52 Ancestors 2026: More than a Name – Days in a Life

 

My New England families have always intrigued me, and I’ve been fortunate that many of their lives during colonial and early American times have been the subjects of extensive research. I could even tie this into last week’s prompt, “A Spot on the Map.” There are lots of spots on maps of northwestern Europe, especially the British Isles, and what became the United States that are significant in my nomadic family. But I’m choosing one spot that is important to my New England family—Jericho, Vermont—and one family name: Samuel Day, father and son.

The elder Samuel Day was born in 1748 in Gloucester, Massachusetts, and grew up in Massachusetts and Connecticut. He married Eunice Fay on June 16, 1772, and a month later, on July 15, Samuel Jr. was born. When war broke out in 1775, he joined the Patriot cause as a minuteman. Whether he served after that is a matter of conflicting records, but we know that by the end of the war he had become a Vermonter, living near the Massachusetts border in Whitingham, Vermont. Between 1800 and 1804, the family decided to move north to Jericho.

Being on the frontier, Jericho was a target of Indian raids, and one of the founding families, the Browns, suffered greatly, with family members being captured and ransomed. With peace, however, the farms were safe. By the time Samuel Day moved to Jericho, Vermont had become a state and settlements were expanding.

Meanwhile, Samuel Jr. was still in Connecticut, where he married his first cousin, Elizabeth Munger, in 1793 and remained there until after the 1800 federal census, when the family moved to Jericho. Samuel Jr. put down roots and got into the ashing business, making potash and lye from tree ashes, borrowing money to get started and expand his business.

Both Days then experienced hard times. Samuel Sr. became a widower when Eunice (Fay) Day died in 1808. In 1809, Samuel Jr.’s note came due, and when he could not make the payment, his property and goods were seized and sold. The young family may have stayed with Samuel Sr. for a while, but then Samuel Jr. was “warned out” of town.

As an aside, much of this information comes from the writings of Mary Richmond, who writes:

"Warning out of town" was a procedure used by local governments to rid their jurisdictions of undesirable people. What had Samuel done to warrant being labeled undesirable? The bad debt had been paid. There must have been more.

Did Samuel abuse Elizabeth? Was he often drunk? Did he owe debts to many people? Was he dishonest or a thief? Were his older boys a problem in the community? Did he have undesirable friends, maybe Indians, who aggravated his neighbors? Had he been practicing medicine and running afoul of local laws or other, more qualified doctors? There may be no way to ever know.

We do know more about the practice now. New Englanders in the early 1800s had inherited from their Puritan forebears the idea that communities had a responsibility to care for their members, but there were limits to their generosity when people became a financial risk. That appears to have been the situation with the Samuel Day Jr. family.

Samuel, Elizabeth, and their family ended up in Madison County, New York, where the Munger family had moved. Unfortunately, Elizabeth died in 1812 at the age of 38. As was common at the time, Samuel quickly remarried, this time to Hannah Robbins, who was ten years his junior. They had 11 children together and moved westward through New York State. Their daughter Hannah Robbins Day was born in Genesee County, New York, and the family eventually ended up in Huron County, Ohio, where Samuel Jr. became Dr. Samuel Day and practiced medicine.

Dr. Day died in 1839 at the age of 67. His second wife, Hannah, lived until 1845. Their daughter Hannah Robbins Day, of solid New England stock, married John Jay Fast, who was from solid German stock. They moved west and became the patriarch and matriarch of the Fast family of Barton County, Missouri.

And what about the family back in Jericho? Samuel Day lived to the ripe old age of 81, dying in 1829. Samuel Jr.’s brother Benjamin prospered in Jericho, and his son Hiram Benjamin married into the founding Brown family.

For better or worse, the Days made their marks from Vermont to Ohio, and eventually their descendants did the same in Missouri.

Picture:

Image generated by Google Gemini

52 Ancestors 2026: A Spot on a Map – The Ghosts of Verdella

 

As I’ve mentioned before, the various branches of my family settled in Barton County, Missouri, within a decade or so after the end of the Civil War. Union Army veterans mixed with Confederate sympathizers and families of bushwhackers. There may have been some hard feelings, but within a few decades, families were intermarrying. There are a lot of places in Barton County to choose from, but one that stands out is Verdella, which was in the center of Barton City Township.

