I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.
Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: May 23, 2026
Prompt: “Are there ancestor’s occupations that you know nothing about? Pick a great-grandparent or earlier ancestor who held an unfamiliar job (cooper, cordwainer, hostler, etc.). Look it up and write a short description of what their daily work life might have been like.”
Introduction
Many of us are familiar with the phrase “mad as a hatter,” especially through the Mad Hatter of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The phrase itself predates Carroll, but its association with hatmaking has a grim historical explanation: mercury used in producing felt hats could poison those who worked with it. So, it was a little disturbing to learn that my ancestor, Henry Denny (1758–1839), was identified as a “hatter” in a 1795 land indenture.
But why did hatmakers have this reputation? While there are many theories, I rather believe that the mercury used in producing felt for hats poisoned those who used it. So, it was a little disturbing to learn that my ancestor, Henry Denny (1758-1839) was a “hatter” in a 1795 land indenture.
Discussion
Henry Denny left a lot of documentation around his Revolutionary War service due to his attempts to obtain a pension. He also interacted in the Dutch Reformed Church, as evidenced by the baptisms of his children and by his second marriage. He bought and sold land in New York and New Jersey. Yet he left relatively little documentation for his occupation.
He lived in Bergen County, New Jersey, where he served in the militia in the Revolution and married during the war. He and his wife Mary Young had children there and moved to New York City around the time the last child Helen was born (1795), for reasons unknown. From city directories, I see that by 1795 he had become a tavern keeper who also ran a boarding house starting 1795.
For the record, I have no indication that Henry was affected by mercury poisoning in any way; to the contrary, his pension affidavits indicate a man who retained all his faculties into his ninth decade.
Since the records do not describe Henry’s actual shop or daily routine, I asked ChatGPT for a historically informed sketch of what a hatter’s working life in Hackensack around 1795 might have looked like:
What would working life have been for a hatter in Hackensack, New Jersey, around 1795?
The LLM responded that “Around 1795, a hatter in Hackensack worked at the edge of town and country. Hackensack was a small county-seat village, tied to surrounding farms, courthouse business, taverns, stage routes, and the Hackensack River trade with New York. In a modest shop, perhaps near his home, the hatter turned wool and animal fur into felt hats by dampening, pressing, heating, shaping, stiffening, dyeing, blocking, trimming, and finishing them for local customers. His work served farmers, tradesmen, travelers, and men doing business at the county seat. A fine hat could signal respectability, while a cheaper or repaired hat met everyday needs. The trade required skill and patience, but the shop was likely hot, wet, dusty, smelly, and potentially hazardous if mercury-treated fur was used. In Hackensack, he was probably not a factory worker but a village craftsman: part manufacturer, part repairman, part shopkeeper, and part participant in the town’s web of credit, trade, and community life.”
I may never know why Henry Denny left the occupation behind, but I am enriched by having learned about how he supported his family.
AI Disclosure
This post was written by me with the help of AI tools for organization and editing. The memories, family details, and reflections are my own.
I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.
Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: May 16, 2026
Prompt: “Determine where your ancestral families were in May 1876 — 150 years ago. List them, their family members, their birth years, and their residence location (as close as possible).”
Introduction
150 years ago, for me, means that no one I knew was alive then. Certainly it’s possible but it didn’t happen in my case. So this location-gathering is all evidence-based.
What surprised me as I worked through the list was how scattered they already were. Some families were still in long-familiar places in Suwałki, Staten Island, Morris County, or Ohio. Others were already in motion, recently arrived, orphaned, widowed, separated, or just beginning the moves that would shape the next generation. Looking at May 1876 this way turns a date on the calendar into a family map.
The numbers used will be my children’s ahenentafel numbers.
Discussion
11. Ida Rabinowitz was born as Khaya Rabinovich in 1872 in Vyskie, Seiny, Suwalki (now in Lithuania) to a trader family headed by Mortkhel Rabinovich and Khana Rachkovski (birth record dated 1875), though she later claimed to be born in 1879, consistently shaving seven years off her age. (She married a man born in 1878.) She is the sixth known child, preceded by siblings Sora Leya, Avrum, Shimon, Aron Szimel, and Traina.
16. Bernat Birnbaum (also known as Joe, Bernard) was born in Czechoslovakia. He married FANNY STEINBERG before 1885, as their son Samuel was born in that year. So in May 1876 he was presumably a young man in Czechoslovakia.
