Year-End Reflections: A Year of Listening

As I look back over this year of genealogical writing and research, what stands out most is not a single discovery or solved mystery, but a growing sense that I spent the year listening—to records, to artifacts, to family stories, and sometimes to silence where answers have not yet surfaced.

This was a year of moving back and forth between the tangible and the intangible. Census pages, probate files, military records, DNA results, and maps formed the backbone of much of my work, yet again and again it was the human dimension that demanded attention. Names on paper slowly became people with choices, constraints, and inner lives shaped by their time and place. In many ways, the work felt less like collecting facts and more like learning how to stand quietly with them.

Migration emerged as a constant thread. Families crossed oceans, colonies, state lines, and cultural boundaries—not once, but repeatedly. These movements were not abstract arrows on a map; they were responses to pressure, opportunity, belief, loss, and hope. Tracing those paths reinforced how provisional “home” often was, and how resilience became an inherited trait long before it was recognized as such.

Another recurring theme was uncertainty. Some stories deepened and clarified, while others resisted tidy conclusions. Rather than feeling like failure, those unresolved questions became part of the narrative itself. Accepting ambiguity—acknowledging what cannot yet be proven—felt like an honest and necessary discipline this year. Genealogy, after all, is as much about asking careful questions as it is about finding answers.

Personal artifacts and firsthand accounts brought particular weight to the work. Heirlooms, memoirs, and family objects bridged the distance between past and present in ways no index ever could. These moments reminded me that history is not only recorded; it is carried—sometimes literally—from one generation to the next.

Writing throughout the year helped shape the research rather than merely report it. Putting words on the page clarified thoughts, exposed assumptions, and occasionally revealed connections I might otherwise have missed. The blog became not just a record of findings, but a space for reflection, reevaluation, and dialogue with the past.

If this year taught me anything, it is that genealogy is not a straight line toward certainty. It is a layered, iterative process—part detective work, part storytelling, part humility. The reward lies not only in discoveries made, but in the patience learned along the way.

As I move into the next year, I do so with a deeper respect for the people whose lives I am trying to reconstruct, and for the process itself. Their stories deserve care, context, and time. This year was an important step in learning how to give them just that.

Acknowledgment:

This year-end reflection was drafted by ChatGPT (OpenAI), based on my published blog posts and research.

Picture: ChatGPT Image Dec 25, 2025 at 12_08_31 PM

52 Ancestors 2025: Memorable – Too Many to Count

 

The Blogging Adventure

This new blogging adventure, inspired by Amy Johnson Crow’s 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks challenge, led to a burst of genealogical research and a wealth of discoveries. The challenge also prompted me to turn those discoveries into stories about my ancestors and the times and places in which they lived. I have been researching my family for more than 30 years, and I’ve noticed a familiar pattern: bursts of activity—usually in the winter, when there are fewer outdoor chores—followed by long periods of genealogical idleness.

This challenge helped me stay engaged throughout the year. It also guided me toward better research and organizational practices, especially through tips found in 31 Days to Better Genealogy by Amy Johnson Crow. The spreadsheet template for generating a research timeline alone was worth the cost of the book. Through various websites and YouTube channels, I also learned to use new research tools and to appreciate the growing power of modern computer technologies—but more about that later.

Organization and Direction

Thinking about organization made me realize that part of my difficulty is simply that I have too many American ancestors, with lines reaching back as far as 1620. With so many possible directions to pursue, I began concentrating on tracing lines backward from each great-grandfather in hopes of breaking through long-standing brick walls. At the same time, I wanted to confirm lineages published in the FamilySearch tree (and elsewhere) and explore the growing wealth of available sources.

Census records proved especially helpful in tracing families over time, and I used various tools to identify households in the pre-1850 censuses. FamilySearch’s Full Text Search has become an invaluable resource for locating land and court records. Along the way, I uncovered writings that preserved family histories or offered firsthand accounts of events, and every so often I found photographs posted on genealogical websites that added yet another dimension to the research.

Major Themes

As I worked through these stories, several themes consistently emerged: ancestors who were among the earliest settlers in particular colonies, patterns of westward migration, the rhythms of ordinary family life, and my family’s participation in pivotal moments in American history.

