew me into the world of the paranormal. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve attended several events and conferences around the country, but this was different. Even though I have always seen the clear similarities between the paranormal and genealogy, I wondered if the genealogy world would.

The biggest challenge that comes with being involved in the paranormal is the possibility of being received as a crackpot. In all honesty, I blame a good part of my skepticism on the years spent researching my ancestors; genealogy is all about finding evidence through records and family documents in order to uncover your family’s past. I take the same approach with the paranormal; in my time in the field, I needed documented proof to rationally uncover or debunk the mysteries plaguing the locations we investigated.

While I shared my favorite locations to investigate at the Ancestry.com booth, I also explained the steps I took as a genealogist to research the location and the supposed ghost. I watched as expressions from the audience transformed from uncertainty to acceptance as they saw the connections I was drawing between unexplained and the explainable.

At the end of the day, genealogical research and paranormal investigation revolve around exploring the dead, while also filling our need to keep the dead alive. The biggest difference between the two being, instead of investigating any old location or ghost, genealogy gives you the opportunity to investigate the ghosts of your own past.

As a genealogist, attending RootsTech with Ancesty.com was an amazing opportunity, and opened my eyes to just how much genealogy research has advanced in such a short amount of time. When I first started my research 21 years ago, the only options I had were phone calls and handwritten letters. I had to rely on family members in hopes of gaining new information and hints to help obtain records from vital statistic offices, historical societies, libraries and cemeteries. All of this took a lot of legwork, time and patience.

Even though you can still hit dead ends and roadblocks in your research, where knowledge of the old research techniques are definitely useful, today’s technology has made the entire process easier and faster. The ability to research, connect with others, organize and store your information has become incredibly streamlined.

Ancestry.com alone offers many helpful, user-friendly options for those just getting started in this research, and for those who have been at it for years. All of their products and services encourage and enable users to connect with other users in order to enhance their experience and further their research. While the service makes it possible to access over 11 billion records and over 40 million family trees from the comfort of your own home, the AncestryApp for iPhone, iPad and Android smartphones make it possible for you to research and build your family tree on the go. If you are looking for a better way to store, organize and share your information on your computer, there is FamilyTree Maker, which even gives you the ability to sync your tree with your online Ancestry.com tree.

Although I have utilized all of Ancestry.com’s services over the years, I am still amazed by the addition of DNA testing to enhance genealogy research.  With one easy-to-take test, AncestryDNA has helped me discover my ethnicity, introduced me to several other members who I share a common ancestor with, and provided me the ability to collaborate with them.

That was another excellent part of RootsTech; it introduced people to these awesome services that they may not have known about. Moreover, for me personally, it was a joy to connect with a community I’ve been a part of since I was 11 years old. Genealogy is all about researching people, but it can sometimes feel like a solitary pursuit. I learned so much about the new innovations in the field, but also learned from the other people. Thanks to Ancestry.com, I really felt like I was a part of something truly bigger.

I look forward to attending more genealogy conferences in the future and can’t help but wonder what new discoveries are waiting just around the corner that will continue to advance our ability to dig deeper into our past. And look forward to more chances to be with my fellow researchers again. Despite all the conferences I’ve been to before, this one was my favorite.

By: Kris Williams

Twitter: KrisWilliams81

Born and raised in New England, I grew up hearing about the celebrations that take place in Boston every year on St. Patrick’s Day. To say my boyfriend and I were excited to be experiencing it for ourselves for the first time was an understatement. Driving into the city to meet up with friends, we really had no idea what we were getting into. While live Irish music filled the streets, there were lines out the door of every restaurant, pub and club. People were dressed head-to-toe in green, and you could tell they’d been in Boston all day.

As we walked the crowded streets, an old saying popped into my head: “Everybody’s Irish on St. Patrick’s Day” and it got the genealogist in me thinking.

From 1845 until 1850, Ireland’s population of 8.5 million people suffered immensely of starvation and disease due to one of the 19th century’s greatest catastrophes, “The Great Hunger.” Brought on by potato crops devastated by a disease known as potato blight, one third of Ireland’s population — which depended on the potato as their main source of food — watched helplessly as their crops were ravaged. To make matters worse, the British government added to Ireland’s suffering by continuing to export large quantities of food and livestock from Ireland despite the fact that people were dying of hunger.

While a million people died of starvation and disease, half a million people were evicted from their homes, thrown into a life of poverty. As a result, in a desperate attempt to survive, two million of them left Ireland emigrating to England, Scotland, Australia, Canada and the United States.

Although Boston was quick to respond to the potato famine, sending 800 tons of food, supplies and clothing to Ireland in March 1847, Bostonians were less than thrilled when Irish refugees began pouring into their city by the thousands. In 1847 alone, 37,000 sick and impoverished Irish immigrants landed in Boston settling along the city’s waterfront in cramped shacks. Fleeing their homeland in hope of survival and opportunity, our Irish ancestors were faced with intolerance and adversity.

As they settled into their run-down flats, our ancestors were then confronted with the challenge of finding work. Due to anti-Irish job discrimination and lack of experience, many found themselves working as servants, which lead to some Americans viewing the Irish as an uneducated servant race. If they weren’t working as servants they took up jobs in factories and worked as laborers. Resented by the American working class for their willingness to work for meager wages, their determination to make it in America was unjustly viewed as greedy and desperate.

