I started this year with big and concrete genealogy plans. I went in so smart, with a limited and specific list of people to research. Just four things on it, and a chief goal to have my Detroit series wrapped up by Labor Day. Boy, hasn’t that one gone wanting?
They’ve all gone wanting because this year has been the opposite of me making the dead wait. In 2023, the dead are a long line of impatient customers at the window.
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I did it to myself, with a casual post on Facebook early this spring. Given my multiple genealogy subscriptions, I told my friends: “If there’s someone or something you want me to look up, just ask.” The last time I offered this, I had no takers. This time there were four. And as soon as I’ve finished someone’s family research, another one has arrived.
This last time, not two hours after I finished showing someone their family tree, I got a text: Could I help a friend answer some family questions? The customers just keep coming.
But I’m not complaining. I’ve given a little and gotten so much more back. My friends have placed enormous trust in me, and in return I’ve gotten to know them on a whole new level. I’ve learned the happiest and saddest stories they carry. I helped them find new parts of their own histories. It’s been beautiful.
So far this year I’ve done everything from digging up documents, to building trees, to finding the living. My friends have taken me all over the country in their searches, and even out of the country—Canada, Poland, the Caribbean.
The most intense of these requests—and absolutely the most nerve-wracking—came from a friend who hoped to find her biological parents. She had gotten some distant DNA results, but was unsure about how to move forward. Over seven weeks I built a tree of about 500 people, from 19th-century Iowa to 21st-century South Carolina.
I squeezed in a lot of early-morning searches before going to work.
And… I did it.
I identified her birth parents (both living), and all four biological grandparents (also still living). The response from my friend has been heartfelt and positive. For all my worries, it was a deeply rewarding experience, the kind that makes me tear up before I can even catch myself.
I’m tearing up again. What a privilege to help her, and all of them.
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After the 7th search project wrapped up, I told myself: This summer I’m putting on the brakes. I’m going to focus on home and my own people.
I had a list and everything.
And then in mid-June, I got a text and a podcast link from my husband: “Here’s a mystery for you. Who is this lady?”
My initial response might have been slightly grumpy. But I gave in and listened to the podcast anyway.
The podcast, from last year, is about a now-gone Chicago drag performer named “Miss Tillie.”
The podcast hosts, from the Gerber/Hart Library and Archives, had information about Tillie’s Chicago years, but no one had been able to figure out much of anything about her pre-Chicago life. The bulk of their information on her comes from a short documentary and some of Tillie’s own personal photo albums, which were donated to the Gerber/Hart Library and Archives.
So I stuck my hand in. And I’ve been working on it ever since.
It’s too early in the process for me to share much detail, but I can tell you that it’s already been a fascinating trip. Tillie lived a complicated life, one that sometimes eludes my standard record searches. But I’ve gotten to meet some lovely people, and I’m excited to help their research however I can.
So that’s where I’m at, where my brain is housed for now: bouncing between 1940s Ohio… and 1960s Florida/1970s Illinois.
Someone asked for help, see. ☗
Graveyard Snoop 