It turns out that I have ancestors who were among the earliest settlers in Plymouth, Massachusetts; New Amsterdam; and William Penn’s colonies. Many of these families—Pilgrims, Puritans, Quakers, and Huguenots—faced persecution in England, France, or the Spanish Netherlands. They came seeking religious freedom as well as opportunity, and their colonies later became centers of revolutionary thought and action in the mid- to late 18th century.

Subsequent waves of Puritans, Huguenots, and Dutch immigrants were joined by Scots-Irish and German settlers in the southern and mid-Atlantic colonies. As farmland grew scarce, families began migrating westward during and after the Revolution. Some moved into the interior of the original Thirteen Colonies, while others crossed the Appalachian Mountains. Northern routes led into Ohio, while southern families often passed through Tennessee and Kentucky. Although some Huguenot and Dutch families followed the Wilderness Road into Kentucky, my family’s migration followed a more northerly route into Ohio and then through Indiana and Illinois, eventually reaching Missouri—some soon after statehood, others following the Civil War.

This year’s research also illuminated the lives of ordinary people, most of them farmers. Their lives revolved around extended family networks and church communities. Farm histories, plat maps, and the agricultural schedules of the U.S. Census provided valuable insight into how they lived and worked. Many also maintained home industries, such as broom making. In a few cases, I uncovered more recent—and sometimes murkier—family histories that had previously been only hinted at.

With such deep and continuous roots in America, it became possible to trace the nation’s history itself, from colonization through industrialization. These stories include the forces that drove migration from Europe, from religious conflict to suppression by the Russian Empire. Ship manifests, including records from Ellis Island, and naturalization papers helped document these journeys. Beyond internal migration, some family members traveled as far west as the Pacific Coast along the Oregon Trail. Others were caught up in the wars fought on American soil. Many ancestors served the patriot cause during the American Revolution—as soldiers, militia members, and even spies—and later faced conflict with Indigenous peoples as settlers moved into disputed lands. During the Civil War, three ancestors enlisted in the Union Army, while other branches of the family held Confederate sympathies, either quietly or in active opposition.

New Tools

In 2025, genealogists have access to an extraordinary range of tools. Traditional records such as the U.S. Census remain foundational, but the emergence of large language models has added a new dimension to research. Tools like ChatGPT or Gemini can assist with transcribing handwritten or typed records, interpreting old photographs, and even acting as research aides. FamilySearch has incorporated similar technologies through Full Text Search and other AI-assisted features.

I have also used ChatGPT to review my writing for grammatical errors and awkward sentence structure, while trying to preserve my own voice. Its output still requires editing—occasionally it misunderstands what I’ve written, and I have to rein it in when it insists too often that my ancestors demonstrated “resilience.”

Notable Lines

I devoted a significant amount of time to my Huguenot paternal line, tracing the evolution of the surname from Cossart to Cossairt to Cassatt, with my great-grandfather David Cassatt appearing frequently. The Reed family, from my maternal line, revealed a particularly compelling 20th-century history that reflects many of the challenges faced by post–World War I farmers. The Fast family had already invested heavily in documenting its genealogy, and I was able to build on those efforts.

The richest contemporary accounts, however, came from my second great-grandfather, Ben McWilliams. His writings tell the story of a young man who went to war and the life he built afterward. Yet there are many more family lines that I never managed to cover.

The Future

Of course, there is still more digging to do—more gaps to fill and, with luck, more brick walls to break down. This year’s research was shaped by the 52 Ancestors challenge, and while I may not contribute every week going forward, the paths uncovered this year will continue to guide my work. I also hope to upload more documents and memories to FamilySearch for others to use and to keep my home computer family tree updated.

If nothing else, maintaining steady progress throughout the year will make the time well spent—and will undoubtedly lead to yet another memorable year of research.

52 Ancestors 2025: A Musical Heirloom

 

This is a bonus post that combines the last two prompts—Family Heirloom and Musical—with perhaps a touch of the Wartime theme as well. It centers on a music book handed down from my great-grandmother, Nellie Louella McWilliams Fast, daughter of Ben McWilliams.