At its height, Verdella was a collection of stores, a church, and a school, but it was also at the center of my family’s life in the late 1800s and early 1900s. This 1886 plat is a snapshot in time.

At the southeast corner (Section 22) of the crossroads was the farm and orchard of my 2nd-great-grandfather, B.C. (Ben) McWilliams. He had returned from the Civil War, and after his travels took him from the Appalachian Mountains of Pennsylvania to Iowa, he settled on a farm and tilled the rich soil of the Missouri prairie.

Going east and a little north, in Section 10, past the Mayfields, was the 160-acre farm of my great-grandfather, David Cassatt. Across the road, from Ben in Section 15, was the 40-acre Krimminger farm. Heading west and then north, in Section 7, at the very edge of the township, was the farm of my 2nd-great-grandfather, S.D. Reed. The Reed farm was divided in two by the Nevada and Minden Railroad. Heading south and then a bit west from Verdella were the farms of John Jay and (William) Marion Fast, my 3rd- and 2nd-great-grandfathers.

For me, this helps ground my family—and their farming neighbors—in a specific place. It is also interesting to see the various landowners and compare them with the list of people who opposed Ben’s request for a Civil War pension.

Forty-four years later, in 1930, there had been many changes. There was no longer a McWilliams farm in Section 22, but the Cassatts had expanded their holdings. According to family lore, David had accumulated enough money to buy additional land and eventually handed the farms off to his three sons, Orville, Virgil, and Bascom. We can see their lands in Sections 9, 10, and 11. Bascom continued the family broom-making industry.

The Reed farm had become Barton City, another collection of houses, stores, a church, and a school. The town changed its name to Hannon and, according to family lore, was named after S.D.’s wife, Hannah (Brown) Reed.

It appears that the Gilmartins had moved to the township and established themselves in Sections 22 and 27. The Fasts were able to acquire additional farmland in Sections 32 and 33 for the children of Marion Fast, including O.T. Fast. Another landmark in the region was Bryan School, in Section 26, just down the road from the Fast farm. My grandmother and her family lived on part of the farm, and my mother taught at the school in the 1930s before moving east to the city.

Just like most of rural America, the shops and businesses in these small towns have closed and the farms have been consolidated. The Nevada and Minden Railroad was absorbed by the Missouri Pacific Railroad, and then abandoned. But the history is still there to discover. Through maps, census records, and family stories, we can uncover the ghosts of the past and learn more about our families—and American history.

52 Ancestors 2026: Long-Lasting – Vox Populi

 

The American experiment has a foundation based on a government that expresses the voice of the people, or vox populi. We’ve never achieved perfection, but one of the positive changes in our nation, arising from the colonial period, has been the idea that government should represent the interests of the people, by the people (and for the people, to round out the phrase). This ideal distinguished the British colonies from the monarchies of Europe. In Great Britain, colonial government was expressed through the companies that bankrolled the colonies and the charters they were granted.

But my family had to have some troublemakers (maybe that’s a long-lasting trait as well). Many of my ancestors were Reformed Protestants who ran afoul of the Roman Catholic and Anglican churches and the crowned heads of France, Spain, and England. Their heretical ideas reflected the rise of the middle classes as feudalism waned and included a distrust of human nature such that they believed power should not reside solely in one figure of authority, such as a king or a pope. When the colonies opened up, they were among those who sought refuge away from the royal courts.

The Reformed Protestant churches moved away from hierarchy and toward greater representation. Pastors were still important, but churches themselves were governed by elders (elected representatives) or by congregational votes. These republican and democratic forms of church government provided a foundation for our current system.

But I think my ancestors took it a step further. As I’ve written before, Stephen Hopkins made his second journey to the New World on the Mayflower and was a signer of the Mayflower Compact, which distributed governing power among the adult males of the colony. Interestingly enough, it was the non-Puritan passengers who insisted that, since they had landed somewhere other than their intended destination, they were free to do what they wanted. Stephen Hopkins had witnessed the debacle that was Jamestown and may have been one of those advocates for self-governing. With the Puritans being their own rebellious selves—and highly educated—we do not need to wonder why New England became a hotbed of revolution in the 18th century.

