You might recall the little family history pocket notebook I started carrying around last year to keep my notes, to-do lists, and general questions in. I started it as an experiment based on a memory of a pocket notebook my Uncle Kent pulled out when I visited that contained my great grandpa Dutch’s Oatmeal Cookie recipe. I figured that big ideas and important documentation doesn’t always need to be fancy or flashy and if I could easily carry it around, then I might be more apt to use and reference it on my family history as I made my way through 2024.
Guess what?
It worked.
I wrote down all my carryover questions and tasks, random tidbits I hadn’t yet found a conclusion for in my research…
I acknowledged specific ancestors I wanted to look deeper into…
I captured questions that floated to the surface while running errands or connections that came together (possibly/probably) while eating lunch that I couldn’t get to just then but definitely didn’t want to just float away.
I tracked the number of files I added to my personal archives throughout the year…
I asked myself questions about how mystery DNA matches might be related to me despite no one knowing anything or being willing to share what they might know…
I jotted down inconsistencies in oral history vs documentation.
Guess what else?
Despite all of the above, I still didn’t fill the tiny notebook by the end of 2024 and so will carry it forward into 2025 until it is full and calls for a new sibling.
Not only did I not fill it, despite using it weekly, I was reminded of a very important aspect of family history:
Research and documentation doesn’t care about the dates on a calendar. The questions and answers simply unfold themselves across space and time at their own pace.
So yes, it is my hope that, at the end of my life I will leave a sweet little stack of pocket notebooks that the next genealogist can look back through and that they’ll fully understand that none of our tasks or passions truly begin or end with a date on a calendar.
Onward,
Melis