Ostracized for their religion and ridiculed for their home life, the Irish were discriminated against on many different levels. Many parents decided to scrap popular Irish names such as Bridget and Patrick in an attempt to Americanize their children, while escaping the derogatory meanings the names had taken on in America. It wasn’t uncommon to find cartoons regularly featured in Boston newspapers depicting the Irish as immoral, illiterate alcoholics who were always looking for a party and a fight.

As I walked the streets of Boston with my boyfriend and friends, I found it impossible not to smile. Surrounded by a sea of people dressed in green, I couldn’t help but wonder how my ancestors would have felt seeing their descendants openly celebrating their Irish heritage in the streets.

Leaving behind the starvation and poverty they faced in Ireland for a fresh start and chance of survival in America was hardly an easy transition. Thanks to their hard work, determination and resilience they were able to survive the famine and make America home.

By Kris Williams

Twitter: @KrisWilliams81

“I lived there. At the Palace of Versailles.”

I didn’t know whether or not to believe him. Dad was, after all, eighty-two, with a touch of dementia.

“I was an intelligence officer serving with General Eisenhower during World War II. My unit lived in the petite écurie, or small stable.”

With one flash of disclosure, my vision of my father shifted. The man who was a wizard with numbers and sequences, who had a passion for detail and who could see patterns from the inside-out had served as an intelligence officer. One sentence and fact gave me a new understanding of my dad — a World War II hero who I suddenly saw with new eyes.

Opening Doors to Understanding
The events in our past are the key that provides significance for our present and future. Our memories show us who we are and bring shape, focus, and purpose to our lives.

Reminiscing tells us where we fit into the master narrative of life and what our existence means. When we reminisce, we draw meaning from the past that tells us who we used to be and who we are today. Reminiscing is normal — for teenagers looking back with embarrassment on childhood memories or older adults reflecting on their past. Because reminiscing helps us learn, it also helps us adapt to change.

And reminiscing can also be a useful tool in helping us develop genealogies by drawing meaningful stories from our family members.

The Value of Reminiscing
Reminiscing can be an especially useful activity for those who are committed to collecting and preserving family stories. Reminiscing serves a number of important purposes:

1. It promotes understanding and connection among individuals and families.
2. It helps us preserve history.
3. It helps us understand our past and create significance for our present and future.

Reflecting can even help us cope with change and adapt to new environments. And when we do it collaboratively, it helps create community and broaden our understanding.

9 Tips for Reminiscing
So how can you start?

First of all, reminiscing is often successful as a group activity of five or six people. If you choose a group setting, be sure

• the room is quiet.
• everyone has equal opportunity to contribute.
• to provide objects or props to stimulate conversation.
• participants are instructed to be comfortable with pauses and silences.
• someone is assigned to record shared memories.
• confidentiality is honored.

The following tips provide a general starting place for reminiscing with elderly:

1. Ask open-ended questions that help the person remember their stories and experiences. Use photos, historical photography books, objects, or mementos to stir memories.
2. If possible, ask others to join you who may have shared the memories or similar memories during that era. Shared experiences often help others remember their own memories.
3. Ask questions that center around the person’s areas of interest and life experiences. Not all memories will be pleasant. Be sensitive to the emotional context of what is being shared and provide encouragement and reassurance. Respect the individual’s right to privacy and need for confidentiality.
4. Break down your questions into particular areas of interest: How did your family member say goodbye to loved ones during the war? What do they remember about seeing their family for the first time when they came home? Where did that take place? Where were they when they first heard the war was over? How did they feel?
5. Record what you learn and use that book, timeline, recording, video, etc. to stimulate future sessions.
6. Show an interest in your loved one’s shared memories. Body language, eye contact, and verbal affirmations indicate that we connect with the individual sharing their story and their experience.
7. Make reflective comments and ask meaningful and appropriate questions.
8. Empathize sensitively, especially if your loved one relates painful emotions.
9. Respond positively to both verbal and non-verbal attempts to communicate.

Reminiscing can help family members connect cross-generationally as you explore common threads of your shared stories. No matter where you may be in your exploration of ancestry, reminiscing can provide keys to growth within your family and your community.

Shelly Beach, MRE, is an expert on Caring.com, the leading online destination for caregivers seeking information and support as they care for aging parents, spouses, and other loved ones. Shelly answers family caregivers’ questions about spirituality and the Christian faith. She’s also the author of Precious Lord, Take My Hand: Meditations for Caregivers; Ambushed by Grace: Help and Hope on the Caregiving Journey; and It Is Well with My Soul: Meditations for Those Living with Illness, Pain, and the Challenges of Aging. For more information about spending time with older adults, see 11 Tips for a Terrific Visit With an Elderly Loved One.

Contributed by Shelly Beach
Caring.com Expert

From a very young age it was not uncommon to find me with my head buried in a coloring book surrounded by crayons. As I got older, I traded my coloring books and crayons for sketchpads, canvas, colored pencils, pastels, paints and an assortment of other mediums. Art was something I loved and, in many ways, it acted as a kind of therapy — it calmed me at the end of a crazy school day.