17. Fanny Steinbergwas born perhaps in Czechoslovakia. She married BERNARD BIRNBAUM (also known as Joe, Bernat) before 1885, as their son Samuel was born in that year.
18. Joseph Frank was born in April 1852 in Russia. He immigrated to the United States in December 1872 and settled in Manhattan, New York, where he remained for the rest of his life. I have not located him in the United States prior to 1887, so cannot confidently say where he was in May 1876. He was not with family that I know about.
19. Jennie (Sheindel) Felder was born on December 20, 1859, in Austria-Hungary. She emigrated about 1886, so in May 1876 would have been in Austria-Hungary, I suppose with her parents Joseph Felder and Rosie.
20. Szmujl/o Morthaj “Mordecai” Gudelski was born June 20, 1837, in Suwalki, Congress Poland. He married Cywa ‘Sylvia’ Bachrach in 1855 in Suwalki when both were 19 years old. By 1875, they had several children born Suwalki: Yochevet, Kuna, Mowsza Lejba, Abraham, Berko, and Szepszel.
21. Cywa “Sylvia” Bachrach was born in 1835, probably in Suwalki, and was having children with 20. Mordecai Gudelski above in 1875.
22. Mortkhel Rabinowitz and 23. Khana Rachkovski. Mortkhel was born about 1828 and Khana about 1828-1833. They married by 1864 when their first child was born. They lived in Veisiejai, Sejny, Suwalki, in 1864.
24. Michael Joseph Anderson was born on April 20, 1874, in Staten Island, Richmond, NY. He lived with his parents Michael Anderson and Theresa Kilkenny Anderson, and his younger sister Theresa, in 1876, his older sister Mary Ann having died the prior year.
28. Adam Grant West was born on May 2, 1866, in Liberty Center, Henry County, Ohio, the seventh child to parents John Thomas West and Patience Spiegle.
29. Charlotte Mae DuShannon had been orphaned and in 1876 was living in the Bridgeport (Connecticut) Protestant Orphan Asylum when Chester and Mary Peters assumed her guardianship.
40. Manel Nochim Gudelski was born ca. 1798-1807. He married 41. Rejza Hirszowna, born about 1807. They were living in Suwalki in 1873, and she died a widow in 1885.
43. Rochla was born about 1799-1800, and married Mowsza Bachrach. She died 8 April 1867 in Suwałki.
44. Rubin Rabinovich, born ca 1804 probably in or near Dusnica (Dusznycia), gm Dumble, near Sejny, Suwałki Governorate — a small rural settlement in what is now Podlaskie Voivodeship, Poland, near the Lithuanian border. He died on May 2, 1877, at age 73, in Dusnitse village, Krasnovo area, Sejny, Suwalki, so I have to assume he was in the area in 1865.
48. Michael Anderson had married 49. Theresa Kilkenny and had three children by 1876. They were living in Staten Island, Richmond County, New York.
50. Andrew Driskol was probably living with his wife 51. Malvina Hendel in Manhattan as recent immigrants, with their children, Edward, Edith (if still alive at that time), and Mary.
52. William Carey and his wife 53. Mary C. Keoghan were newly naturalized in Morris County, New Jersey, with then-children James, Mary, William, John, Andrew, and Catherine. William worked for the railroad.
54. James Hart was a boy with his parents John Hart and Johanna Dobbins in 1876, in Hibernia, Morris County, New Jersey. He had older siblings Timothy and Michael, and younger siblings at that time Mary, unknown, John, and Margaret.
55. Bridget Agnes Kearney was a young woman soon to marry, with her father Matthew Kearney, in Randolph, Morris County, NJ. Her mother Eliza Culligan may or may not have been alive during 1876.
56. John Thomas West Sr. and his wife 57. Patience Spiegle were living in Liberty Center, Henry County, Ohio, in 1876, with or recently split from his father John West. Their children in 1876 were Mary Ann, John Jr., Fannie, Adam, Eva, and Wilbur.
60. Henry Mackey was in Buffalo, Erie, New York in 1876 with his parents William Mackey and Ann Dolan, as well as siblings Edward, John, Margaret, and Mary Ann. He may well have been dating the woman he’d marry the following year.
61. Ellen McCourt was living with her father Patrick McCourt in the 1875 census, and presumably still in 1876, and with her widowed sister and two niblings.
62. Cornelius Britton was married to his first wife Frances Housman in 1876, and they were living in Brooklyn, New York and their first two sons Frank and Willard.
