52 Ancestors 2026: Another Break in the Wall

 

I recently made major discoveries about the family of my 2nd-great-grandfather, Robert M. Curry. It was the story of a family from Mercer County, Kentucky, making the all-too-familiar westward move to Monroe County, Missouri. Piecing that family together using both old and new research tools was a satisfying project, and I was ready to dust off my hands, call it a day, and mark the week’s work complete.

As it turns out, though, there may be even more surprises waiting for this researcher.

I recently visited the local public library to check records available through Ancestry Library Edition. While reviewing Robert’s siblings, I found a marriage record for Susan Curry and Hiram Cunningham in Monroe County, Missouri, dated 6 November 1853. Susan had appeared in the 1850 census but then seemed to vanish from the record.

While searching for additional Cunningham information, I found another Curry-Cunningham connection: Elizabeth Curry and Andy Cunningham, married 16 December 1841. Elizabeth? That was not a name I had previously encountered. Could she have been the young girl marked only by a tick mark in the 1830 census and then missing from later records?

Unfortunately, Elizabeth and Andrew appear not to have had a long marriage, as Andrew remarried in 1847 after Elizabeth presumably died. However, they did have a son: George Washington Cunningham.

As a researcher, I wondered whether there was enough evidence to place Elizabeth within the Curry family. I believe there is. George’s 1886 marriage record names his mother as Elizabeth Curry. In the 1900 census, George reported that his mother was born in Kentucky. Various Cunningham families also appear within the Curry FAN network (more on that another time). Most importantly, the 1841 marriage record names Samuel Curry as the father of the bride. The fact that Elizabeth does not appear in Samuel’s later estate records could simply mean that she had already died. Taken together, these clues make her inclusion in the family quite plausible.

I was fortunate to find many more records for Hiram and Susan Cunningham, though they introduced a possible misidentification. I located Hiram in FamilySearch, but his wife was listed as Susan Sanders, and the couple was living in Mercer County, Kentucky. Dead end? Perhaps not.

The marriage record attached in the sources was the Monroe County, Missouri, marriage of Hiram Cunningham and Susan Curry—not Susan Sanders. In addition, the sources included death certificates for four of their children. Three listed the mother’s maiden name as Curry, while only one gave the name Sanders. It is entirely possible that the informant for that one certificate simply provided incorrect information. Secondary records often contain such errors.

We now have records for Hiram Cunningham in two counties—Mercer County, Kentucky, and Monroe County, Missouri—that were already connected by migration and family ties. Are there additional records linking Kentucky’s Hiram to Missouri? Yes. Several Monroe County land transactions in the late 1850s name Hiram and his wife Susan. There are also no competing records for another Hiram Cunningham in Missouri during that period.

It seems very possible that Hiram moved west to an area where his cousins had settled, married a woman whose family was connected to both Kentucky and Missouri, and later returned to the Bluegrass State. Susan died before her husband, but the widower later remarried—Artimesia Curry Gabhart Bennett, a cousin of the Missouri Currys.

With so many ties between the Curry and Cunningham families, it is very tempting to identify this Susan as Robert Curry’s sister. But one more promising source remains.

Hiram J. Cunningham served in the 9th Kentucky Cavalry in the Union Army during the Civil War, and both invalid and widow pension files exist for Hiram and Artimesia.

It looks like another trip to Washington, D.C., may be in order.

One last thing: Why spend so much time digging for records about a couple of 3rd-great-aunts when there are so many other avenues to pursue? First, all of these clues can help create a more complete picture of the Curry family and the close ties they shared with neighbors who may have migrated alongside them. Second, we often encounter brick walls when researching maternal lines, and perhaps someone else will make a breakthrough by building on these records.

52 Ancestors 2026: A Quiet Life – Getting Away

 

As a city kid, I was always surrounded by noise—people talking (even when they were indoors and the windows were open), cars passing by, and sirens of every kind. That was not the case out on the farms, especially in the days before steam- and diesel-powered equipment. Out there, the sounds were more likely the lowing of cows or the crowing of roosters. I imagine that when my ancestors first made their way to the prairies of southwestern Missouri, they heard mostly the wind and the songs of birds.