In high school the majority of my classes were art classes; there was no place I’d rather be. To be honest, without trying to sound full of myself, it was the one class that I found to be an easy A, even when I turned in work that was unfinished. I will not get into how much that irritated some of my classmates — who struggled or really had to work at it. For me, art was always something that just came naturally and I took pride in it.

As a kid, I was painfully shy. I was the girl who sat in the back of the class and didn’t speak unless spoken to. I hated attention of any kind and avoided it at all costs, except when it came to my artwork. It was a funny thing; I enjoyed the attention my work got from my classmates while I quietly hid behind it.

My weekends usually consisted of sitting around the dining room table listening to music and drawing with my brother, sister, cousins and my Uncle Joe. We’d sit there with comic books open, redrawing the pictures inside two to three times larger than they were. All of us could draw but I really looked up to my uncle. I was always amazed by his drawings, shading and use of color. I wanted so badly to be able to draw like him, and I remember him telling me, “You keep at it and when you’re my age you’ll be better at this than me…”

I had a hard time believing that.

But when I was younger, I never really put much thought into how many people in my family could draw. I was told many stories of my grandfather’s younger brother who was an artist in Texas, well-known for his oil paintings of the Wild West. I also heard tales about my great grandfather Dennis Hughes, a commercial artist in Boston who had been offered a job to work for Disney (however he turned the job down when he decided a talking mouse was ridiculous and would never catch on).

Then there is my grandfather Robert Hughes, Dennis’ son, who has always been known in my family as an artist and builder. Although my grandfather was involved in several projects in and around Boston, one of his biggest career achievements came with his involvement in Alexander Calder’s 1976 Untitled mobile that hangs in the east building of the National Art Gallery in Washington D.C.

Originally the mobile was to be built in Paris out of steel, but the plans changed when they realized Calder’s design would be too heavy. Instead it would be made of aluminum and titanium with my grandfather hired to lead in the building of Calder’s project. Today a picture of the 76-foot long, 920-pound mobile hangs in my grandparents house, along with a small picture of my grandfather shaking hands with Alexander Calder and Paul Matisse, Grandson of artist Henri Matisse, also involved in the project.

It wasn’t until I began researching my family that the list of family artists and their stories continued to grow. When I asked my grandparents questions I was surprised to find out that my great-grandfather Percy Leslie was also talented in art. As a young child living in Nova Scotia, the local women would ask him to draw designs on burlap bags that they would then follow to make a latch hook rug.

As Percy aged, his wife and children also saw his talent and encouraged him to pursue it. He eventually contacted an art school that sent him an image to redraw freehand; he then mailed in his work to be graded. When Percy finally received a response from the school he was surprised to see that he failed the test. Apparently he had done so well, they accused him of tracing. This is an accusation many of the artists in my family have experienced over the years — even myself. However, unlike my great grandfather, I have learned to take it as a compliment.

My love of genealogy continued to grow along with the list of artists in my family, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this talent was something that could be passed on through generations.

After all, I found many of my friends who had a natural understanding or talent in art, music, athletics, mathematics, and so on shared a similar experience. They came from a family that shared the same strengths and while their peers struggled to succeed in a particular subject, they would excel with little or no effort. For some reason, it just clicked.

I suppose some could argue that these talents could have been created by the environment the person was raised in. Yet I still can’t help but wonder if there is more to it — maybe something even genetic?

Regardless, I enjoy knowing that I possess a talent in art shared with so many of my family members and ancestors. I also look forward to the day I have children, to see if it’s a skill that will also develop in them.

By Kris Williams
Twitter: KrisWilliams81

Most people get into paranormal investigation for their love and interest in the supernatural. For me, that was not the case. Although my family and I shared several unexplainable experiences, it was my love of history that pulled me in.

Paranormal investigation has brought me to historic locations across the United States and around the world. These locations opened my eyes to places and people I never knew existed. Many of their stories, which are stranger than any fiction, have left me amazed, horrified and even inspired. One of the stories that still comes to mind is a famous 12^th century English castle, believed to be haunted by a queen’s broken heart.

Rising Castle, built in 1140 AD, is located in the English countryside. This beautiful, old stone structure stands surrounded by a wall of dirt carpeted with grass and wild flowers. Inside its walls lay a labyrinth of rooms connected by narrow passageways and spiral staircases. It is within these passageways, staircases and rooms that people claim to see unexplainable shadow figures, and hear the sounds of footsteps and inconsolable sobbing. To get a better understanding of this supposed haunt, let’s take a look at the life of a previous resident who locals believe is responsible for the activity.

Queen Isabella of France was born to King Philip IV of France and Queen Joan I of Navarre in Paris around 1295. From the time Isabella was an infant, her father had promised her in marriage to King Edward II of England to resolve territorial conflicts between France and England.

As a child, following the death of her mother, Isabella was raised by the family’s nurse. Growing up in palaces around Paris, she was given a good education and developed a strong love for books covering topics such as history, astrology, geometry and romance. She grew to be known for her high level of intelligence, charm, diplomatic ways and beauty. However it was a rare talent she developed of rallying people to follow her that would eventually lead to the fall of her husband.

