WARNING: Boring family history post.
Tracing my father’s paternal line has not been easy. My father was raised by his mother alone, and he had almost no contact with his father for most of his life. It’s a sad story. My grandfather had been married to a woman before he married my grandmother. He then divorced my grandmother and went back to his first wife. Since my father did not know his father, he did not know his grandfather either. He heard no stories of his ancestors.
After I was born, my mother tracked down my father’s father. She thought he should know that he had a grandchild–another grandchild as it turned out. I visited my grandfather a few times while I was a child. He was a nice man, and it turns out that my grandmother somehow kept him away during my father’s childhood. I don’t really understand it, as a father should be able to see his son–one way or another–if he wants to. I learned that my grandfather’s first name was Homer and that his father’s first name was also Homer. But that’s all I knew.
Other the years I tried to find out more, and finallyI was able to discover the name of my great-great-grandfather. His name was George, and he came from Ireland to Canada and then to the United States. His wife was originally German, and she changed her name from Maria to Mary. A third cousin of mine sent me a picture of their tombstone. I also found a baptismal certificate for their first son and many other documents related to them. However, I never found the names of George’s parents.
A different cousin, a fourth cousin, found a marriage record for George and his second wife, Rosilla. It lists George’s parents names, Richard and Esther. They must have been born in the 1820′s, and I have not been able to find out much more about them. At least I have their names.
To a genealogy enthusiast like me, this is big. It’s like a miner finding a big gold nugget or an astronomer discovering a new nebula.