I am hard-pressed to identify which of my ancestors truly lived a “quiet” life. There were daily farm chores, large families, and children constantly underfoot. Perhaps some of them stepped outside at the end of a long day and looked up at the stars, but they also viewed those wide-open prairies as land to be claimed and cultivated. Earlier pioneers saw the great eastern forests as sources of lumber and wilderness to be tamed, clearing trees so they could establish farms. Relations with Indigenous peoples, at times cooperative through trade, could also turn hostile, and dangers from wildlife such as bears and cougars were never far away.

For me, respite from the noise of daily life came from parks and campgrounds in landscapes long since settled. I have written before about camping, but there were other opportunities as well. As the City of Buffalo grew into an industrial powerhouse, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux were commissioned to design a park system. It included parkways linking the Niagara River to various parks, with the crown jewel being Delaware Park, complete with a lake, wooded paths, and open meadows. It was along those parkways that we played football, and where I spent time “in nature,” watching birds and learning to identify wild plants and trees.

Later trips to places as distant and remote as Algonquin Provincial Park offered moments of real solitude. More recently, parks and trails have been as close as my own backyard, where I would head into the woods on a brisk winter day, often with a young child strapped into a backpack.

I do not know how my ancestors felt about “getting away,” but my descendants have certainly continued the tradition.

52 Ancestors 2026: Unexpected – An Appreciation of Amy’s Prodding and Prompts

 

Genealogical research is full of twists and turns. Sometimes it’s a shady character, a surprising connection to deep history, or an unexpected migration. There have been plenty of such examples in this blog, but what surprised me most this year was how much my blogging and writing led to new discoveries.

I originally thought the weekly prompts from Amy Johnson Crow would be useful for quick summaries, while I spent most of my time breaking through brick walls and adding more and more names to my tree. Instead, the prompts pushed me to explore new territory and dig deeper into ancestors and families I thought I already understood. They also encouraged me to examine the broader context—the times and places in which my ancestors lived. Three areas I explored in particular were early settlements, migration patterns, and a deeper look at farming life in Barton County.

When it came to early settlements, I knew I had ancestors in New England and New Netherland, but writing these posts led me to dig further into the details. “New England” turned out to encompass a variety of Puritan families. I learned more about the Salem Witch Trials, naming conventions, and discovered that I descend from some of the earliest immigrants to Plymouth Colony (the Mayflower) and Massachusetts Bay (Winthrop’s fleet). I also explored my Huguenot line through family histories and narratives about the early days of New Amsterdam, as well as my early Quaker ancestors in Pennsylvania.

Of course, my ancestors were all immigrants, but their migrations didn’t stop at the coast. Early generations moved into the interior of the Thirteen Colonies, and later generations pushed even farther west. I had learned about routes like the Wilderness Road and the Oregon Trail in school, but they became far more meaningful when I realized that my own ancestors had traveled them. One unexpected discovery was the central role that Kentucky—first as a territory and later as a commonwealth—played in so many of my family lines. Perhaps that connection explains why I was drawn to the Bluegrass State for my education, even before I knew of my Kentucky roots.

With all these migrations, many of these once-distant family lines eventually converged in Barton County, Missouri. While I had long collected census data for these families, the depth of information found in those records—especially the agricultural schedules, along with land, probate, and death records—revealed far more than I had expected. These sources provided not just names and dates, but insight into daily life and the interconnected nature of these families.

In the end, it is hard to point to just one unexpected discovery—there were many. What surprised me most was how much progress I made simply by writing. The process kept me engaged, encouraged deeper research, and led me to explore topics in ways I might not have otherwise.

Not a bad year at all.