At the age of 12, on January 25, 1308, Isabella married King Edward II of England at Boulogne-sur-Mer. Their marriage was hardly a story of “happily ever after.” From the beginning of their marriage her husband King Edward was rumored to have questionable relationships with other men he had taken a particular liking to. In many ways he was known to have held these men in higher regard than he did Isabella. It was then up to this child bride to use her intelligence and diplomatic nature to find her place within the marriage and political arena.

Piers Gaveston — a soldier described as arrogant, reckless and headstrong — was the first of her husband’s favorites that Isabella was forced to contend with. Although Edward held Gaveston in his good graces, he was strongly disliked by the English barons and Isabella’s father King Philip IV of France. This led to his brief exile to Ireland. After his return to England, the baron’s dislike for Gaveston caused his execution in 1311 following Edward’s failed campaign against Scotland.

Having narrowly escaped capture by the Scots, and despite the civil war that broke out in England against Edward and Gaveston, Isabella stood by her husband. Turning to her family back in France, she wrote asking her uncles for their support of her husband while she worked to make allies of her own.

During this time of turmoil in England, Isabella gave birth to the future king Edward III and soon found herself once again second in her husband’s eyes.

While Edward looked to get revenge for Gaveston’s death, he found a new favorite and confidant in Hugh Despenser the younger.  Being the same age as Edward, Hugh Despenser also shared common enemies. As England struggled through famine, financial problems, continuous failed campaigns against Scotland led by Edward and his power struggle with the barons, Isabella tried, unsuccessfully, to work with Hugh Despenser. The barons who also disliked Hugh, reached out to Isabella asking her to publicly request that Edward exile him to prevent a war.

The Despenser’s exile was short lived. It wasn’t long before Edward formed a plan to bring back Hugh while defeating the barons. Together Edward and Hugh ruled and imposed a harsh revenge confiscating land, and imprisoning or executing their enemies along with punishing their enemies’ extended family members. They eventually turned their sights on Isabella, leaving her behind to fend for herself during one of Edward’s campaigns against the Scottish. They stripped her of her land and household, arrested and imprisoned her French staff. The custody of her children were given to the Despensers after she refused to take an oath of loyalty to them. Isabella, betrayed by her husband, now looked to take radical actions against him and Hugh Despenser the younger.

As tensions between England and France continued to rise, Isabella saw a chance to act. When Edward refused to pay homage to her brother, King Charles IV of France, her uncle began attacking and taking land under English control. Afraid to leave England — because he thought the barons would use the opportunity to rebel against him and the Despensers — he sent Isabella to France as an ambassador. To mend the tension created by Edward’s disrespect, Isabella agreed to a truce promising her son Edward III would come to France to pay homage in his father’s behalf.

With her son’s arrival, Isabella’s plan was put into action when she refused to return to England. Edward II began sending urgent messages to King Charles for the return of Isabella and his son Edward III, to which Charles responded that the “queen has come of her own will and may freely return if she wishes. But if she prefers to remain here, she is my sister and I refuse to expel her.”

Isabella and Edward’s marriage was clearly over. Dressing as a widow she publicly claimed that it was Hugh Despenser that destroyed their marriage. She then fell in love with Roger Mortimer.

Roger Mortimer was an English lord, husband and father of 12 who had been arrested and imprisoned at the Tower of London by Edward II. Following his escape from the Tower, he fled to France for safety where he was eventually introduced to Isabella. As Isabella worked to assemble a court she also promised her son in marriage to Philippa, daughter of count William I of Hainault, in exchange for a large dowry. With the dowry and a loan from her brother Charles, Isabella and Roger raised an army to defeat their common enemies, Edward II and the Despensers.

After setting sail from France with their army, Isabella and Roger landed in England with little resistance. As their army swept inland, it only continued to grow in size as others opposed to Edward II’s regime joined her forces. As word of Isabella’s success and advance reached Edward, he managed to flee to Wales.  After recovering her children from the Despensers, Edward and Hugh were finally captured.

As punishment, Hugh Despenser was dragged by a horse and presented to Isabella and Roger in front of a large crowd. He was then hanged, castrated and drawn and quartered, while his father Hugh Despenser the elder was captured, killed and fed to the local dogs. Most of Edward and Hugh’s major supporters were executed while those with a smaller role were pardoned. As for Edward II, he was deposed and placed under house arrest for the rest of his life only to die a sudden and mysterious death in which the possibility of Isabella and Roger’s involvement is still debated.

Following the arrest of Edward II, Prince Edward was confirmed as Edward III. Being far too young to lead the country, Isabella was appointed regent. Together, Isabella and Roger Mortimer ruled over England for four years. In those four years the pair became obsessed with accumulating wealth and land, while their former supporters began to question Isabella’s rule and Roger’s behavior.

Isabella’s son Edward III then married and became increasingly annoyed by Roger’s display of power. After working quietly to gather support, Edward III followed through with his plot to take control of England. Surprising Isabella and Roger at Nottingham Castle with 23 armed men, Edward III arrested Roger. Isabella begged her son to have mercy on her lover, and while she avoided execution, Roger was not so lucky. Though Edward III did show him some mercy — by not having him disemboweled or quartered.

After spending a short time under house arrest at Windsor Castle, Isabella moved into her own castle, Castle Rising. It is here that Isabella was reported to have suffered from fits of madness over the death of her love Roger Mortimer.

