Our
series by Daniel Spelce continues with his exploration of the collections and
various resources at the main Family History Library, and a wonderful find. The FHL has an incredible
collection of materials- 2.4 million rolls of microfilm, 727,000 microfiche,
346,000 books, serials and other formats, 4,500 periodicals and 3,725
electronic resources, mostly for individuals born before 1930. Planning a trip
with CGS enables one to go with fellow members and embark on your family
history research.
series by Daniel Spelce continues with his exploration of the collections and
various resources at the main Family History Library, and a wonderful find. The FHL has an incredible
collection of materials- 2.4 million rolls of microfilm, 727,000 microfiche,
346,000 books, serials and other formats, 4,500 periodicals and 3,725
electronic resources, mostly for individuals born before 1930. Planning a trip
with CGS enables one to go with fellow members and embark on your family
history research.
 |
|
Jane
Lindsey presents an orientation to CGS researchers. Photo: Daniel Spelce |
This morning provided orientation and introduction to the library,
its collections and resources. Jane Knowles Lindsey, seen in the photo above,
to the left, is our trip organizer. We gathered in one of the computer lab
classrooms for a walk through of the FamilySearch.org online program.
its collections and resources. Jane Knowles Lindsey, seen in the photo above,
to the left, is our trip organizer. We gathered in one of the computer lab
classrooms for a walk through of the FamilySearch.org online program.
 |
|
Wall
display of traditional Native American arts, FHL stairwell. Photo: Daniel Spelce |
One of the benefits of genealogy and family history research
is that the activity fosters a realization that our wandering ethnic tethers
ultimately connect in a shared common ancestry, allowing us deeper occasions to
appreciate one another’s humanity and rootedness in the rest of nature. This
beautiful wall display in the first floor-second floor stairwell of the Family
History Library recognizes the vibrancy, elegance, and wisdom of indigenous
Americans.
is that the activity fosters a realization that our wandering ethnic tethers
ultimately connect in a shared common ancestry, allowing us deeper occasions to
appreciate one another’s humanity and rootedness in the rest of nature. This
beautiful wall display in the first floor-second floor stairwell of the Family
History Library recognizes the vibrancy, elegance, and wisdom of indigenous
Americans.
 |
| Nancy Petersen (left) and the CGS group on the 3rd Floor, FHL. Photo: Daniel Spelce |
Throughout the day the FHL fills with people, from the door
opening in the morning to the key turning to lock it closed for the night. Many
of us in the CGS group worked on the third floor, using the exceptional
collection of books usually beyond our reach. Nancy Peterson works at the end
of the table, near a window, in the lower left foreground of the photo (dressed
in green). She’s joining Jane as genealogical sage for our week here. She and
Jane have been co-leading these trips to the FHL since the 1980s.
opening in the morning to the key turning to lock it closed for the night. Many
of us in the CGS group worked on the third floor, using the exceptional
collection of books usually beyond our reach. Nancy Peterson works at the end
of the table, near a window, in the lower left foreground of the photo (dressed
in green). She’s joining Jane as genealogical sage for our week here. She and
Jane have been co-leading these trips to the FHL since the 1980s.
Among my favorite Pete Seeger ditties, one
sings out “Just when I thought all was lost…” Today passed with difficulty for
me. After the morning orientations and lunch I felt ready for some discovery,
some breakthroughs that would make me want to get up and shake a leg and call
out with elation. Alas, the hours pressed swiftly past, quietly, intently, as I
sought out the birth date, birth place, death date, place of death, and (just
maybe) a cause of death for my great grandmother, Emma Buck Spelce, who died
before reaching her 25th birthday. After searching, searching, searching, and scrolling
through the FamilySearch.org catalog (serving as the FHL online catalog)
imagining varying possibilities for finding evidence or record of Emma’s birth
and death, I noticed the sun was throwing longer shadows. I leaned back in my
chair to draw in a refreshing breath of air.
sings out “Just when I thought all was lost…” Today passed with difficulty for
me. After the morning orientations and lunch I felt ready for some discovery,
some breakthroughs that would make me want to get up and shake a leg and call
out with elation. Alas, the hours pressed swiftly past, quietly, intently, as I
sought out the birth date, birth place, death date, place of death, and (just
maybe) a cause of death for my great grandmother, Emma Buck Spelce, who died
before reaching her 25th birthday. After searching, searching, searching, and scrolling
through the FamilySearch.org catalog (serving as the FHL online catalog)
imagining varying possibilities for finding evidence or record of Emma’s birth
and death, I noticed the sun was throwing longer shadows. I leaned back in my
chair to draw in a refreshing breath of air.
While casting a gaze about the large room full of busy genealogists at work, I glanced at a mother and two daughters researching their shared history together. The young family historian using a cell phone to snap photos of pictures she found in books first caught my eye. She was using her smart phone exactly how I imagined myself using one– which led me to buy into the cell-phone century in January. Then, there her sister historian drawing maps she found in the book she was using. Their mother was none other than Sarah Ahlstrom from San Jose, who worked alongside the growing scholars amidst their inspired concentration. Refreshed from this inspiring encounter, I resumed my own research.
 |
| A pair of young family historians at the FHL. Photo: Daniel Spelce |
As the afternoon waded further into the
dimming sunlight, I noticed more and more young people of middle school-, high
school-, and college-age showing up at tables and computer stations. A few with
parents, but most working away with relaxed, confident but dedicated rapture on
their own. I reflected on my experience as a high school classroom history
teacher, the thick books weighing heavy with alien names, dates and places. I
thought about how so many young people wandered, mentally and physically, in
search of an engaging connection with their experience, with who they are.
dimming sunlight, I noticed more and more young people of middle school-, high
school-, and college-age showing up at tables and computer stations. A few with
parents, but most working away with relaxed, confident but dedicated rapture on
their own. I reflected on my experience as a high school classroom history
teacher, the thick books weighing heavy with alien names, dates and places. I
thought about how so many young people wandered, mentally and physically, in
search of an engaging connection with their experience, with who they are.
