The Genealogists’ Alphabet, part C

Sometimes the past doesn’t need to be so distant to seem far away. Cleaning out things that the kids have outgrown turned up one of those typical alphabet books that are for kids that can’t yet read. The kind of book whose genealogist version might start—

A is for ancestor, with whom you’re engrossed.

B is for boundaries, which they crossed and crossed and crossed.

So what might an alphabet book for genealogists might look like? I’ve already taken a stab at “A” and “B.” So, for genealogists what might “C” be for?

C is for Citation

“C” could be for “citation,” the thing that leads you back to the source of your information. Genealogy that contains information but no citations is like a tree without roots. It might be a very nice looking tree, but it will fall over. Roots keep trees standing. Statements like, “this is supported by page 17 of volume 2 of town records, it reads…”

“C” could be for “crime,” something that gets at least some ancestors into court documents (another “c” word), newspapers and those secret stories that great aunt Gertrude used to whisper when she was in a trusting mood. It certainly requires a bit of distance between you and the discovered crime for it to feel like an unadulterated genealogical bonanza. How many years, generations and branchings of your tree depends on you and the crime.

“C” could be for “cemetery,” a place where our records actually are carved in stone, though that doesn’t make them any more accurate than the standard paper kind.

“C” could be for “calendar,” the researcher’s map of time, and early January is a fine time to think about calendars. We sometimes forget that there have been multiple calendars. Beware using the wrong map when you explore the past.

“C” could be for “coincidence,” one of my favorite words in a genealogical context. Who would have believed that there were two boatswains named Benjamin Blasphemer in Baytown? Yet with enough genealogists looking for enough ancestors, truly bizarre coincidences must to turn up. The simplest hypothesis may be that there was only one Benjamin Blasphemer, boatswain, (presumably swearing like a sailor) in Baytown but sometimes when we dig deep enough, it becomes clear that the simplest hypothesis doesn’t work.

Those are all fine words, but, given that in genealogy we are interested in all ancestors, not just the ones who owned land or went to a church that kept records, “c” must also be for “census,” which tried to record absolutely everyone.