Isabella was promised in marriage to Edward II as an infant. She was a young woman who had a love for romance novels only to become a queen that was unloved and betrayed by her king. She then gave birth to a son who would grow to execute the only man she ever loved.

Could Queen Isabella be haunting the halls of Rising Castle, still mourning the death of Roger Mortimer? No one could really say for sure, but this is what some locals believe. Learning her story breathed life into what was otherwise just a beautiful stone shell, known as Rising Castle.

Despite Isabella’s flaws and the fact that history has dubbed her as the She-wolf of France, it was hard not to be impressed by her determination and accomplishments. It is also upsetting to think of her still roaming the halls of Rising Castle grieving, hundreds of years after Roger Mortimer’s death.

By Kris Williams
Twitter: KrisWilliams81

The Japanese military attack on the Pearl Harbor naval base in Hawaii on Dec. 7, 1941, thrust the United States into WWII. It wasn’t long after that, Australia and New Zealand found themselves also under threat of Japanese attacks. While the majority of Australia’s soldiers fought alongside the British Royal Army against the Germans in the Middle East and Africa, the Japanese made their way through South Asia and South Pacific with little resistance. It was then that Australia and the United States joined forces to stop their military expansion.

My grandfather was one of a million American servicemen who found himself in Australia during World War II. While Australians had popular Hollywood movies to familiarize them with American culture, Americans knew very little about Australia or its citizens. Our soldiers were in a foreign land trying to make sense of the currency, a new environment, unfamiliar foods and, of course, colorful Australian slang.

On my recent trip to Canberra, Australia’s capital city, I visited the Australian War Memorial. I was beyond impressed and moved by the Australian War Memorial’s collection and its presentation of the artifacts. The memorial was filled with detailed dioramas and paintings that depicted battles, along with pictures of soldiers paired with stories of their bravery. Some displays left me speechless, such as the restored planes paired with a large screen that played re-enactments of air battles which brought the aircraft’s history back to life. Another exhibit – a wall of thousands of names of soldiers who died in battle – was decorated with small red flowers called poppies. The wall left me with an overwhelming sadness that I could only compare to what I felt on my first visit to the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C.

After spending the afternoon wandering through this shrine to Australia’s fallen heroes, my curiosity was piqued by a little blue book found in the gift shop. The book titled, Instructions for American Servicemen in Australia 1942 was reproduced from the original which was created by the Special Service Division, Services of Supply, United States Army, and issued by the War and Navy Departments Washington, D.C. Although our soldiers presence was mostly welcomed due to our countries’ common goal, that didn’t mean there wasn’t some tension. In order to try and avoid any unneeded drama, this small booklet was produced and issued to each American soldier arriving to Australia, familiarizing them with the Australian people, land, history and culture.

The book mainly focused on our similarities as relatively new countries with British roots. It described Australia as made up of proud, independent people who believed in the importance of personal freedom and democracy. A brief history was given of their involvement in past wars and their record as well-respected, brave soldiers who wouldn’t quit. All of the information covered in the book was used to build respect and a sense of common ground since they were qualities Americans also strived for and respected. More importantly, it stressed the fact we needed Australia’s help just as much as they needed ours.

While the book’s main purpose was to establish a sense of camaraderie between the newly arriving American servicemen and the Australians, at times it tried a little too hard to make that connection. I found some humor as it pushed our mutual love of sports and compared our carnivorous appetite. However, the part that really made me smile can be found at the back of the book, which covers Australian slang. After several of my own visits to Australia, it made me think back on all the words or phrases that ended in funny misunderstandings or left me scratching my head.

Having a grandfather who spent a great deal of time in Australia during World War II, this book was a fun little find. Sometimes it seems as though our loved ones’ service in the South Pacific during World War II isn’t covered as extensively as our involvement in Europe. Not only is this booklet a piece of history, it allowed me a look into the lives of our servicemen; I can only imagine the mixed feeling of excitement for those who had never left the country before, while also knowing there was a chance they might not come home alive.

Here was a book that was most likely issued to my grandfather that found its way into my hands, 67 years after he served, in the country he fought alongside. There is not one day that goes by that I haven’t wished I asked my grandfather more about his service and his time in Australia. I know he really would have gotten a kick out of my trips to the country he always wished to return to for a visit. It is small unexpected surprises like this that help me put his story together and make me like to think he’s still with me.

By Kris Williams
Twitter: KrisWilliams81

Over the years, I find two enjoyable aspects to researching my family are meeting distant cousins who are also into genealogy, and getting the chance to trade our research. I have been surprised by how close genealogy can bring two people together who would otherwise just be considered strangers.

Research has brought many amazing people into my life who have become just as close as my immediate family; we’ve helped each other break through roadblocks and identified unknown faces in family photos, as well as shared letters, family stories, research and laughs. We found excitement in collaborating on all of our hard work and watching the joy we brought to each other through it.

Unfortunately though, like everything else in life, there are also people who like to ruin the fun for others. If you have been researching your family long enough, you have likely come into contact with a genealogy grinch or two. They always have an excuse to not share their information – even after you’ve sent all of yours. Sometimes they don’t bother with excuses; they just flat out refuse to share any of their photos, records, etc. This is by far my biggest pet peeve when it comes to genealogy.