52 Ancestors 2026: A Brick Wall Revisited – A Curry-Spiced Breakthrough

 

I’ve written before about my 2nd-great-grandfather in my father’s side, Robert M. Curry. He married Elizabeth Ann Maddox but died near the end of the Civil War. It is still uncertain whether he was the same Robert Marion Curry who enlisted in the Union Army and was executed. As if this uncertainty wasn’t enough, for a long time, I kept hitting a brick wall when trying to find out who his parents and siblings were. Still, there were a few clues. A printed Maddox family history noted that Robert had a brother who married his wife’s sister, Sarah, and according to Find A Grave, his parents were James and Rebecca (Anderson) Curry.

Could this limited information point me in the right direction? Yes—and no. The proposed parentage was intriguing but led to another dead end. However, the Curry–Maddox connection opened a more promising path.

As usual, I began with what I could easily find: the census population schedules. Starting in 1870, I found Elizabeth, age 45, in Vernon County, Missouri, with her children but no husband. Moving backward, I located the Curry family in the 1860 census, where Robert M., Elizabeth, and six children, all of whom matched the household from 1870. Looking further back, things became even more interesting. 

In 1850, Robert and “Betsy” Curry were living in the crowded household of Jesse Maddox in Monroe County, Missouri. This suggested a pattern—and a plan. Were there other Curry households in Monroe County? Yes, but one stood out: a household headed by Susan Curry, with five others bearing the Curry surname. Could this be Robert’s mother and siblings? The population schedules also noted that the mother and Curry children were born in Kentucky.

To test this theory, I went further back. The 1830 and 1840 census records list only heads of household and household members sorted by age categories, but by examining the later census data, I created a spreadsheet to reconstruct the likely household composition.  

Picture: 1840 and 1830 Census predictions based on 1850 and 1860 Census records.

Two Curry households appeared in Monroe County. One, headed by R. H. Curry, did not match well with the known children and included slave ownership, which did not align with the later economic status of the family. The other, headed by Samuel Curry, was a much better fit, with children whose ages aligned closely with those found in later records.

Up to this point, the research had relied on traditional methods—census records and careful data organization in a spreadsheet. The next phase, however, involved using artificial intelligence tools. I shared my findings with my ChatGPT assistant, including full census data and the observation that a John Curry and a William Curry appeared in the same township as Robert in the 1860 census. John matched a "John Curry" from the 1850 Susan Curry household, suggesting a possible match. My assistant recommended checking military records for Robert Curry, but that avenue proved unproductive. However, the marriage record of Robert and Elizabeth and Elizabeth’s death certificate were consistent with the working hypothesis.

The real breakthrough came with the FamilySearch Full Text Search feature. Thanks to their AI-powered indexing and transcribing of handwritten documents, I uncovered land and probate records connected to Samuel, Robert, and Elizabeth Ann Curry. These records provided additional names and relationships, allowing me to reconstruct the family with greater confidence.

One settlement record proved especially valuable—it listed the heirs of Samuel Curry and their spouses, along with a land sale to George Cunningham. That name stood out. Further research revealed a FamilySearch listing for George Washington Cunningham married to Amanda Curry—whose parents were listed as Samuel and Susanna Devine Curry, who were married in Mercer County, Kentucky. 

That connection opened the door. I located an 1830 census record in Mercer County for Samuel Curry, with household members whose ages matched the known children. At that point, the pieces, including the Kentucky connection, began to fall into place. With the accumulated evidence, I felt confident enough—perhaps 87%—to reconstruct the family of Samuel and Susanna (Devine) Curry.

Picture: Reconstruction of the family of Samuel Curry. Three residents in 1830 could have been helpers, relatives, or children who left the household. Boy 2 in the 1840 Census could be a relative or hired hand.

There are still uncertainties. The birth year listed for Samuel in FamilySearch (1782) would be a few years too early according to the 1840 census but not the 1830 census, and there are many Curry families in 18th-century Kentucky to sort through. The age of the daughter who may be Sarah may be miscalculated in the 1830 census. But the nature of the problem has changed. I am no longer stuck at a brick wall—I am now in the confirmation stage.

