My cousin Tim called yesterday to inform me about the loss of some valuable genealogical records we had both hoped to benefit from.
The records had once belonged to my uncle Pete, my maternal aunt's husband. He had been studying genealogy for decades, sending and receiving letters from sources in Germany, many of which were written in German and had to be translated. He ultimately filled a dozen binders with his genealogical research into both his family and my aunt's family (which is also my family and Tim's) and before he died, donated them to a library. A few years ago the library suffered a flood and the genealogical collection was moved to another location. In recent days, Tim found out from a distant cousin who tried to access the records that the entire collection was destroyed in the flood.
We both had such high hopes for that collection. Tim had seen some of it before Pete died, and hoped to return to the records to find the answers to some puzzles we've been unable to solve regarding the family. Now that is no longer possible.
I know there are many people who do not understand why this is such a big deal. Like any who pursue a hobby, sport, or intellectual pursuit and become addicted to it, we are much more invested in the process than those who have never become involved in it. I've had many relatives of my husband's, for instance, who let me know in no uncertain terms that genealogy doesn't interest them and they don't want to participate in a family history project and aren't interested in hearing about my finds. To them, life is for the living, not for a pursuit of "dead people."
I don't see it that way at all, even as I understand their lack of interest. When my father was alive and immersed in genealogy, I was too busy raising my family, seeing clients, and teaching classes to inquire about what he was doing. I really regret that now. There are so many questions I would love to ask him and my mother about their families. While I do have some of my dad's records from his research, I fear some of them were thrown out by my mother. She spent many days, in the year before her death, cleaing out his office and his desk and throwing out files she felt were unimportant. I feel fairly certain she threw out important genealogical data, but at the time I was too busy helping her stay alive and supervising my dad's care.
In our conversation, Tim brought up a distant cousin who used to visit my parents from time to time. She was a nun, Sister Agnes, and we spent every Christmas Eve with her for decades. Tim was sure she was a font of information, and I'm sure she was, except at the time, I never thought to ask her anything. Ultimately, she was transferred back to the motherhouse in Indiana, I believe, where she died.
So Tim and I will have to explore other avenues to find the information that Pete had uncovered, though it will take us a long time, even with the internet, which my uncle did not have access to. And we will both do it because, even though many do not understand, it is important to us to keep searching for our ancestors. For me, it is even more than that. My parents moved my brother and me out to California when I was ten. We left behind grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, most of whom have died. My few living cousins still reside in the Midwest, but I hear from them only sporadically. Ten years after we moved here, my brother died, and two and a half years ago, both of my parents died within the same week. So genealogy for me has become a way to reconstruct my family, to gain an extended family, and to once again feel part of several clans that were left behind many years ago.
