Statistics happened to be my least favorite course in college and graduate school. Class was always dry and seemed to condense life down to cold calculations. Why did I need to learn something mechanical, lifeless and irrelevant when I didn’t intend to become an engineer or a nuclear physicist? There seemed little possibility that I would ever use or care about records, data or census information.
A few years later, new interests at hand, some intriguing, nearly forgotten family tales came to light: there might be a fascinating story about the life of someone named Hattie Sheldon, who was my great, great grandmother. Yet, since she lived back in the 19th century, how would I uncover or find her trail from long ago in faraway Utica, NY?
Given the possibility of a link to someone accomplished and memorable, I followed a few weak leads with measured optimism. To my great surprise, I discovered more than anticipated. And even though some finds were just census records, Miss Hattie Sheldon suddenly became real. The hunt was on!
To gain a full picture of her life, however, I needed to find her parents and grandparents. I learned quickly that birth and death dates are the keys that unlock mysteries in genealogy. Without them, I could mix my ancestors up with somebody else’s by the same name. It happens frequently. So I scoured what seemed like the entire internet, but still lacked dates. It felt like I had hit a brick wall.
Before giving up completely, I packed my car and drove to Utica, NY, where I visited the Oneida County Historical Society. Poring through old city directories and books of pioneer biographies, I found only a couple of clues. But they were good ones. Hattie’s father had built a long-standing, reputable business that crafted custom harnesses, trunks and bags. His address was right in the city record, so I was also able to drive down the very street where the family had lived. Yet I still lacked the full gamut of information that only obituaries reveal. And I couldn’t find obituaries without death dates.
A seasoned researcher from Utica began to help me. We sat together at a long table and talked about where to turn next and what to do. A few feet away, a man reading quietly looked up and began to listen. “Have you called Forest Hill Cemetery,” he interrupted. “You ought to call Gerry up there because they don’t publish data.”
Within thirty minutes, Gerald Waterman, a kind man standing under the most impressive Gothic arch I’d ever seen, met me at the gate of Forest Hill Cemetery. Effortlessly, he produced a huge book full of meticulous records about generations of my family who rested eternally up on the hill. Gerry took me to my ancestors’ graves on that sunny, summer day. There, carved into massive granite stones, I found exact dates and whole names for an entire family of unique individuals who lived and loved before my time.
I recorded those names and dates, then took them to the library, where they guided me to newspaper articles from the past. Suddenly, unfolding before me were tidbits about intriguing, productive people. My research yielded facts that I combined with census data to trace their progress through the years, to envision their moves as business improved, and to mourn the way they died. How enterprising and patriotic they had been!
Now, I truly know about my ancestors and their stories. Without the help of statistics like death dates, I would never, ever have been able to picture them in full color. So, after many years, I buried the hatchet and made peace with statistics. It’s amazing what I’ve found since.