What are the foundations of
tracing your family tree? A desire to
find out where you come from, to learn more about your relations and the places
they lived in, what they did for a living or just being plain nosy? For me, back in the 1970s, it was a school
project to tie in with HM The Queen’s Silver Jubilee and the knowledge that my paternal
grandmother would have been 100 if she had lived.
I was lucky as most of my aunts
and uncles were still alive and I spoke to them all to glean little bits of
family information, photographs, and reminiscences.
I only had one grandparent still
alive, my Mum’s Dad, a veteran of the First World War, who used to tell me
stories of bully beef, tea and being blown up and lying in a shell hole crater,
stories which my Mum and her siblings had heard may times before. Me, being the youngest grandchild, lapped
them up. I was also reverently told
about Granddad’s younger brother Ernie, whose photo was on the wall directly in
front of Granddad’s chair at his home, who was killed. I was the recipient of Ernie’s medals and
scroll, a very precious family treasure, given to me by Granddad. Uncle Ernie will never be forgotten – I
always look for his name on the Hitchin War Memorial when we visit the town. My
Mum’s Mum, Nana Morgan, died when I was 2 years old, so I have no real
recollection of her, apart from a lady in a bed. She had been bedridden since a stroke several
years before.
Mum always told me that a person
is never forgotten if their name is remembered and stories about them handed
down to the next generation. This has
stuck with me throughout my years of family history research.
My Mum and her siblings could
remember their grandparents well, as could some of my cousins. I was also lucky that on various trips to the
local council Cemetery in Hitchin, Hertfordshire, Mum pointed out to me the
gravestones of her grandparents’ parents.
I can still find them.
My Dad’s sisters were also very
helpful with their side of the family.
Both my grandparents had died before I was born, and most of my uncles. My Dad’s Mum had died when he was only 11
months old, so his eldest sister, Vi, was very special to him as she had really
brought up the family until she married.
Me, being the youngest
grandchild, somewhat mucked up the generations with some of my cousins 30+
years older with children older than me.
This however could be an advantage as I could gather first-hand
knowledge of people who had died long before I was born. By this method of talking to relations, such
as my grandparents’ cousins, I came to learn about the characters of my Great
Grandparents on both sides of the family.
It is all well and good researching dates of birth, baptism, marriage/s,
death, and burial, but to put flesh on the bones of your ancestors, the
anecdotes, descriptions and stories about the person make them come alive, and
seeing a photograph, if you are lucky enough to be shown or inherit one.
Family knowledge passed down
through the generations is a good starting point for any research.
With my Mum’s family I was fortunate
as they were resident in the same locality in Hertfordshire back to Gt-Gt
Grandparents, and, as I have subsequently found out, many generations further
back.
With my Dad’s family, who had
lived in Hertfordshire since the late 1890s and been one of the pioneer
families living in Letchworth, the World’s First Garden City, their story took
me back to London and then to Suffolk. I
was a family mantra that we were descended from ‘Charles and Betsey Nickels
from Orford in Suffolk’.
Stories of my ancestors, the
publicans, the agricultural labourers, the mariners, plumbers, and music hall
artistes fired my imagination and was the impetus to start researching the
family in more depth. Were those stories
correct or ‘embroidered’! There’s always
more to find out.
The 1970s is a long time ago and
the ways in which we research has changed, but the methodical way of proving
each part of the story have not. Work
backwards from yourself, ‘proving’ each step by way of documentary evidence,
photographs and stories which can be researched further by using the internet, talking
to your relations, and joining relevant groups specialising in family and local
history.
Family history is personal but
also inclusive. Everyone’s family has a
story to tell. For some it is easy, for
some hard, for some of what you find out about your ancestors and relatives’
lives is difficult to digest with a 21st century mind. Lives were different in the last and proceeding
centuries. Rising up, or sliding down,
the social scale, better education and emancipation could alter the fortunes of
families, especially in the 19th and 20th centuries. Where your family lived and the occupations
open to them, or lack of same, could be the reason why people moved, as my
family did from Suffolk to London in the 19th century. Some stayed put, with the family links being
maintained over many generations in different parts of the country. There was still a genuine fear of ending up
in the Workhouse for my Mum’s parents’ generation, with her older relations
refusing to go into the local cottage hospital as it was in the same building
as the Workhouse.
Memories can colour family
history, for good or ill. An impression
of a person can be different within a family group and generations. My paternal grandfather, who I never knew,
was a strict father to his 8 children, but this attitude may have been coloured
by his own upbringing. We learn from our
parents, or carers. From the photographs I have of this
grandfather I get the impression he was a hard-working man with
responsibilities, who looks likeable, and a ‘spitting image’ of my own father.
My Aunts found him harsh - woe betide
you if you were late home! The children
were beaten with a leather belt with a buckle for their flouting of his ‘rules’. He had a hard life. Born in London in 1880, he had two older full
sisters, one of whom died at 17, and a much older half-sister who produced an
illegitimate daughter who was brought up as his younger sister. A Plumber, like
his Dad. Widowed with 6 children during the first world war when he was working
in the North, his elderly mother and half-sister helped with the children after
his first wife’s death. In 1919 he
married again, a lady he had met in Sunderland, who was not popular with
his 6 children. There were two further children
before he was again widowed in the early 1920s.
His eldest son was killed riding his motorbike when a horse was spooked,
ran into the road, and trod on Alf’s head. My Dad hated motorbikes. Granddad married
for a third time late in life to ‘The Duchess’, a widow with 10 children who he
had known for years.
His eight children, from both
marriages, did well. They had trades or
their own businesses, or in the case of the girls married well and happily. By
the time he died in 1957, he would have seen many changes in his long life,
from birth and early working life in London, moving to Letchworth to help build
the Garden City, and seen a flourishing family, despite the difficult times and
heartbreak. I didn’t know him so cannot
really judge, but I think I would have liked him.
The foundation of any family
history research is gathering all the information you already have, then going
from the known to the unknown. First, talk to your relatives. See if they have any certificates or other
family papers to help you in your search. A photograph can speak a thousand
words - ask older relatives if they have pictures of their parents, or
grandparents. Ask them, who are the
people, what event was it, where was it.
It is all a jig-saw puzzle, some
bits will remain blank for years, whilst other bits slot in easily.
It is the thrill of the
chase. Are you ready to start your family history
journey?
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