my Flemings

photo from wiki

DNA
key to my ancestors
link to distant cousins with a shared passion
to know our ancestors
to learn from them
to fulfill their promise
to breathe life into their lost names, etched in stone, fading in old churchyards

My 4th cousin 2x removed gave me a tremendous family gift - PLACE
thanks to his reaching out, I took his names and places and found mine
gratitude washes over me with the faces of my past
County Down, in the area around Ballydown
this cousin was born in the area
he lives in the area
he has stories
his stories are my stories
now I know them
now I record them
now the past has place, which makes the ground of the present feel more solid
and soon I will know the land and walk where my Fleming ancestors did

connections via DNA - my Canadian cousin

I have embraced the magic of DNA matching wholeheartedly. Magic?! Yes, for those of us who are passionate about re-creating our family trees it is.

Last night, I spent the evening with dozens of my coworkers, saying goodbye to one of our own as she accepted a transfer to another city, following her joy.

Last year, randomly searching a last name in my DNA matches, I stumbled upon the name of a retired coworker. The match was small, I starred it and left it there. I had gifted my mother and brother a DNA kit as our expressions of DNA vary among siblings, and having my mother test helps narrow down maternal/paternal matches.  When their results came in, I went back to my starred match, and both my brother and mother did - my mother being a slightly stronger match.

DNA cousins.

She was there last night, she has a face that could easily fit in with my Irish family, but she knows of none. She has Forrest splashed all over her family tree - and so this is the link we will explore.  I hope some day to tell her where our Forrests meet. I suspect she is a 6th cousin to my mother, just out of reach of my current research, it spurs me on.

I have made connections and messaged with several DNA cousins, most with a stronger link by genetics - but I worked with her for years, despite a generational difference, we were friends at work, and last night, we wore cardigan sweaters that were the exact same shade of royal blue - of dozens of coworkers, past and present, we were the only 2 sporting this colour.

I have a Canadian cousin now, and one that I am blessed enough to call friend.

A bit more DNA magic.

the earliest memories - my grandfather

Reflecting on my grandfather, William O'Donoghue (1907-1976)

I don't remember where I first read about it, but know that memories start making recollective imprints around the age of 5. And this is true for me. From about the age of 5, I have a flood of memories I can tap into, and before that, nearly nothing.

I have 2 memories from my very early childhood. Given that I was so young, I can only assume that they were very impactful points in my young life.

The first was when I had my tonsils removed, just before I turned 3. I remember the colour of the walls - those sea green walls. I remember how I felt...afraid and alone despite the whir of people around me.

The second was when I was 3. I was in Ireland, at my grandparents' home. My grandfather with the big smile and gentle laugh was carrying me, I remember the warmth of his sweater pressing against my face, lifting me up, as I reached for an apple from a tree in his orchard. A chorus of laughter swept over us like a wave of security. That moment is frozen in time, deeply embedded in memory, I feel it within the depths of my heart when I recount it, it stirs up tears when I do. I felt safe, loved, and joy.

Whenever I need to remember my first moments of joy, I return to that memory. There is a photograph in one of my parents' albums of him holding me, both of us beaming happiness. I will add that to this post when I see it again.

He died a year later.

My grandfather, William O'Donoghue was a teacher, and then principal of a National school in Ireland. His wife, my grandmother, Mary O'Connor was also a teacher.

I have several uncles who were teachers.

I am a teacher.

And my grandfather, when I was 3 years old, taught me how to find joy in the most ordinary of moments. And I am so grateful that my mind captured such a beautiful, enduring memory of him.

David Forrest

I don't think this will be the only post I write about my 2x great grandfather David Forrest.
I am finishing reading a book by one of his grandsons, and he is featured in the early chapters quite prominently.
It gives me a sense of his presence.
And I felt his presence far before reading this book (WORSE COULD HAVE HAPPENED - ANDREW FORREST)

He travelled...he lived in other countries...and as I researched and learned more of him, I found he had been to Canada.
I suppose this was a big deal because before my mum, I didn't know of anyone in my direct line who had been to this country.
He spent some time in the Prairies...I found him in Saskatchewan at one point.

When his travelling days were over, when his 10 years in Australia were brought to an abrupt end (family duties, returning to Ireland as his brother was ill, and David was to manage the family land), I got a sense of who he evolved into.

an activist who worked for farmers rights in establishing the dairy collective
a well-read man who delighted his grandchildren with stories of Egypt and the pharaohs
a man who spent hours sitting out under the trees reading
someone I feel I have met through time and ancestral memory.

margaret christie mcfarlane stokes

two years ago my father died

and I never felt connected to him

this is partly why I started researching my family tree

to find some connection, for something familiar
through servants and weavers
illicit affairs and suicides

and then - my elusive 3x great grandmother

MARGARET CHRISTIE b 1820, married 1837, d 1889

well, she has been a research challenge

and now I know her, I know what she gave me. She is my first paternal link to health care work, and perhaps I am hers.

her husband committed suicide in 1856, I glean from it that he had possibly been involved in union organizing, and was being banned from other Clydebank factories, and it was publicized enough to find him.

but I have wondered about her - 36 years old in 1856 and 8 children later and a husband who committed a very public suicide in front of his co-workers...well I wasn't sure

I found her..in the 1861 Scotland Census married to a John Stoker (sp Stokes)
The irony is I already have Stokes in my happy Cork family roots

But Margaret - well she must have been so resourceful

she became a MIDWIFE in BELFAST!
I stumbled upon an article in 1869 that mentions her

and she is my first link with my health care career.
so I thank her
and she knows now I carry her with me.
I carry part of her spirit as I also treat others...funny my affinity for treating pregnancy and fertility issues


and now, my 3x greatgrandmother, I can nearly hear you whisper as I work with others.
I trust you are with me.
I carry you
I carry you in every cell

beenalacht - Bridget Sexton

I am so grateful that irishgenealogy recently expanded the coverage years for marriages in Ireland.