While most were happy to answer questions and add their photos, records and stories – thrilled someone cared and wanted to be a part of it – others promised to send their information but never followed through. However, they took great pride in showing off their work at family reunions and get-togethers. I have also had some people say flat they didn’t have pictures of particular people, only to find out they did. I could never wrap my head around this need to keep everything for themselves. I mean, it’s not like I was expecting them to just hand over all of their original documents and photos when I only wanted copies.

There are so many ways to share information now that there really is no excuse. From making photocopies, scanning, burning a disk, emailing, to uploading your tree and photos for sharing on sites like Ancestry.com, the options are endless. So why be the grinch ruining it for everyone else?

If you are guilty of being a genealogy grinch, stop and remember why you got into genealogy in the first place. Chances are you wanted to get to know your family’s past, keep your lost loved ones alive and hoped to learn a bit about yourself along the way.

Now ask yourself: Why would you want to be a dead-end for someone else who is hoping to do the same?

By Kris Williams
Twitter: KrisWilliams81

While doing some research for my blog, “America’s First Official Thanksgiving,” I was surprised by how little we are taught about Tisquantum. A Native American from the Patuxet tribe, better known as “Squanto,” he is remembered for his role in the survival of the Pilgrims at Plymouth colony.

When the Pilgrims arrived on the shores of Massachusetts in November 1620, they were confronted by a hostile environment. Their first winter in New England was not an easy one. Of the 102 passengers and 30 crewmembers who made the voyage from England on the Mayflower, only 53 pilgrims survived. Having battled the weather, starvation and disease, those remaining were then faced with the challenge of living and farming on unfamiliar land.

It was March 1621 that Squanto made his first appearance to the pilgrims in Plymouth colony. As we are taught in school, being able to speak English, he taught them how to hunt wildlife for food, catch eels and use fish to fertilize and grow crops. In time he also became an interpreter for the pilgrims, opening a line of communication between them and the local tribes hostile towards the English colonists.

This is the extent of information we are usually taught in school that ends in one big happy Thanksgiving dinner. However, did you ever stop and wonder how Squanto learned English? Or did you ever find yourself questioning why the natives were so hostile towards the arriving colonists?

In 1614 Captain John Smith arrived in the New England area looking to map out its coastline. With several ships under his command, he also looked to establish trade with the natives, in hopes of paving the way for a colony in New England. To start this process, Smith decided to leave behind one of his ships under the command of Captain Thomas Hunt while he continued on with his mapping expedition.

But Hunt had other plans. He lured 24 Nauset and Patuxet natives onto his ship, taking them captive, where he planned to sell them as slaves in Malaga, Spain. The kidnappings enraged the Nauset and Patuxet tribes, making them extremely hostile towards other European ships that tried to land in New England.

In Spain, Hunt sold many of his Native American captives as slaves until local friars discovered his plan. Disgusted, the friars stepped in, taking the remaining natives – one of which was Squanto – to instruct them in the Christian faith. At some point, Squanto left the care of the friars and made his way to London where he lived and worked with a shipbuilder, John Slany.  It was during those few years living with Slany that Squanto began to really pick up the English language.

Working as the treasurer of the Newfoundland Company, Slany was given orders to make a trip to Cuper’s Cove colony in Newfoundland, hiring Squanto to come along as an interpreter. It was on this trip that Squanto met captain Thomas Dermer, who was employed by the New England Company. Knowing the New England Company was still determined to make a profit through trade with the Patuxet and Nauset natives in New England, Dermer suggested Squanto as a solution. Returning to England, plans were made for a return to New England with Squanto’s help as a possible peacemaker and interpreter.

Following the kidnappings by Captain Hunt, the Native Americans had faced another tragedy due to the arrival of our European ancestors. From 1618-1619 a devastating plague, believed today to be either small pox or tuberculosis, wiped out many New England coastal tribes. Having no natural immunity from diseases the European traders carried, in 1619 as part of Dermer’s exploratory expedition of New England, Squanto returned to his village to find that no one from his tribe survived. Left behind by Dermer following the discovery, Squanto reached out to the Wampanoag and Massasoit for a place to reside.

In November 1620 the pilgrims arrived at the former site of the Patuxet’s village, which would later become known as Plymouth Colony. Following the plague Squanto’s village sat abandoned, believed by the natives to be cursed making it relatively easy for the Pilgrims to settle with little trouble from surrounding tribes. Continuing to live out of the Mayflower from November 1620 until March 1621, the pilgrims worked to build their colony on shore.

Following the colony’s completion, Squanto made his first appearance in the village, which lead to his role as an interpreter between the pilgrims and Wampanoag. Appointed as a liaison to the pilgrims by Wampanoag leader Massasoit, Squanto taught them how to survive in New England while helping them negotiate peace treaties and establish trading relations with the surrounding tribes.

But it did not take long for both the Wampanoag and the pilgrims to distrust Squanto. Being the only person with an understanding of both the local language and the English language, both sides began to suspect Squanto was using his power for his own personal benefit. The lack of trust that developed between the Wampanoag and Squanto nearly cost him his life.

Believing Squanto was abusing his authority as interpreter, Massasoit demanded that the pilgrims hand him over to be put to death. The pilgrims refused – as much as we would like to think it was strictly due to the friendship built with Squanto, the reality is the pilgrims depended on him for their own survival and gain. The pilgrims’ refusal caused a great amount of tension between them and Massasoit.