63. Alice Matilda Smith was separated from her first husband, living with her parents Jason Smith and Mary Denny in Staten Island, and her child Louis Seawood.
108. John Hart and his wife 109. Johanna Dobbins were living in Hibernia, Morris, NJ with their children Timothy, Michael, James, Mary, unknown, John, and Margaret. He was recently naturalized and worked as a miner.
110. Matthew Kearney was with one of his wives or between them, a miner in Randolph, Morris, NJ, and his children Thomas, Bridget, Martha, John, Ann, and Matthew.
112. John B. West was living in Liberty Center, Henry County, OH. He was widowed and had been living with son John and family but I believe had moved out due to differences between them by then. He died later that year, never having reconciled with that son.
120. William Mackey was living in Buffalo, Erie, New York, with his wife 121. Ann Dolan. Their children Edward and Henry were still at home in 1875.
122. Patrick McCourt was perhaps living with his widowed daughter Mary in 1876. He would soon go into an old age asylum and die soon after.
124. Cornelius Britton and his wife 125. Harriet Barker were living in Staten Island, their children having flown the nest, though they were only 46 and 42, he working as a carpenter.
126. Jason M. Smith and his wife 127. Mary Catherine Denny were also living in Staten Island.
218. Michael Dobbins and his wife 219. Mary Malone had settled in Shawnee, Wyandotte, Kansas, by 1876. Their immigration path had brought them from Ireland via New Jersey (where their daughter Johanna and another daughter Margaret remained).
250. Stephen Barker and his wife 251. Mary Miller were living in Manhattan, either on Rivington or Hudson streets.
Those are all of my children’s ancestors known or believed to be alive in May 1876. Some locations are documented, some are carefully inferred, and a few remain frustratingly uncertain. But taken together, they offer a remarkable snapshot: families rooted in old communities, immigrants beginning again, children growing up in households that would soon change, and ancestors whose paths were slowly converging toward the people we would eventually know as family.
A hand turns the worn pages of an 1876 calendar showing May and June months.
ChatGPT, 19May2026
AI Disclosure
This post was written by me with the help of AI tools for organization and editing. The memories, family details, and reflections are my own.
I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.
Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: May 9, 2026
Prompt: “What automobile models did your ancestors have? Pick an ancestor and share something about their cars.”
Introduction
My father Bob Anderson’s first car after the divorce needed to be a cheap workhorse, so he could travel hundreds of miles every other weekend for custodial time (then called visitation), and he had little cash to spare. He found a yellow/orange two-door Vega. It looked very much like this one except orange with a black horizontal stripe.
Figure 1 A Chevrolet Vega similar to Dad’s, though his was more orange and had a black horizontal stripe.
Discussion
There were three of us, ages 3-8, and we sat in the backseat (no child seat laws at that time) because the front seat had no seat belts, but the back seat did. Dad used a CB radio much like I use Waze now but for two-way communication. With Citizens Band, everyone chose a nickname or handle, and Dad was Bumblebee, because of the car. (Later he got a silver car and was happy to change his handle to Silver Shadow.)
Those car trips went on for a decade. I’m amazed Dad was able to do it. Later, Dad was so burned out from driving, and I generally handled the long-ish trips. But I have very fond memories in that car and the ones that followed (anybody remember the K-cars?) because they enabled family time.
A “Weekend Fathers” newspaper article featuring Dad and one of the cars that followed the Vega. Seeing Dad described that way in print still stops me, because those exhausting weekends were not abstract to us. They were how he stayed present.
Looking back, those cars were never just transportation. They were how Dad kept showing up, one long weekend drive at a time. 10-4, Bumblebee.
AI Disclosure
This post was written by me with the help of AI tools for organization and editing. The memories, family details, and reflections are my own.
I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.
Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: May 2, 2026
Prompt: “What did your ancestral families do during the Great Depression (1930-1940)? Did they keep their jobs and standard of living? Did they suffer personally or economically?”
Introduction
My grandmother told me that her father, Henry Makey, had gotten a pay cut during the Depression and they moved to a cheaper apartment. What can I learn around that?
Discussion
In the 1930 census [Ancestry link], as the Great Depression was just getting going (the stock market had crashed on October 28, 1929), Henry Makey (or someone) informed the census taker that they were paying $73 rent for their family of five. He worked as a steamroller engineer on NYC asphalt (Grandma said he paved the streets). The family owned a radio.
Two of the children moved out in the 1930s. From the way Grandma talked, it sounds like she married out (1935) after they moved to the smaller place, but I would love to go to a library for city or telephone directories to verify.