Research = CONFIRMED!

My second great grandmother was from Beenalacht (spelled many ways) - Beenaloucht, Beengalacht, Beenalaght.  These small breakthroughs mean the world to amateur genealogists like myself, who wade through scribbled memories, parish registers, anything that can confirm family stories.

There have been many standing stone circles connected with my ancestors, and Bridget now continues that tradition...

from https://www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=1768




 

from the farm by the sea - Seaton

Finding family names, making the connection, well it's arduous work.

I have struggled nearly every step of the way with my paternal side. Am thankful to have the further assistance of DNA matches, as most of this would have been impossible for me to do before.

WHY?
My father did not even know the first names of his grandparents.
My father did not even know his mother's birthday (it's the same day as my eldest son's!_
My father did not even know that his mother was born in Scotland, not Ireland, blocks away from where he himself was born.

I am reconstructing those broken ancestral walls, the ones in ruins, with windows to our shared past. I feel my ancestors come alive as I learn their names.



My latest find is the name SEATON - meaning - from the farm by the sea...the name whispers its romantic spirit, its connection to land and sea - a connection I am seeking.  It intrigues me that several members of this family worked on the sea, or worked on the farm. I don't know where this name fits in yet, I just know it is one of mine.  That is enough for now. To sit with this name, knowing that documents may fail me, but the promise of finding that connection drives me forward.

This will not be the first time I will write this, with the heavy feeling of tears pooling in my eyes...
I wish my father was still alive for this, so I could quietly whisper these names, and hold his hand, even as he slipped away.

The details I know:
SEATON possibilities:

Alexander Seaton, father of John Seaton who left county Tyrone in 1729 for Stafford Virginia. Could Alexander be my ancestor?
- Alexander would have been born in the mid-late 1600s, originally from Lethanty Scotland, and moved to Londonderry. Could this connect with the Douglas line?

George Seaton - Scotland
- immigrated to Virginia colony. Son James born c1690 in Stafford, his son was Captain James

DNA finds -- I have found tree matches for the following Stafford Virginia Seatons in SEVERAL trees:
James - 1723 Stafford Virginia - 7 Jun 1779 Carmichaels Greene PA
John Dishman - 16 Jul 1736 St Pauls Stafford Virginia - 24 Oct 1803 Farquier VA
William - 4 Oct 1743 St Pauls Stafford Virginia - 8 May 1782 Farquier VA

possible additional locations:
Dranity, Tyrone
Londonderry
Lethanty, Scotland

My 3 times great grandfather - Dougall McFarlane

Dougall (Dugal/Dugald/Dougal/Dougald) McFarlane (1815-1856)

born in Dunning, Perthshire Scotland
died along the banks of the Clyde in Glasgow

I always felt a sadness that resided in the anger my father often directed at me. In the year before he died, he expressed deep regret for this. I had long forgiven him as I knew this was key to living my best life.

Part of my genealogical search has been to understand where this sadness stems from, and ancestrally, I see my 3rd great grandfather as tied to this.

Dougall McFarlane was born to Elisabeth Garvie and Dougall McFarlane in 1815. The norm was to have a child baptized soon after birth, but in Dougall's case, there was a 5 month delay.  As I struggled to decipher the scrawled details of his baptismal record, it did become clear...

IN FORNICATION

Dougall was born outside of a marriage union. IN FORNICATION - a mark he could carry with him until his sad end.

Dougall married Margaret Christie in Perth, Perthshire in January of 1837, and according to his marriage bann, he was an apprentice baker at the time. He must have abandoned this for the security of manual labour, and was a saw sharpener by the 1841 census, and until he died.

DEATH BY SUICIDE - DROWNING

The official record. A kind armchair genealogist across the ocean sent me an article he had found. My Dougall had leapt to his death in front of horrified co-workers in October of 1856. He left behind several children and his wife, who'd all be left to their own devices to survive. The article mentioned a court case which has so far been left in the faded days of history.  Sadness. Anger. But overwhelming sadness.

I speak and write his name to help clear these particular ties. I cried when I found out the truth of his sad and desperate death. For a man unafraid of hard labour, whatever he was dealing with must have been monumentally crushing.

I think of him often, and then I think of my father, and the imprint our ancestral past manifesting in future generations - tucked deep in the DNA, brought back when my father's childhood essentially ended - Glasgow, not far from the banks of the Clyde, during World War 2 - in the sounds of night bombings and shattered glass...the breaking of wedding gifts my grandmother had proudly displayed in her dining area...shattered as they ran for their lives and tucked themselves into the bomb shelter my grandfather had built with the help of the neighbours in their back garden. Sadness that resides in anger when one hasn't the tools, nor the history, to express it.

2019

I've started and abandoned several blogs over the years, and was ready to start a new one, but am back to my original. I began this blog in 2005 - before I had children, several houses ago, 1000s of experiences ago. I came to realize I just want to document the things that are important to me, that I don't want to forget (and as my brain ages, and easy place to find what I am looking for.

 So moving forward, am going to evolve the blog, rather than start something completely new. There may be an overlap with my professional work as a registered massage therapist and acupuncturist, and now also as a certified herbalist. I still love to travel, and cook, and live gently. Last year, my passion for genealogy was fully lit, ignited, unstoppable.

Parts of this blog will house my genealogical finds and frustrations. Honouring my ancestors. I realize the whole theme broadly speaks to connection, and part of this process is connecting to the past as well. It feels good to write again, to be past all of the examinations and just type it all out.