But that is not all. I have found many ancestors who fought for the Patriot side during the American Revolution, and the more I dig, the more I find. Our Declaration of Independence, now 250 years old, represented the views of the elected Continental Congress. Through bumps, twists, and turns, and even changes in who has a voice, that ideal has endured. It was the inspiration for Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, delivered to dedicate the cemetery for those “gave their lives so that that nation might live.”.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Photo:

Great Room of the National Archives

52 Ancestors 2026: Multiples – Threes

 

The number 3 has all kinds of meanings. In folklore: “Third time’s the charm.” In Christianity: the Holy Trinity, Peter’s three denials, and the Resurrection on the third day. In public speaking: making three main points or using three examples. For this prompt, I thought I would use three examples of ancestors who married (sort of) three times. I’ve written about these three people before, but each example tells us something about the era and the circumstances of their lives.

The first is Susannah Shattuck, my Puritan ancestor who lived from around 1643 to 1717 and represents the second generation of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. I’ve written about her remarkable life before, including her three marriages to Joseph Morse, John Fay, and Thomas Brigham. She was twice widowed and found a way to raise her six Morse children, her four Fay children and three Fay stepchildren, and seven Brigham stepchildren. I haven’t found any contemporary descriptions or remembrances of her (men seem to get more attention), but the names of her children reflect her Puritan piety, while her widowhood and sheer number of children demonstrate her perseverance and family-raising skills. She seems to have been one thread of continuity in her community. It’s also notable that the Shattuck, Morse, Fay, and Brigham families were prominent New England families, and she had ties to all three, not to mention the other families her children married into, such as the Larkins, Joslins, Newtons, and Holbrooks.

My second example is not a direct ancestor but a cousin, Artimesia Curry, my Kentucky relative who lived from 1824 to 1914. Her first marriage was to John Gabhart, with whom she had four children. Artimesia was widowed and then married George W. Bennett, whom she divorced in 1871, just days before marrying Hiram Cunningham. We learn a great deal about the times from her story. The Commonwealth of Kentucky was entering a promising phase but was also embroiled in the Civil War as a divided and fiercely contested border state. Hiram was loyal to the Union and served in the U.S. Army. It was gratifying to see his loyalty to his country and his contribution to preserving the Union, but it was also remarkable that Hiram and Artimesia persisted in their efforts to obtain pensions (veteran’s and widow’s) for his service. Pension records are often the stuff genealogists’ dreams are made of. Thanks to Artimesia’s precise memory, I was able to learn about another branch of the Curry family into which Hiram had married. Her depositions, combined with the fact that she had one of the relatively rare 19th-century divorces, contribute to a picture of a strong and determined woman.

My grandfather, Stephen Anthony Reed, and his marriages break the pattern a bit. His second relationship, with a woman identified as his wife in the 1940 census, may not have been formalized with an actual marriage certificate. We do, however, have a marriage certificate for his last pairing. Grandpa Steve was born in 1892 in Missouri and married Ruby Fast in 1911. They were both young—19 and 17 years old, respectively. They had five children, although their eldest died young.

His second relationship was with Margaret Branstuder Stephenson, and this household, which included Margaret’s two daughters—one who had previously married at sixteen and another who apparently had special needs—appears in the 1940 census. By 1950, he was living with Verna Fultz Verbeck. Like Margaret, her husband was still living at the time of these census records, although he was living in a different household. Interestingly, Verna’s husband was reported as “widowed” in the 1950 census. Steve and Verna married in 1961, and he died in 1973. If nothing else, I learned about some very complicated relationships, perhaps brought on by difficult circumstances.