Though he escaped that situation, it wasn’t long after that Squanto’s life came to an end.

In November 1622, just two years after the pilgrims arrival, Squanto’s nose began to bleed while on a trading trip with Plymouth Colony’s Governor Bradford. While some like to suspect he was poisoned, Squanto informed Governor Bradford that the bleeding and fever was a sign of death among the natives.

In Bradford’s written history of Plymouth colony he wrote:

“Here Squanto fell ill of Indian fever, bleeding much at the nose, which the Indians take as a symptom of death, and within a few days he died. He begged the Governor to pray for him, that he might go to the Englishman’s God in heaven, and bequeathed several of his things to his English friends, as remembrances. His death was a great loss.”

After looking into the life of the man who played a large role in the survival of my pilgrim ancestors, I can’t help but feel horrible for him. Having been kidnapped to be sold as a slave, then rescued, only to be pushed into a religion that was not his own, his knowledge of the English language came strictly as result of trying to survive in a foreign land.

I am also willing to bet, after living overseas for five years only to return home to find all of his loved ones had died – which forced him to reach out to another tribe for survival – he must have felt like an outsider. If the accusations against him were true, looking at things from that angle, it wouldn’t be so hard to understand why he may have abused his newfound power.

Squanto’s life was hardly the happily ever-after portrayed in our modern holiday, and his story is another example of our selective memory when it comes to our nation’s history.

By Kris Williams
Twitter: KrisWilliams81

Located on the banks of the James River in Charles City County, Va., is the Berkeley Plantation, a three-story brick mansion with a lot of history.

Built by Benjamin Harrison IV, it is the birthplace of descendants Benjamin Harrison V, a signer of the Declaration of Independence; William Henry Harrison, the ninth president of the United States; and the ancestral home of Benjamin Harrison, the twenty-third president.

But along with a list of prominent residents, the Berkley Plantation is also the purported site of the first official American Thanksgiving.

Now, if you are anything like me, I was quick to dispute this. After all, especially being a New Englander, we were all taught the first Thanksgiving took place in the Plymouth Colony in Massachusetts. When the Mayflower arrived on the shores of Massachusetts, with its 102 passengers and about 30 crewmembers, it was welcomed by a harsh November climate. Due to exposure, disease and shortages of food, only 53 Pilgrims survived their first New England winter.

Were it not for the help of Squanto and the Wampanoag people, those 53 Pilgrims may not have had anything to be thankful for. Squanto is known for teaching the Pilgrims how to catch eel and grow crops, as well as acting as interpreter between them and the Wampanoag. Along with Squanto’s help, the Wampanoag leader Massasoit supplied the Pilgrims with food the first winter when supplies from England fell short.

Due to the help they received, the surviving Pilgrims of the Mayflower in early autumn of 1621 enjoyed their first successful harvest. To celebrate the occasion, a three-day feast was held attended by Massasoit, about 90 of his people, Squanto and the Pilgrims. This three-day event of games, singing and dancing while two cultures sat down sharing a meal is what has been romanticized by history as our first Thanksgiving.

However, a historian working at the Berkeley Plantation was kind enough to explain that the traditional meaning of Thanksgiving was strictly a religious observance. In the past it revolved entirely around days of prayer.

Thanksgiving was not an occasion designed with the sole purpose of eating until your stomach explodes (followed up by hours of football) like it has become today.  The Berkeley Plantation also argues there is no evidence that the Pilgrims declared their festival as a Thanksgiving.

Due to overpopulation, unemployment, poverty and a failing woolen industry, people in England looked to the New World as an opportunity for a better life. Looking for religious freedom, fortune and a bit of adventure, many boarded ships to settle in Virginia Colony. While many settlers fought to survive the horrible living conditions in Jamestown, four men in England planned settlement of what would become known as the Berkeley Hundred in Virginia.

With an 8,000-acre land grant along the James River from the London Company, William Throckmorton, Richard Berkeley, George Thorpe and John Smyth looked to make their fortune in tobacco crops.  Together, they commissioned Captain John Woodlief to lead the expedition and the assignment of establishing a government for the Berkeley Hundred.

On Sept. 16, 1619, Throckmorton, Berkeley, Thorpe, Smyth and Woodlief boarded the Good Ship Margaret in Kingrode, Bristol, England. Margaret carried a total of 38 men, all handpicked by Woodlief for their strength and skill. Also on board were large supplies of food, tools, weapons, construction and agricultural tools – as well as goods to trade with the natives.

Barely surviving the two and a half-month journey across the stormy Atlantic, the 47-ton, 35-foot-long ship finally arrived at its destination on Dec. 4, 1619. Once all 38 men were rowed to shore with their personal belongings, they all knelt as Captain Woodlief led them in prayer.

Following the specific requests of the London Company, Woodlief declared, “We ordaine that this day of our ships arrival, at the place assigned for plantacon, in the land of Virginia, shall be yearly and perpetually kept holy as a day of Thanksgiving to Almighty God.”

And it is this well-documented event that the Berkeley Plantation believes is the first official American Thanksgiving.