The book, Favorite Songs and Hymns, published in 1939, is a collection of old-time gospel hymns such as “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” and “The Old Rugged Cross,” along with songs deeply rooted in Midwestern and Southern traditions. The Fast family belonged to the Verdella Free-Will Baptist Church, and it’s easy to imagine these hymns sung by the congregation on a Sunday morning, following a long week of farm work.

The hymns, however, aren’t the only memorable part of the book. Written on the inside back cover are the names and addresses of several grandchildren who entered military service during World War II. One can easily imagine Grandma Fast writing letters to them, sharing news of life back on the farm.

Tucked inside the book is also a photograph of Grandma and Grandpa Fast with my twin uncles, John and Joe, taken in July 1941. I don’t know who took the picture, but it was made just a month after my mother had gone east to Buffalo, married my father, and begun their life together there.

So this heirloom isn’t a piece of fine china, antique jewelry, or handcrafted furniture—just a well-worn book and an old, cracked, discolored photograph. Yet together they hold a remarkable number of memories and offer a small but powerful snapshot of a moment in time.

52 Ancestors 2025: Musical — Enthusiasm vs. Talent

 

Although my last name is associated with the visual arts—painting in particular—I have to say that music has always played a major role in my life. What began as a curated LP collection eventually became a curated CD collection, and now exists mostly through music streaming. My tastes run wide, from Gregorian chant to the masters of classical music, to jazz and rock. While I enjoy listening to music, making music has always been even better.

Those of us with slightly geekish tendencies often find a home in bands. In high school, that meant wind ensembles and pit orchestras, playing clarinet and saxophone. In college, marching band provided instant friendships through practices, games, and road trips. These days, I’ve turned my admittedly modest talents to choir singing—either with my church choir or in combined community choirs. All in all, I’m far more a musical enthusiast and amateur musician than a truly accomplished one.

When it comes to genuine musical talent, however, I have to turn to my wife’s side of the family. Her family is Polish, though because much of Poland was under Russian rule at the time, their country of origin was often listed simply as Russia. One particularly intriguing ancestor—whom we’ve met before—was Wincenty (or Vincent) Działakiewicz, who emigrated from Hamburg in 1904. Born on 5 April 1884, his first 20 years in Poland were eventful. According to family stories, he aspired to the priesthood and attended seminary. There is also a tradition that he received conservatory training, possibly in Warsaw, though documentary evidence is scarce. What we do know is that his ship manifest listed him as an organist, bound for Brooklyn.

At the time, Russia was drafting young men from seminaries for service in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905. Unwilling to fight for the empire that was oppressing his homeland, Vincent was smuggled out of Poland to Germany, where he embarked for America—and freedom.

In Brooklyn, he met his future wife, Zophia Wysocka, who also came from a family of Polish patriots, and they married less than four years after his arrival. Beyond his family, Vincent’s great loves were music and the Polish Catholic Church. He expressed both through his work as an organist at Polish parishes in Naugatuck, Connecticut, and Glen Cove, Long Island, where he died in 1959. One family story holds that he was a friend—possibly even a student—of the great Polish pianist and nationalist Ignacy Paderewski, and that Paderewski visited him while touring the United States.

As for later generations, my daughter took piano lessons for years and became quite accomplished. My son, however, showed exceptional musical ability, studying classical guitar at the Manhattan School of Music and later film score composition at the Seattle Film Institute. Although he didn’t pursue a high-profile career, he has performed on occasion and, like his father, sings in his church choir—though with considerably stronger musicianship.

My children inherited my enthusiasm for music, but fortunately for them, they were also blessed with far more talent.

Note: The picture is of St. Joseph's Roman Catholic Church in Glen Cove, NY. While it's not certain that this was the church where Vincent presided as organist, it was the Polish Catholic church in Glen Cove.

52 Ancestors 2025: Family Heirloom — Real and Imaginary

 

Given the many moves my family has made over the generations, the number of children in each generation, and the fact that we were never awash in finery, I don’t have many heirlooms with clear and definite family ties. Maybe one or two come close. There is a plate decorated with old-fashioned “ABCs” that my mother said came to Missouri in a covered wagon. I’m not entirely sure whether that story originated in our family or in an antique shop, or whether there truly was a Reed ancestor who traveled west before the age of railroads. From what I’ve been able to determine from my family tree, the earliest Missouri pioneers were on my paternal side.