Massachusetts, Kentucky, and Missouri are three important states in my genealogy, and in this essay they represent three different regions in three different eras. Family trees are complicated, and a lot gets buried as family stories fade and records become sporadic. It’s easy to talk about the “good old days,” but success was never guaranteed. Life required hard work, perseverance, and sometimes being in the right place at the right time. But if we dig deeply enough, we can sometimes piece together a broad picture and catch a glimpse of the past from the information that survives.

Picture:

Created by the author using Google Gemini (2026)

52 Ancestors 2026: Neighbors and Community – John Reed’s Tangled Web of Litigants

 

Genealogists can get a lot of important information and context by examining the Friends, Associates, and Neighbors—the FAN Club. In my John Reed Notebook project, however, it seems that John’s FANs were mostly linked to him through litigation, which is a very different kind of social interaction. Although these court cases do not present him in a particularly flattering light, they reveal a great deal about his family ties and, perhaps, his character.

For starters, we have John’s family. From the will of his father-in-law, Alexander Harrison of Fairfield County, Ohio, we learn that at the time of his death in 1829, John owed Alexander money that was to go to his mother-in-law, Susannah. We can also learn more about Alexander and his brother George Harrison (not the Beatle) and George’s move to Ohio in 1804.

We pick up the trail in Morgan County with William Reed, who was a neighbor rather than a close relative. When William died in 1852, leaving a wife, Julia Ann, and seven young children, John became administrator of the estate in 1853. He then managed to sell William’s land below market value to Daniel Sims, a neighbor who was, at the time, also a son-in-law, having married John’s daughter Sarah Ann. Sims did not own the property for long. He sold it to Reas Barkhurst for a tidy profit and then went west to Missouri. This part of the neighborhood was friendly to John: Sims got a nice starter farm and a profitable deal, while Barkhurst was able to cash in on land whose value increased during and after the Civil War.

Of course, William Reed’s heirs, once they came of age, were not such fans of John and eventually took him to court. After a series of lawsuits, they finally received compensation for the undervaluation of their land. These lawsuits provide us with more information about William’s children and their spouses.

But John’s duties as administrator had further repercussions. His neighbors had served as sureties on his bond, guaranteeing that he would properly administer the estate. As his dealings began to look increasingly questionable, the sureties went to court to avoid being held liable for John’s actions. Two of those sureties were brothers Samuel and Joseph Miller. But the Millers were also family. In 1850, John’s son John Linley Reed married their sister Elisabeth Miller, and another son, Lindley D. Reed, married her sister Eliza Jane Miller.

The Millers were about to become even more entangled with the Reeds. After John was widowed in 1857, he married the also-widowed matriarch of the Miller family, Elizabeth Dolman Miller, in 1860. The couple lived together for eleven years, but Elizabeth’s death led to another set of lawsuits. Her Miller heirs believed that John had improperly retained funds that Elizabeth had brought into the marriage and sought to recover them from his estate.

But this wasn’t the end of the lawsuits. Just a few months after Elizabeth died, John, himself infirm, moved into the household of Clement Fuller, who had married John’s daughter Evaline. John died in 1872, after spending only about six months with the Fullers. Apparently, he had given them a promissory note to pay for his care during his final months, and the Fullers joined the growing list of plaintiffs by suing his estate.

There were also people in the Morgan and Muskingum County communities who were not related to John Reed but whose names appear here and there in the records. According to the 1860 census, widow Julia Ann Reed ended up living next door to John in Muskingum County. Whatever she received from the sale of William’s land, she was able to maintain a farm valued at $1,200, with another $250 in personal property. Her oldest son, 17 years old, helped on the farm.

Living with John were his daughter Mary Jane Reed Bay and her husband, Thomas Gordon Bay. Interestingly, one of the witnesses to a deed involving John Reed was James Bay, who was a cousin of Gordon Bay. Also in John’s household was John Lyder, a 70-year-old fellow Virginian. Were they friends from back east?

The task of managing John’s estate eventually fell to Edward Bethel, whose relationship to John is unknown. He took on the herculean task of defending the Reed estate against all comers. One clue to a possible relationship with the Reeds is the fact that a Bethel family lived next door to Clement and Evaline Fuller. Checking the census for more Bethels, we find Russell Bethel, Edward’s brother, married to Elizabeth Bay, who was a distant cousin of Gordon Bay.