In the 1940 census [Ancestry link], Henry Makey rented at a different place in Queens, for $48 rent, for his family of three. He was still in the same occupation and had earned $3,120 for 52 weeks of work in 1939. That works out to about $60 a week. They reported that he was in the “same place” in 1935.
Grandma’s memory holds up well. The records do not directly show Henry’s pay cut, but they do show the Makey family moving from a $73 apartment in 1930 to a $48 apartment by 1940, while Henry continued in the same line of work and worked a full 52 weeks in 1939. That suggests the Depression did not push him out of work, but it may still have changed what the family could comfortably afford. Moving to a cheaper apartment was exactly the kind of practical adjustment a family might make when income became uncertain or reduced.
ChatGPT, 03May2026
AI Disclosure
This post was created by me with the help of AI tools. While AI helps organize research, the storytelling and discoveries are my own.
I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.
Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: April 25, 2026
Prompt: “Who Is Ancestor #50 in your Ahnentafel list? What were his birth date and place, his parents, death date and place, spouse’s name, marriage date and place, and how many children they had, and which of his children do you descend from?”
Introduction
I’ve been working since 2021 on an ancestry book based on my children’s ahnentafel. So those are the only ancestor numbers I talk about! That particular number is assigned to Andrew Driskol, on my side. My children descend from Andrew through his daughter Anna Driskol, who married Michael Joseph Anderson in 1906.
Discussion
Andrew would be my children’s 3x great grandfather. What an interesting choice! Andrew is such a mystery to me. Despite the fact that he lived well into the late 19th century, I have not yet found direct evidence of his existence. Everything I have is something that was reported by/around his children regarding their father.
I believe Andrew was born ca. 1835-1840. He apparently moved to England and married Malvina Hendell probably between 1860 and 1864. Based on children, he probably emigrated to the US about 1868-1869, followed by his wife and eldest children (ages 11 and 9) in 1875. (Malvina’s immigration is the first paper trail I have on any of them.)
They had children in New York City, then Staten Island, Richmond County, New York, until 1883.
I believe he died about 1890, since his eldest son purchased property then, suggesting assumption of family financial responsibility. By the 1900 census, Malvina was a widow and eldest son Edward was the head of household. Malvina died soon after.
Genealogical Summary
Andrew Driskol was born ca. 1835-1840 in Prussia. He married Malvina Hendell probably between 1860 and 1865, possibly in England. Andrew immigrated to the United States about 1868-1869, followed by his wife and eldest children about 1875. He died between 1883 and probably 1890. Documentation for Andrew’s life derives primarily from his children’s vital records, as direct records for him have not been located in standard repositories.
Children of Andrew Driskol and Malvina Hendell:
i. Edward A DRISKOL was born in Feb 1865 in Germany. He arrived on the Holland in 1875. He lived on Van Pelt Ave in Staten Island between 1890 and 1900. In 1900 Edward was an Electrician. He moved to Queens between 1928/9 and 1938. He died after 1938. Note: I don’t believe Edward ever married – in one rather late land record, he was referred to as “single man.”
ii. (perhaps) Edith DRISKOL was born about 1866 probably in England. Note: I believe she died young.
2 iii. Mary Malvina DRISKOL, born Mar 1873, New York City ; married Eugene HEMSTREET, 14 May 1891, Northfield, Staten Island; married Francis J VAN DUSKY, 14 Apr 1926, Manhattan; died 9 Mar 1938, Staten Island. Note: Interestingly, after Josephine died, and her sister Mary was widowed, Mary married Josephine’s widower. They had no children, but Mary did by her first husband: Grace, Edward, and Lillian.
3 iv. Josephine R DRISKOL, born 1878, Staten Island; married Francis J VAN DUSKY, 27 Dec 1899, Staten Island; died 4 Apr 1925, Staten Island. They also had three children: Edward, Mildred, and Dorothy.
4 v. Anna DRISKOL (my ancestor), born 10 Jul 1880, Staten Island; married Michael Joseph ANDERSON, 16 Aug 1906, Staten Island; died 19 May 1922, Staten Island. They had four children: Theresa, Mary, Frances, and Edward, my grandfather.
vi. Joseph DRISKOL was born on 5 Jan 1883 in New York City. Joseph died on 27 Nov 1925 at the age of 42 in Staten Island. He never married.
Challenge
Andrew has always been a challenge to me. Every so often, I resolve to try again on him, and one day I will break through!