My father passed along a number of useful items. As a millwright, he accumulated a wide collection of tools, including a formidable ½-inch drill with a yoke and side handle that can power its way through just about anything. One item he gave me was an Eclipse shoe cobbler stand (see above), said to have belonged to my great-grandfather, likely Henry Yount. Like my other paternal great-grandfather, David Cassatt—who ran a home broom-making operation—I suppose Henry “Skinhorn” (and there must be a story behind that nickname) Yount may have worked on shoes.

But there is one heirloom I truly wish I had.

My second-great-grandfather, Ben McWilliams, described a cane he had made by a German woodcarver during the Civil War. In 1862, he worked for a sutler, John H. Gotshall of the 172nd Pennsylvania Regiment, near Yorktown, Virginia. He described the area this way:

There was a monument standing there marking the place where Cornwallis surrendered to Gen Washington. It had a fence made of red Cedar pickets run in around same.

The site had also seen fighting during the Peninsula Campaign.

After the battle of Yorktown the fence was badly destroyed; but upon looking around I found a thin detached 2x4 rail covered with grass that had escaped destruction. I found a knot in center which enabled me to break in in two, which gave me a pied enough to make four canes. I gave half of it away, found a German wood carver in the Regiment, and gave him the other half in payment for his services in carving me a cane. He carved me out a cane, with the Goddess of Liberty on the head on one side and the Eagle and a copperhead on the other side. He then carved a union soldier standing up, under them, standing upon a cannon ball, and a big snake wound around the cane, which represented the copperhead trying to bite him (2 feet long.) I took it home and gave it to my grandfather, who returned it to me just before his death. I still have it.

I asked both ChatGPT and Gemini to generate renderings of the cane based on this description. 

Gemini:

ChatGPT:

To me, the results seem more decorative than practical—but it’s hard not to imagine what that cane must have looked like, and what it would feel like to hold an heirloom so vividly tied to both family and national history.

52 Ancestors 2025: Written – Blasts from the Past

 

Finding something written by an ancestor is like uncovering buried treasure. Not only does it create a personal connection, but it also offers a unique window into history—a chance to see the past through the eyes of an ordinary person (unless, of course, your ancestor happened to be famous).

Some writings I've shared before, such as those of Rev. John Hale, a key figure in the Salem witch trials whose A Modest Inquiry into the Nature of Witchcraft remains a remarkable firsthand account. Another example is Jairus Abijah Bonney, who described his journey along the Oregon Trail.

A particularly rich source of ancestral writing comes from military pension records, especially from the Revolutionary War and the Civil War. These statements—often dictated to county clerks—detail hardships, illnesses, battles, and the testimonies of neighbors and comrades. Christian Fast recorded his capture and escape from the Delaware Indians during the Revolution. Civil War pension files for David Cassatt, Anthony Gilmartin, and Benjamin McWilliams also provide vivid snapshots of their lives.

But the richest writings of all belong to my 2nd-great-grandfather, Ben McWilliams. He chronicled his enlistment in the Union Army, his capture and imprisonment, his release, and his life afterward. We’ve already met Ben through his descriptions of Andersonville prison, his emotional homecoming, and even his return to everyday chores like hog butchering and barn raising. His account of the unbroken prairie is especially striking—typical of what many settlers saw when they first arrived in new territory.

Ben wrote all of this by hand. I remember my Uncle Jim typing the memoirs so they could be shared, and more recently I used ChatGPT’s OCR tools to digitize the original pages. Reading through his story, several things stand out. He describes the “Raiders” from Confederate prison camps who targeted other prisoners, such as a fellow prisoner from the early days, John McElroy. Ben wondered what became of McElroy; it turns out he survived the war and made his mark in print. He later became a journalist and wrote extensively about those same camps.

Ben’s writings also reveal what a hustler he was. In prison, he figured out ways to get extra rations and outwit illiterate guards. After the war, he worked wherever he could—as a collier, mason, fisherman, laborer—and eventually settled into farming and family life. He mentions numerous relatives whose names we can now trace on FamilySearch. He also recounts conflicts with local rascals, which may explain some of the legal records I’ve uncovered.

There is so much to learn from the written traces our ancestors left behind. It makes me wonder what kind of written legacy we should be leaving for those who come after us.