When studying communities and neighbors in an area that had only recently been settled, it is hard not to uncover family ties among the people living there, with very few degrees of separation. With all these relationships, John Reed’s messy life left behind a messy estate. Edward Bethel defended the property the Reed children were to inherit against the heirs of William Reed (neighbors), the heirs of Elizabeth Dolman Miller Reed (in-laws and stepchildren), and John’s own son-in-law and daughter, with the various principals testifying against one another.

From this genealogical exercise, we learn about all the entanglements and disputes that could not be settled at family gatherings but instead had to be settled in the courthouses of Morgan and Muskingum Counties. And, at least, these legal proceedings were better than settling affairs in the style of the mythical Wild West.

Photo: 

Pepe Silvia meme https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/pepe-silvia

52 Ancestors 2026: A Day in the Life – A Shaker Day

 

A lot of oft-repeated truisms start with “There are two types of people in the world,” and go on to say something about morning people and night owls, dog people and cat people, or those who see people as falling into two types and those who see gradations. One of the traits sometimes described in terms of dualisms is the difference between people who are organized and follow routines and those who are carefree and spontaneous. As an inveterate list maker and daily planner, I can see some truth in that distinction. And how often is the “two types of people” statement followed by, “And they always seem to marry each other”?

We could go much deeper into discussions of opposites attracting, but this entry is more of an exploration of a very orderly religious sect that is part of my family history: the Shakers (or the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing). My paternal ancestors, the Bantas, were part of the mixed Dutch/Huguenot Conewago Colony that migrated to Kentucky in the early 1780s. Three Banta brothers (my first cousins six times removed) were among the founders of the Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill, Kentucky.

Each day in the Village was marked by the hour. At 5 AM, a clock would strike and the villagers would wake up. Those assigned to tend the farm animals would take care of feeding them and, for the cows, milking them. Next came breakfast, followed by another strike of the clock signaling the start of farming, industry, and other chores. The farmers tended the crops and animals in the morning. The industrial work included making furniture and clothing, much of it for the village but also for sale to the outside world. At the striking of the noon bell, the villagers would meet for dinner, after which they began their afternoon work.

The day ended with supper, followed by prayer and meditation and lights out at 9 PM. Of course, the Sabbath was reserved for worship, along with the necessary farm activities. The Shakers also held special events featuring their signature singing and fervent dancing. Simple times and an eschatological worldview did not mean an absence of joy.

Throughout the day, the Shakers would assemble for prayer, anticipating and hoping for the Second Coming, which they believed was imminent. They wanted to be like the five wise bridesmaids in Matthew’s Gospel and live their daily lives in preparation.

For many in the early years of our nation, the wild days were times of opportunity, but some wanted a life of stability and an escape from the outside world. For them, the Shaker villages provided a sanctuary and an opportunity for women to be full members of the community, although the division of labor was usually based on sex. The Shakers were part of the religious revivals that characterized the early days of the Republic, but their enforced celibacy and the fact that the Second Coming still hasn’t happened meant that the colonies could not last. Their music and craftsmanship, however, have endured.

We may not understand their theology, but many of us who are list makers and planners might envy their routines. To a point.

Photo: From https://blog.shakervillageky.org/today-in-pleasant-hill-history/

52 Ancestors 2026: Free Space – Digging Deeper with NotebookLM

 

I’ve written before about my Reed-Harrison brick wall (and my shady maternal 5th-great-grandfather) and how I’m using AI to help find my way around it. While I’ve learned a great deal—though no major breakthrough yet—I wanted to describe how I’ve been using Gemini’s NotebookLM (now simply Notebook) as part of that research.

If you already use Google services, getting started with Notebook is straightforward. The interface consists of three panes: Sources, Chat, and Studio. Sources contain your input—documents, spreadsheets, and other files. Chat is where you enter prompts and receive responses. Studio serves as something of a repository and a playground, providing different ways to organize and present your findings.