It is hard to deny the documents; the fact is this event took place almost two years before the Pilgrims’ harvest celebration – and it fits the traditional meaning of Thanksgiving. Yet the Berkeley Plantation cannot deny our modern national holiday, declared by Abraham Lincoln in 1863, more closely resembles the celebration of the Pilgrims in Plymouth Colony.

Regardless of where it was originally held, and our need as humans to always be the first, to me it has always been the spirit of the holiday that’s most important. It is about being tolerant and learning to appreciate each other’s differences, which is something our colonist ancestors did not excel at despite the stories we’ve been taught.

The holiday also serves as a reminder to be thankful for, and celebrate, the positive aspects in our lives – such as time with our family, friends and good health. In the end, these are important lessons that should be remembered throughout the year, beyond our one-day celebration of overdosing on turkey and pumpkin pie.

By Kris Williams
Twitter: KrisWilliams81

On the surface Herman Webster Mudgett seemed to be a productive member of society. Born and raised in the small state of New Hampshire, Herman turned his fascination with the human body into a career when he graduated from the University of Michigan Medical School in 1884. Wealthy, well-educated and refined, the young doctor moved to Chicago where he became the owner of a drugstore, and eventually opened a hotel. Women were drawn to the handsome, finely-dressed and charismatic businessman.

He was a total lady-killer.

The 60-room hotel loomed over the Englewood suburb of Chicago, opening its doors shortly before the 1893 World’s Fair. Beneath the cover of a successful entrepreneur, Herman Webster Mudgett – better known as H.H. Holmes – designed the hotel with one thing in mind: murder. During construction, Holmes used several different contractors so that none of them would catch on to his monstrous plans. The hotel, or “Murder Castle,” came complete with stairways to nowhere, windowless rooms fitted with gas lines and body chutes used to drop his sedated victims down to the basement level.

Once in the underbelly of the castle, victims were subjected to real-life horrors that would make Dexter’s “Dark Passenger” sit up and take notice. The basement came complete with vats of acid, lime pits, an oven and a surgical table. It was here that Dr. H.H. Holmes, the living-breathing monster – worse than anything Hollywood could ever imagine – dissected his victims, selling their organs and skeletons to medical schools across the country.

Located just two miles away from the World’s Fair, H.H. Holmes had a steady flow of female victims to choose from and many times he profited off of more than just their bodies. It was while studying at the University of Michigan Medical School that he also became proficient in the art of insurance fraud. Holmes would regularly steal cadavers from the school, taking insurance policies out on the deceased. He would then disfigure the bodies to claim they had been killed in an accident so he could collect on the insurance. Later, with his living victims, Holmes would befriend and manipulate them into signing over power of attorney. Shortly after, the trusting victims would wake to find themselves in the basement of Holmes’ castle.

Dr. Henry Howard Holmes, America’s first serial killer, was eventually caught and hanged for his crimes on May 7, 1896, at Moyamensing prison in Philadelphia. Convicted of murder, he admitted to killing 27 people, but was believed to be guilty of up to 200 murders. Holmes was laid to rest in an unmarked grave, encased in 10 feet of cement at nearby Holy Cross Cemetery. After months of dominating newspaper headlines and redefining the nightmares of their readers, Herman Webster Mudgett was left to be forgotten.

Although H.H. Holmes has been dead and buried for over a century, his genes live on. At the end of his life, he was married to three different women and had an unknown number of mistresses and children.

When we set out looking to uncover the history of our families, most are excited and motivated by the thought of finding connections to war heroes, presidents, the Mayflower or even royalty. However, what we don’t consider is the fact we may unearth skeletons our family has been trying to keep hidden for generations.

This was the reality for Jeff Mudgett, author of “Bloodstains” and second great grandson of Herman Webster Mudgett. At the age of 40, Jeff learned of the monster he descends from, and it left him questioning everything he thought he knew about himself and his family. The new information forever changed him, propelling him down a new path in search of the truth.

However, diving into Holmes’ life only led him down a darker path; a path that could potentially solve the mystery of Jack the Ripper. In 2006, using 13 eyewitness accounts from 1888, Scotland Yard and the BBC had a computer composite made of the Ripper, and the similarities to Holmes are shocking. Along with the composite, Jeff had H.H. Holmes’ handwriting compared to the infamous Jack the Ripper letter. One expert, recommended by the British Library, concluded both were written by the “same hand,” while a computer program used by the Postal Service and Department of Justice stated it was a 97.95% match.

Jeff is currently investigating whether Holmes was in London during the Ripper, but in the mean time, the composite and handwriting samples can be viewed on his site at www.bloodstainsthebook.com. Could these two men be the same monster? Judge for yourself.

If you were faced with the reality of descending from a man like Holmes, how would you handle the information? Would you share it with your family or throw the skeleton back into the closet you found it in? History holds just as many villains as it does heroes, so would you have the guts to claim yours as publicly as Jeff has in his book?

If you want to learn more about H.H. Holmes, and hear how his descendants have coped with this, check out my new video blog “Claiming Your Villain” where Jeff Mudgett helps me tackle a question I often receive: “Are some genealogy secrets better off forgotten?” He will also share how he’s grown from this experience, and gives others advice on how to handle their own dark discoveries.

Watch the interview with Jeff here:

By Kris Williams
Twitter: KrisWilliams81