I am of an age that I began my serious family history research at the cusp of the digital revoution of the mid 90s. That was the time when the internet was becoming more pevalent in our homes and every day lives, and also the digitisation of family records was in its relative infancy.
I remember the early days of Ancestry and FamilySearch (and it’s associated IGI – International Genealoigical Index – which was always viewed with suspicion by ‘real researchers’ as it was so driven by normal people and a lack of proofed sources. There were message boards and email groups, small, specialised websites dedicated to family names, specific record sets or localities. then there were the sites that served as aggregators of all these sites, like Cyndi’s List which is still around today.
Sadly this post is not about the marvel that is Justin Trudeau’s beard, but the latest in this year’s 52 Ancestors series. That’s not to say I couldn’t do a whole post dedicated to that beard. Because I could.
But looking at my family photos, one thing strikes me. Beards didn’t feature large in my family, with a few exceptions here and there …
As I’ve said a few times, I’ve taken the opportunity that this year has given me to go over old research and re-evaluate old assumptions that have perhaps niggled the back of my brain over the years but have been ignored due to being low risk. (And so speaks the Project Management Professional in me.)
All I’m saying to that is … oh boy. I might have made a bit of an error. I’ll set it out below and perhaps anyone could let me know their thoughts. I’d be grateful!
It’s been a long three months since I last contributed to 52 Ancestors and it feels that momentous changes have happened this summer. Slow and inevitable, like continental drift. But that isn’t the conversation for this post.
This is about bring proud. Having pride. In my family? My ancestors? Myself?
Cain and Abel. Romulus and Remus. Groucho and Zeppo. We all love a story about brothers (this isn’t one of them!). Although, presumably with fewer beatings. This post is about two such brothers people – Daniel and James Holborow – who both left England and made two very different lives for themselves in Australia.
Warning: long read ahead!
UPDATE: Further evidence (here) has come to light that Daniel and James were not brothers, nor particularly closely related. This is the way of research. You think you have it right, do your checks but … nope – sometimes shit still goes wrong! Whilst James was the son of William Wraxall Holborow and Jane Greenman, Daniel was the son of William Holborow and Jane Day.
This week’s 52 Ancestors post is, as you might have guessed, on the theme of multiple. As opposed to last week’s solo post. But multiple what…? Multiple children? Multiple births (although twins seem to be a pretty rare circumstance in my family)? Multiple marriages (definitely less rare!)?
This post has been a long time coming – yet it is one of my favourite things I’ve ever researched, and one that I am inordinately proud of (probably second only to finding my husband’s [adopted] aunt’s birth family … or tracking down my paternal grandfather’s family). Some of it might be a bit squirrelly but bear with me …
I don’t think that there is one solitary only child in my tree. Not anywhere. Even all the spinster aunts and bachelor uncles seem to be found in close proximity to their niblings in later years, and several of them make clear provision for them in their wills and testaments (yes, you may have several cauldrons of tallow, dear nephew …).
So I had to take a bit of a different tack with this week’s challenge and take a look at a line that’s just been hanging out for a while now. On it’s own. Kind of … solo.