Soon after leaving formal classroom teaching
in institutional school settings, I found myself wondering just how could one
foster a love of history and writing, share the knowledge, and develop the
skills and wisdom to rouse that marvelous youthful exuberance to willful, broadly
satisfying embrace of self, family, neighborhood, community, and nature. The
people coming to the FHL to find pieces of their family stories are not a
massing of the valedictorians of the school system. These are regular folks
undertaking essentially academic initiative for its own profoundly meaningful
resonance with who they are and who they want to be and who they’ve been,
collectively, communally, spiritually.
in institutional school settings, I found myself wondering just how could one
foster a love of history and writing, share the knowledge, and develop the
skills and wisdom to rouse that marvelous youthful exuberance to willful, broadly
satisfying embrace of self, family, neighborhood, community, and nature. The
people coming to the FHL to find pieces of their family stories are not a
massing of the valedictorians of the school system. These are regular folks
undertaking essentially academic initiative for its own profoundly meaningful
resonance with who they are and who they want to be and who they’ve been,
collectively, communally, spiritually.
From a growing store of conversations, I
appreciate that these academic commoners think critically, wonder sometimes
deeply, and imagine possibilities. Gradually over the months since my parents
died, I’ve devoted time to seeking out my family story, including both my
parents and grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles, whom I’ve known
personally, and also for ancestors and relatives beyond awareness, drifting
aloof in some vague, ethereal void. I’m grateful for growing to appreciate
people and nature for the vast webs of connections and experience our
individuality embeds us in.
appreciate that these academic commoners think critically, wonder sometimes
deeply, and imagine possibilities. Gradually over the months since my parents
died, I’ve devoted time to seeking out my family story, including both my
parents and grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles, whom I’ve known
personally, and also for ancestors and relatives beyond awareness, drifting
aloof in some vague, ethereal void. I’m grateful for growing to appreciate
people and nature for the vast webs of connections and experience our
individuality embeds us in.
The afternoon at the library drew toward
closing, a library staffer counting off the fleeting chunks of time, as clocks
neared the five
o’clock closing hour. At 4:30 pm, Nancy
looked across the table to me, asking how I was doing. I mumbled my continuing
befuddlement. Rallying my spirits she said, earnestly, “Just go find a McHenry
County (Illinois) history. Just go find the McHenry County section and scan the
books. See what you find. You’ve still got time.” With renewed vigor and a call
number in hand to guide me, I dashed into the middle of library stacks.
closing, a library staffer counting off the fleeting chunks of time, as clocks
neared the five
o’clock closing hour. At 4:30 pm, Nancy
looked across the table to me, asking how I was doing. I mumbled my continuing
befuddlement. Rallying my spirits she said, earnestly, “Just go find a McHenry
County (Illinois) history. Just go find the McHenry County section and scan the
books. See what you find. You’ve still got time.” With renewed vigor and a call
number in hand to guide me, I dashed into the middle of library stacks.
Soon I stood before the collection of books
about McHenry County where I think Emma Buck was born. Voilá! My racing eyes
settled on the Biographical Dictionary of
Tax Payers and Voters of McHenry County, 1877. Organized alphabetically by
surname, I found George Buck, Emma’s father (my great grandfather), married
with Elizabeth Milledge (my great, great grandmother), living on 91 acres. The
entry tells the value of the real estate and describes the farming activity and
more. Emma was five years old at the time. I didn’t find Emma’s birth date, but
I learned about the family farm I think she was born on. Tomorrow I’ll return
to copy the entry onto my flash drive and continue looking over the books in
this section. Perhaps I’ll find books describing church, school, and civic
involvement of Marengo (McHenry County, Illinois) area residents. I also
decided I’d use my cell phone to call the McHenry County assessor, the clerk,
and the recorder to ask about the nature of the birth, property, tax, and voter
registration records that might be on file.
about McHenry County where I think Emma Buck was born. Voilá! My racing eyes
settled on the Biographical Dictionary of
Tax Payers and Voters of McHenry County, 1877. Organized alphabetically by
surname, I found George Buck, Emma’s father (my great grandfather), married
with Elizabeth Milledge (my great, great grandmother), living on 91 acres. The
entry tells the value of the real estate and describes the farming activity and
more. Emma was five years old at the time. I didn’t find Emma’s birth date, but
I learned about the family farm I think she was born on. Tomorrow I’ll return
to copy the entry onto my flash drive and continue looking over the books in
this section. Perhaps I’ll find books describing church, school, and civic
involvement of Marengo (McHenry County, Illinois) area residents. I also
decided I’d use my cell phone to call the McHenry County assessor, the clerk,
and the recorder to ask about the nature of the birth, property, tax, and voter
registration records that might be on file.
 |
| View of the Rockies from the FHL window. Photo: Daniel Spelce |
Ah, now I can rest. Isn’t the afternoon sun on
the Rockies a magnificent splendor?
the Rockies a magnificent splendor?
Enjoy lifting voices up and singing,
Dan
Thinking of going to SLC with us in April 2015? Watch our quick and fun video from a past trip—We can’t wait to see you in 2015! http://youtu.be/Jcw8IBBTliQ
Copyright © 2014 by Ellen Fernandez-Sacco, California Genealogical Society and Library.
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