So how did I use this new tool? First, I consulted Gemini in a separate chat, and it walked me through the setup, beginning with the creation of my source documents. Spending time planning and organizing at the outset can make a research project much more manageable. One early decision was to keep all my documents and spreadsheets in a folder on Google Drive and to use Google's own applications—Docs and Sheets. That allowed me to edit or add information online and then synchronize those files with the versions uploaded into Notebook's Sources environment. In the end, I had a collection of Google Docs and Sheets, each beginning with a two-digit number for easy sorting, along with several three-generation pedigree reports that I had downloaded and converted to text.

Since my focus was John Reed, some of the files were named 00_John_Reed_Narrative, 01_John_Reed_Timeline, 04_Muskingum_County_Records, and 11_John_Reed_Censuses. The narrative established my research objectives and held miscellaneous information that didn't fit elsewhere. The timeline followed the format suggested in Amy Johnson Crow's 31 Days to Better Genealogy. The census file contained tabulated information from each census, including the head of household, every family member's name, and the values of real and personal property.

The records files proved to be the most valuable—and the place where Notebook really demonstrated its strengths. Here I entered transcripts that I had obtained through FamilySearch's Full-Text Search. To keep everything organized, I maintained a separate research log in Google Sheets that recorded search terms, locations, years searched, source information, descriptions, and a Case ID (001, 002, and so on). Each transcript in my records document began with a header containing the Case ID, source, and image numbers before I pasted in the transcript itself.

Once I had accumulated enough information in each file, I uploaded it to the Sources pane. Each upload takes a few moments while Notebook analyzes the new material. Then it was finally time to enter my first prompt into the Chat pane. Unlike a standard chatbot, which may draw on its training data, search the internet, or occasionally make confident but unsupported assertions, Notebook restricts itself to the sources you have provided.

What did it return? In my case, it identified family relationships and inheritances, untangled who was suing whom, traced land transactions, and explained the legal terminology found in nineteenth-century court records. It also disentangled complicated family relationships and highlighted inconsistencies among the various records, especially in pedigree files I had downloaded from FamilySearch.

It summarized what I had learned about my ancestor John Reed:

Through the analysis of court transcripts, probate records, and census data, a detailed portrait has emerged of John Reed (1793–1873), a man whose life in Muskingum and Morgan counties, Ohio, was defined by a complex web of family ties and relentless legal conflict.

It also identified the key documents supporting its conclusions. My John Reed project quickly became complicated, with connections that would once have required stacks of index cards, a box of pushpins, and yards of string to keep straight. Instead, Notebook organized the evidence, identified relationships, and documented the reasoning behind its conclusions.

[T]rying to track these "neighborly" interactions manually across 100+ images of transcripts and three different census years would be a "nightmare."

With NotebookLM, you were able to:

• Distinguish between separate lineages: It quickly separated the "Delaware Reeds" (William’s family) from your "Virginia Reeds," proving that the litigation wasn't a brotherly spat, but a neighborly exploitation.
• Track Economic Evolution: The tool allowed you to see John Reed’s real estate value jump from $3,000 in 1850 to $25,000 in 1870, providing the "motive" for why his neighbors and heirs were so litigious.
• Map the Migration: By cross-referencing witnesses like James Bay and boarders like John Lyder (both from Virginia), you used the "neighbor" data to reinforce the Loudoun County/Harrison connection—the very "brick wall" you started with.

One feature I particularly appreciate is that the analysis evolves as the project grows. As I discover new records, I simply add them to the appropriate Google Docs file and synchronize it with Notebook. When I found records relating to John's father-in-law in an adjacent county, I created another document, added it to the Sources pane, and let Notebook incorporate the new evidence into its ongoing analysis.

And what about the Studio pane? Each chat response can be pinned as a note, but Studio offers much more. Notebook can generate videos, slide presentations, data tables (which are especially useful for mapping FAN clubs), and reports. Other study tools, such as flashcards and quizzes, are also available, although those are probably of limited value for genealogical research.

So, while I can see only a little daylight through my brick wall, Notebook has allowed me to develop a much richer understanding of John Reed, his family, his neighbors, and the complicated world in which they lived. But I'm not done digging. Yet.