Keeping the Faith

(Image by Patrisia Novianti from Pixabay)
 

My computer and I have been inseparable of late. A week ago, I started to explore a couple of areas on my family tree; those branches where the quest had gone a little stale and then, as is always the case, found myself waylaid by some interesting facts. You know the kind of thing: an ancestor with a few more children than you had understood; the family of 14 crowded into a one bedroom hovel (my ancestry is far from aristocratic); the uncle several generations back who made provision in his will for his servant's illegitimate daughter, only for me to discover him named as her father on her marriage certificate. So often, as in that last instance, instinctive hunches are proved true but on other occasions they are well and truly dashed.

This evening I was in the process of wrapping up my notes for the day when I ended up spending another hour or so at the screen that I had not intended. Keeping my records organised and consistent is by far the most onerous task as I repetitively record all kinds of incidental detail and on this occasion I could not risk the information escaping my repository of knowledge.

For as long as I can remember I can recall a story within my family as to how my grandfather, who sadly died before I was even born, had been forced to forsake his education in London to return to the northern village he grew up in, when both his parents succumbed to the Spanish flu epidemic at the end of the first World War. At 17 he was the eldest son in a large family where the youngest had only just seen her 1st birthday and I guess his intention had been to follow other family members, including his deceased father, into the coal mines in order to keep his brothers and sisters together.

Fortunately, so the story goes, the Miners' Union stepped in and paid to support the family so enabling my grandfather to benefit from a scholarship for Durham University to conclude his teacher training there. Whilst there was never any doubt that my grandfather qualified as a teacher, eventually rising to become a local headmaster, the notion that he had gone off to study in London at the age of 17 always seemed a somewhat mythical Dick Whittington fancy to me; an exaggeration through time of the true facts perhaps.

I do wish I wasn't so cynical but at least my persistence has paid off and today I found the evidence I have been looking for: a register entry with the Teachers' Registration Council. It confirmed not only my grandfather's status as a qualified teacher  but also the colleges where he trained. To see Bede College in Durham was not a surprise, but there, just above it, was indeed confirmation of the accuracy of that family myth; he had begun his teacher training at St John's College, Battersea!

Oh me of little faith is now cock a hoop.


Comments

How fun! My dad's side of the family is traced back to the 300's, and it was always fun to hear my grandma tell stories about all our past relatives.
Caree Risover said…
Wow, if I could go back that far, instead of being stuck on the moors with stubborn farmers and dark secrets from the 17th Century, I’d be revelling in tribal battles and Roman Emperors.
Jean said…
The history of near ancestors is often more fascinating than fiction. Thinking of my father, who wrote his "memoirs" about ten years ago, he has lived through so many enormous changes in the way people live in his lifetime, starting when the only mode of transport available was by horse and cart or on "Shanks's pony".
He also discovered skeletons in various cupboards, siblings born out of wedlock and others being locked up in the local nick for knocking the village bobby's hat off!
Treaders said…
That's a fabulous story. I think ancestry is so interesting but I doubt I'd have the patience to get into it. I do know my now-deceased aunt got quite far and my nephew is giving it a shot so maybe I'll leave it to him!
Caree Risover said…
Yes Jean, I'm still on with the book (!) and, as for skeletons in cupboards, anyone with one needs to be concerned as to how much is actually available online these days that a quick search on one of the genealogy websites can locate.
As for relatives doing the leg work for me, Treaders, I don't know what it was about my ancestry but I'm yet to find anyone with any interest in it. You would think that going back three hundred years, I'd have come across a few "cousins" tracing the same people but they are as problematic to find as the ancestors themselves.
Jan said…
I love hearing peoples family history stories! I started tracing my family tree a few years ago and found some interesting stories. I am looking forward to having the time to really look further into it once I retire.
Hi Caree, Another interesting post. I'll share a little of my family history. I was born in British Columbia but learned that my ancestors hailed from England an Scotland. My grandmother (nee Gerhardi) was born in Russia. Her family lived in a town called Smolensk and owned a large mill that produced wooden spindles used in the wool industry. My grandmother told us stories of her life in Smolensk (and another property called Giglova). She had vivid memories of her family leaving everything and fleeing back to England during the rise of the Bolshevik's in Russia around 1917. They came to Canada and made a new start.
Caree Risover said…
My family tree has been a great outlet during lockdown, Jan, and as I discovered a line living on top of an isolated moor in the nearby Yorkshire Dales a great excuse, when restrictions allowed, for on the ground sleuth work away from the crowds.
However, any foreign ancestry of mine must be buried deep awaiting discovery, so no Trans-Atlantic or Russian historical visits on my agenda yet but how wonderful to hear stories of places handed down from grandparents to potentially be able to visit. Thanks for sharing that, B. Steele.
My wife is the genealogist of our family and has been researching both of our family trees. She has gotten me interested and I am now digging into info on my family. It would have been nice if all of our ancestors had left some type of written record of their lives so we would know all of the interesting stories. So far, I think we have info back to early 1800's or so. I wish we had gotten interested at a younger age so we would have had the benefits of talking to aunts, uncles and parents about what they knew first hand.
Caree Risover said…
Interestingly, my grandmother had a large family Bible in the front of which successive generations had recorded family details. I copied it out faithfully and later checked the information out against the Births Marriages and Death Register and censuses at the time, only to discover that so much was inaccurate and/or unknown to the scribe at the time. I agree though that to uncover a journal would be wonderful but in an age when paper was an expensive commodity or ancestors unable to write, I've given up hoping to come across one in a family attic.

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