I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.
Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: April 18, 2026
Prompt: “Have you found an unexpected record recently (or at any time) in your genealogy and family history research? A document, a book, an article, a letter, etc. This week, please tell us about that unexpected record find and how it helped your research.”
Introduction
My most unexpected record was a letter written by my ancestor 343 years ago!
Discussion
How often has “dumb luck” aided our research? Probably more often than we would like to admit. This was one of those moments.
I submitted a genealogical query and received a response that broke a brick wall wide open. Suddenly, three new generations appeared. When I searched for the oldest of them, I struck gold.
Louis Thibou and his family were French Huguenots who fled France as religious tensions escalated. They went first to London, then sailed to Carolina, where they settled near Charleston in 1680.
Three years later, Louis wrote a letter to his friend Gabriel Boutefoy in London, encouraging him and his friends to come as well. Somehow, that letter has survived. I was blessed to hold it in my own hands at the South Caroliniana Library.
The letter reads almost like a promotional piece for Carolina, but it also contains priceless family detail: “God has given us a son who is called Jacob after the one we lost in England; the captain of a warship was his godfather. Gabriel is well and kisses the hands of his godfather and godmother.” Young Gabriel was my ancestor. I can’t begin to express the awe I felt holding that letter in my hands. Louis thought he was reaching across an ocean but he was also reaching across centuries.
That is what astonishes me most: after all the careful, methodical work that went into finding this line, I was suddenly able to hear my ancestor’s voice across more than three centuries. Research takes discipline, yes, but sometimes it also feels like grace.
Figure 1: Me with the letter written (in French) by my 9th great grandfather.
I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.
Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: April 11, 2026
Prompt: “Do you have an ancestor with no defined birth and death dates or places? This week, please tell us about that ancestor and what clues you used to estimate a birth and death dates and places.”
Introduction
I hope you don’t mind if I interpret this week’s prompt a little loosely and apply it to a marriage date rather than a birth or death date.
While tracking my ancestor Jason Smith, it became clear that he had two wives. I first suspected that because a relative posted a tree online saying she was descended from his first wife. That left me trying to figure out when Jason married my ancestor Mary Denny, who then became the elusive Mary Smith. Sigh.
My Response to the Prompt
Because the children were born in the 1830s and 1840s, there was not much documentation in their records to clearly identify their mothers.
So I started with the children and looked for patterns in the sequence, especially any gap that might suggest a death and remarriage. Here is the lineup I was working from:
Adelia Smith, b. ? William Mulford Smith, b. 14 May 1835 Deborah Ann Smith, b. 31 Dec 1837 Jason A. Smith, b. 20 Mar 1839 Mary Catharine Smith, b. 30 Oct 1841 George Henry Smith, b. 1 Oct 1843 Charles Edward Smith, b. 12 Jul 1845 Oscar F. Smith, b. ca. 1846 Alice Matilda Smith, b. 16 Feb 1850 Sarah H. Smith, b. Jan 1852 Lewis N. Smith, b. Aug 1859
Looking at that list, I suspected the wife change happened somewhere in the middle, but I did not think it was as late as Alice’s birth in 1850.
Then, finally, a newspaper notice turned up online.
I found an item in the Baptist Advocate dated November 14, 1840, and that gave me a much firmer point on the timeline.
That newspaper notice, announcing the November 4, 1840 marriage of Mr. Jason M. Smith and Miss Mary Denny, helped clarify when Jason’s household changed. So, my working theory based on the children’s birth dates turned into something much stronger once I had contemporary evidence to support it.
This guy did not waste any time finding a mama for his littles.
It was a good reminder that when exact dates are missing, we often build a timeline first from the children, the census, and whatever indirect clues we can gather, and then wait for one good record to bring the picture into focus.
How do you estimate unknown dates?
AI Disclosure
This post was created by me with the help of AI tools. While AI helps organize research, the storytelling and discoveries are my own.
I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.
Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: April 4, 2026
Prompt: “Family stories are often about “Turning Points” and “Major Decisions.” This week, please describe a “Turning Point” in the life of one of your parents (or for both of them, or for grandparents). Describe the decision, and discuss the outcome of it.”
Introduction
My grandfather’s decision to move to New York City during the Great Depression is one of the most courageous choices I’ve seen in my family history. If he hadn’t made that leap, my grandparents might never have met.
Discussion
Gordon West was born and raised in Liberty Center, Henry County, Ohio, a very small town. He was a talented musician and played the organ in a movie theater until the arrival of “talkies” put him out of work.
