I recently read the answers to a genealogist's request for people's "top three genealogical regrets," and discovered that I am not alone. Hands down, the greatest frustration and sorrow reported was over not recording stories and asking questions of those who died taking irretrievable history with them. I'm far from the only one who developed an interest in family history too late to get easy and accurate answers to the family mysteries that are now taking so much time and effort to unravel, and which may never be made clear. From bare-facts birth, death, and marriage information, to photographs of people and places once dearly loved by those whose love made us what we are, to the unique, intimate, and irreplaceable stories of a family's daily lives, thoughts, feelings, and culture—these personal connections with history all too often mean little to the young, engrossed as they are in the here and now.
Even those fortunate young people who take an interest in their elders' tales are rarely forward-thinking enough to make sure the stories are recorded, nor do they often know at the age of 20 what questions they will wish answered when they are 50. It must, therefore, be the responsibility of the older generation to assemble, record, and save what information they can, keeping it safe "against that day" when their children, or grandchildren, or great-grandchildren will be grateful for their efforts.When I speak of elders, I do not necessarily mean old folks. Trust me, when you try to remember events for which you have no written record, you discover you can recall but little of many momentous occasions you were certain you'd never forget, so don't think you can easily delay the project till the time when your kids are all grown, or when you retire. Here are some lessons I've learned, mostly the hard way, about how to avoid genealogical regrets.
- Keep a diary. I speak as one whose own journal-keeping has become exceedingly spotty in the last couple of years, and who wishes she'd started it sooner than after her youngest child was already two years old, so I'm no role model. But what have managed to record has been an invaluable memory aid and a source of many great family stories that otherwise would have been lost. The thought of keeping a written, daily journal can be intimidating, but almost anything is better than nothing. Even brief notes, such as "Today Bill, Joan, and Tiffany came for dinner," or "Jeffrey swam the full length of the pool," can trigger memories for later expansion. The more detail the better, especially if it includes thoughts, feelings, and philosophical musings, but good enough is better than perfect if perfect isn't going to happen.
- Take pictures, and label them. Digital cameras make it easy to take photographs, but all too often that means 100 times more unlabelled photos to puzzle over. When I look up to the shelves above my desk and see album after album of photos. most of which will lose all meaning if I don't identify them, I become Dorothy, watching the sand pour inexorably through the hourglass and trying not to panic.
- Identify family heirlooms. You may treasure your great-grandmother's teacup, but if your heirs don't know it was hers, it's just another non-microwaveable dish. Take pictures, label them, and make sure your kids know where the information is stored.
- Write down the stories from your past, especially where they intersect other people's. As important as I believe my genealogical work to be, always nagging at the back of my mind is the realization that I am the eldest in my family, and if I get killed by a car as I bike along the trail (as happened to one woman here recently), many stories will be lost that my siblings and children would rather hear than know the identity of their great-great-great grandparents.
- Find a safe place to keep your irreplaceable information. The three most important words in data storage: backup, backup, backup. Don't trust to one medium, either; CDs deteriorate over time, hard drives crash, papers get moldy. Determine the person in your family most interested in taking over your family history collection after you die, and include that bequest in your will. If you can find no one who cares enough to save it for future generations, consider bequeathing some of it to a long-standing and reputable genealogical society.
- Document your sources. Facts and stories are of minimal value when stripped of source information. Does Great-Great-Grandpa Jim's birth date come from a family Bible, an unreliable Internet genealogy, his birth certificate, or the failing memory of Aunt Jane? Who told the story of Uncle Dick falling out of the apple tree—Dick himself, or his second cousin who wasn't there but heard the story from his sister?
- Organize, organize, organize. All the data in the world is useless if no one can find it, or if it fills 20 large books no one else will want to store, much less read.
- Distribute your work. Don't wait till it's perfect, or even half done, to share your discoveries with others. Several short stories now are much more likely to bless your family than a masterpiece unearthed only after your will is read. Put your unfinished (but organized) work where it can be seen: you'll gain proofreaders and contributors, you may inspire others to record their own family history, and you'll have established another level of backup for your data.
- Don't be overwhelmed, but start today and be consistent. Find five minutes at the end of each day to jot down a few notes and you'll create a priceless legacy for your children. Can you spare twenty minutes instead? Choose one project—photo identification, writing your children's birth stories, whatever inspires you at the moment—and apply the Daffodil Principle. Dedicate a mere 15 minutes a day to that project—consistently, four days a week, for a just 40 weeks out of the year—and by this time next year you will have put in a full work-week's worth of time and accomplished wonders. Maybe even have moved on to another project or two.
- Don't allow the knowledge that the future is rapidly closing in on your ability to document the past take away from your life in the present. I'm still working on this one, too.
