I’m disheartened and delighted. The first because all that I’ve been researching has already been found and documented, the second because I’m pretty darn good at this for someone who is unskilled and pretty much unworthy of any pride I take in my ability to hunt people down for the purpose of tracing their ancestors and descendants.
I have done a pretty good job of documenting at least one mystery in the Lemmond Tree; who was Margaret Charlotte Lemon? She was really Margaret Catherine Lemmond, and the rest is already written about in many previous entries in this journal. I’m delighted that I solved that mystery. I’m pleased that the profile for her on WikiTree is no longer empty, but filled with all that I’ve discovered about her and her family. I feel like an expert on Mrs. Margaret Lemmond McCord.
Of course there have been some mistakes along the way, some roads that led no where, some very wrong turns, some grossly ignorant assumptions, but these mistakes serve (I tell myself) only to sharpen my skills (HA!) and make me a better researcher.
I have managed to find some information that was not found (so far as I know) by other people; probate records for Margaret’s grandmother giving the approximate date of her death of the deaths of others that haven’t been recorded in any other trees, census records no one else found, burying places in at least one case.
But my personal life has suffered, to be sure. Knapper was extremely upset with me most all of yesterday because I’ve been in front of this computer for days tracking these people down and ignoring his needs. (I say, dude, if you’re hungry, FIX SOMETHING TO EAT! Don’t wait for me to fix it for you. You’re grown, for goodness sake! But he’s gotten used to me waiting on him almost hand and foot and has not taken kindly to be being rudely pushed aside for the sake of dead people who no longer need to eat or have their houses cleaned or their clothes washed.) I did try to make it up to him by fixing him a wonderful meal last night, one that involved many pots and pans, fresh mushrooms and chicken stock that I turned into a delicious gravy to go with pork steaks I simmered until the bones fell off. It’s not my fault I didn’t constantly remind him to get me some potatoes from the storage he built in our old well pit, I asked him 3 times since before Thanksgiving, and even then I had to buy a bag at the store because I can’t get down in the pit to get them and he kept forgetting. Then yesterday when he finally got around to it, he discovered the potatoes had all frozen. We had the gravy over rice.
In all it’s been a fascinating journey, and who knows? These Lemmonds may well turn out to be related to my own Lemons yet.