During the Depression, Grandpa went to work for a friend who ran a printing press – he worked without pay to learn the trade. After trying unsuccessfully to find work in Detroit, about 100 miles away, he made an even bolder choice: he went to New York City. As far as I know, he had no friends or contacts there, yet he found work as a linotype operator at the Staten Island Advance. For housing, he rented a room at a woman’s boarding house, and she thought he might be a nice young man for her niece’s stepdaughter – my Grandma.
They married in 1935 and he worked for the Staten Island Advance until he retired in 1972 after 41 years’ service.
The Great Depression was a terrible thing, but it did bring my grandparents together.
Staten Island (N. Y.) Advance, August 23, 1972, page 25
Challenge
Small changes can make a big difference. What butterfly effect have you seen or experienced?
AI Disclosure
This post was created by me with the help of AI tools. While AI helps organize research, the storytelling and discoveries are my own.
I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.
Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: March 28, 2026
Prompt: “Write a story using the phrase “ancestor I really admire” in 200 words.”
Discussion
There are many ancestors I admire, but one stands out: Theresa Kilkenny Anderson (abt 1851–1911).
Theresa’s life reads like a series of losses. Born in Ireland during The Great Hunger, she disappears from her early family and reappears as a young newlywed in New York City. She and her husband, Michael, lost their first child, and though more children followed, hardship did not leave her. She was widowed while pregnant – and then lost that child as well.
And yet, she kept going.
Years later, I find her in the census, working as a laundress, supporting the three children still at home. What I love most is that she was living in the same house as her married daughter. Despite everything, she kept her family close. She was part of her grandchildren’s lives – children old enough to remember her.
When she died, two of her sons paid for her burial.
Theresa could have folded under the weight of her losses. Instead, she built a life defined not by what she lost, but by the family she held together.
She is an ancestor I really admire.
For more information, I wrote more about here in this blog post.
AI Disclosure
This post was created by me with the help of AI tools. While AI helps organize research, the storytelling and discoveries are my own.
I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.
Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: March 21, 2026
Prompt: “March 21 is National Memory Day. How can we celebrate, and participate, in the day? I asked AI tool ChatGPT how, and it suggested “Capture a Memory Before Its Gone;” “Rescue and Identify Old Photos;” “Record a Oral History;” “Organize One Small Thing;” “Share a Story With Family;” “Visit or Virtually Honor Ancestors.””
Introduction
This week’s Saturday Night Genealogy Fun challenge, from Randy Seaver, marks March 21 as National Memory Day and invites us to consider how we might celebrate and participate. The suggestion was to come up with our own ideas, and as I thought about it, I realized I’ve already been doing this in different ways, even if I didn’t call it that at the time. You probably have as well.
Discussion
One of the most tangible examples sits right in my home: a shadowbox holding my great-grandmother, Alice Britton Makey’s, initialed fork. (Blog about it here.) It’s a small, everyday object, but preserving it, and the story behind it, felt important. It gave her a physical presence, something I could see and point to. But as meaningful as it is, I also know I can’t fill my house with shadowboxes. Not every memory can live that way.
Some memories are better experienced than displayed.
I was reminded of that by a relative (Helen Denny Woodman, author of TheDescendants of Henry Denny, 1758-1839, also my ancestor) who, while caring for her husband as his memory declined, would sit with him and go through old family photo albums. Those albums weren’t just records – they were invitations. They allowed him to reconnect, to recognize, to feel something familiar even as other memories slipped away. That idea has stayed with me, and it’s inspired me to create albums of our own family trips – not just to document where we’ve been, but to make it easier to revisit those moments together.
And then there are the memories you can hear.
When I had an old cassette converted (blog here), I discovered a recording of my father reading a poem he had written. Hearing his voice again was something no object could replicate. It wasn’t just preservation; it was presence. For a few minutes, he wasn’t just someone I remembered. He was there.
Thinking about National Memory Day in this way, I’m struck by how many forms memory can take. Some are physical, like a fork in a shadowbox. Others are shared, like turning the pages of an album. Still others are almost intangible, like a voice carried forward through time.
Not every memory fits in a shadowbox – but that may be the point. Memory isn’t meant to live in just one form. It lives in the ways we choose to hold on, to revisit, and to share.
AI Disclosure
This post was developed with the assistance of AI tools to help organize ideas and refine wording, while preserving my original reflections and voice.
The Ancestor Whisperer 