Artificial intelligence tools played an important role in this breakthrough, especially in uncovering records that would have been difficult to locate otherwise. Still, human judgment, careful analysis, and a willingness to question assumptions were essential in bringing the pieces together into a more complete picture.

The search continues—but now, it feels like progress.

52 Ancestors 2026: A Family Pattern – The Great Convergence!

 

History may not repeat, but it often rhymes. In my genealogy research, I’ve noticed recurring themes—shared Reformed Protestant faith, the abundance of Davids in my Cossart/Cossairt/Cassatt line—but the most prominent pattern is migration.

Since the early 1600s, my ancestors from various European countries crossed the Atlantic to the New World for many reasons, from escaping persecution to seeking opportunity. I continue to be amazed that my family lines were present at the founding of Plymouth Colony, Massachusetts Bay Colony, and New Netherland, as well as in the early years of William Penn’s Province of Pennsylvania. From these footholds, and from other colonial settlements, they began to look beyond the eastern seaboard toward lands that were opening up—at least from the settlers’ perspective—while already inhabited by Indigenous peoples.

Thus began the westward migrations of my ancestral families. New England lines moved into New York and then on to Ohio or Indiana. Mid-Atlantic families migrated into the Appalachian regions of Pennsylvania and beyond into Ohio, Kentucky, and Illinois. Southern branches traveled through Kentucky and Tennessee. One line even set out along the Oregon Trail—though my ancestor, interestingly, was left behind.

By the time of the Civil War, certain patterns had begun to emerge. Several families—such as the Younts, Mayfields, Maddoxes, and Currys (more on them next week—stay tuned!)—had settled in Missouri, from the southeastern region to the north-central part of the state. The Maddox and Curry families eventually established themselves in Vernon County and were among the earliest settlers in southwest Missouri, an area that would soon be torn apart by the guerrilla wars. Meanwhile, other branches of the family were still living in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois.

The war, however, reshaped these patterns. Afterward, the prairies of southwestern Missouri opened further for settlement, and many of these eastern and midwestern families continued their westward movement, ultimately converging in Barton County by around 1870. There, they put down roots—farming the land and building communities that would endure for generations.

Regardless of their sympathies during the war—Union, Confederate, or simply a desire to avoid the conflict altogether—these families eventually came together. The descendants of English, Scottish, Irish, French, German, Dutch, Belgian, and Swiss immigrants blended into a uniquely American lineage, rich with shared history.

In a nation that continues to grow more diverse and multicultural, we are all part of this ongoing story—from Indigenous peoples to colonial settlers to modern immigrants, and everyone in between. What unites us is not just our origins, but the ideals that continue to bind us together.

52 Ancestors 2026: An Address with a Story – Back on the Farm

 

I’m a city kid, born and raised in Buffalo, and I’ve always felt at home in cities—large and small. The walking, the buildings, the people, and the sheer variety of sights are endlessly engaging. But my family’s experience, stretching back many generations to the founding of this country, has been almost entirely rural or small-town—even including New York City back when it was New Amsterdam.

Growing up, the quickest way I reconnected with my rural roots was through occasional visits to Barton County, Missouri, to the farm of my (great) aunt and uncle, Ben and Mary (Fast) Hizar. It was there that I saw my uncles and cousins from my mother’s side of the family. We were sometimes there for the Fast family reunion or for the Fourth of July—celebrated in a place where fireworks of all kinds were legal and the open spaces seemed endless.

Aunt Mary was a teacher, and although she and Uncle Ben had no children of their own, she kept a wonderful collection of books for young readers. I was especially fascinated by the Golden Book Encyclopedia (encyclopedias being a major part of my childhood reading), written by that font of scientific knowledge Bertha Morris Parker, also the author of The Golden Book of Science for Boys and Girls and The Golden Treasury of Natural History, both of which played a big role in my early science education. On one visit, I even left behind my treasured natural history book—replaced the following Christmas—so she could share it with her students.

I was also captivated by a table lamp with a picture of a steam locomotive and a small insert that spun from the heat of the bulb, creating the illusion of steam rising from the smokestack. Yes, I was easily amused.

But beyond these small memories, it was on that farm that I first heard many of the family stories I now continue to explore through genealogical research—stories like Ben McWilliams’s Civil War experiences, including his ordeal at Andersonville. Being on the farm also gave me a firsthand look at daily rural life: feeding and milking cows, growing and harvesting crops. Since Cheerios were an important part of my father’s job and a staple in our household, seeing oats growing in the field was a special treat.

So this wasn’t one of my residences, nor is it a famous address in American history. It was simply a place I visited—a place where I connected with my roots.

Note: This also reminds me that I need to scan more of my Missouri slides so I don’t have to rely on photographing them off a computer screen and fixing them with Gemini!

52 Ancestors 2026: A Turning Point—Or Points

 

With so many immigrant and migrating ancestors—and so many who were called to serve their country—there have been many turning points in my family history. One story that stands out is the journey of my 9th-great-grandmother, Catalynje Trico, born in 1605. She and her husband, Joris Jansen Rapelje, were among the first group of settlers to New Amsterdam in 1624. In fact, her life is the subject of a historical novel I am currently reading, Catalynje Trico: A Life in New Amsterdam by Lana Waite Holden.

In many ways, her life included several turning points. The first came in 1623, when she left her widowed mother and her hometown in Hainaut, in French Flanders—then part of the Spanish Netherlands—at about seventeen years of age. As a Reformed (Calvinist) Protestant living under Roman Catholic rule, she faced the threat of persecution from the Inquisition, as did many Protestants in those lands.

After arriving in Amsterdam, she met a young man, Joris Rapelje, who was also a Protestant refugee from French Flanders and worked in the textile trade. The two married in January 1624. Yet even that decision paled beside the one they made just four days later—to board the first ship of settlers bound for New Netherland.

This Dutch migration differed from earlier Pilgrim migrations, which centered on established religious communities whose families often migrated together. The Dutch West India Company hoped to establish a colony in the New World that could serve both as a trading foothold and a supply station for ships; however, convincing Dutch citizens to leave their relatively comfortable lives in the Netherlands for the hardships of frontier life proved difficult. The early struggles of Plymouth Colony were well known and likely discouraged many potential settlers.

As a result, many of the earliest colonists were Walloon refugees—people who had already been displaced from their homelands but had not yet fully established themselves in Dutch cities like Amsterdam.

Catalynje, perhaps drawn by a sense of adventure—or perhaps by the feeling of never fully belonging in Amsterdam—decided to take the risk. She and Joris boarded the ship Eendracht ("Unity"), reaching the New World about two months later. After a brief stay near Fort Orange, they helped establish the settlement of New Amsterdam at the southern tip of Manhattan. There they farmed, gardened, and operated a small taproom that served patrons from many lands and cultures. The couple eventually had eleven children, including the first child born in the colony, Sarah, and also their fourth child, Judith, from whom I am descended. Despite the hardships of early colonial life, they became respected citizens of the young settlement.

Another remarkable aspect of this story is the Catalyntje was the only original settler who lived through the entire history of New Amsterdam—from its founding until the British takeover in 1674. Much of what historians know about the early years of New Netherland comes from depositions she gave while in her eighties. She died in 1689 and is buried in the Flatbush Reformed Dutch Cemetery.

It is fascinating to wonder what might have happened if Catalynje had chosen differently. What opportunities would a young refugee couple have found in Amsterdam? The decision to sail to the New World carried enormous risks, but it ultimately allowed them to build a life and become leading citizens in a new colony.

Her life—the hardships she endured, the many children and descendants she left behind, and her role in the earliest settlement of what would become one of the world’s greatest cities—all trace back to that pivotal decision to leave the Old World and take a chance in the New.

Photos:

Top: Catalynje Trico: A Life in New Amsterdam by Lana Waite Holden

Middle: Walloon Church, taken by author