I've been doing genealogy work for several years. It's a never ending detective story. Here's one of my best finds:
My grandmother passed away December 2001. She was a descendent of a family that settled in and around Ladoga, Indiana in the 1830's. At the time of my grandmothers death it was well known that I had a keen interest in genealogy therefore was given all of my grandmothers notes, newspaper clippings and mementos pertaining to her knowledge and findings of her branch and related families.
While sifting through some of the clippings I came across an article from a 1985 issue of the Crawfordsville Daily Journal. It was a transcription of a letter written by my gggg-grandfather. Of particular interest to me was the articles description of a home built by his father and it's location in Botetourt County, VA.
Due to the probable age of the home and date of the article I couldnt be sure if the home still stood so during one of my frequent visits to the Library of Virginia I looked for all the references I could find on the family and Botetourt County. I found several references including one that seemed most promising as it stated the ancestral home was located at the end of a certain road just outside of Roanoke, Va.
Armed with a probable location of the home I set off to southern VA on my quest. Upon reaching the area my first stop was to the gravesite of my ggggg-grandmother who had traveled to America with her husband in the mid 1700s and seeded the beginnings of this particular branch of my family in the colonies. It was pretty easy to find as I had previously contacted the author of a book written on gravesites in the Roanoke/Botetourt County area.
Next I set off to find the home. I located the road it was supposed to be on. I drove to the end and
.. nothing. Saw a gas station on my left, a steep hill in front of me and a small field to the right of me. Hmmm, somethings amiss or its been torn down. So I drove around the area looking for anything that might give an indication of the home. Nothing. After an hour of searching I decided that all was for naught and started to make my way home.
Just as I was about to leave the area I noticed a nondescript antique shop sitting below an adjacent roadway. I thought if the home still existed and if it were of any importance a local antique dealer would surely know of it. I parked, strode up the short flight of steps to the shop and was greeted by a very elderly hound and its owner. I promptly explained my quest to the dealer and to my glee he knew right where the home was, knew the owners and had even been in the home.
The dealer stated that the home is in grand condition inside and out. He continued with the owners having acquired the home after it had sat for many years in disrepair and occupied by vagrants. The owners had restored the home as closely as possible to its original condition leaving all ceilings, doorways, flooring etc., at the original heights and widths and being antique dealers themselves had populated the inside with wares and furnishings normally found at the time of the homes construction.
After some added info the dealer drew a map to its location and with many thanks I was off again. I was at the home in 5 minutes and began chastising myself for overlooking the obvious and not being as thorough as I should have. Yes, the home was at the end of the road I had been on before however, it sat behind a clump of trees at the edge of the field mentioned earlier!!
I parked at the edge of the drive and quickly noticed a sign, The Samuel H________ House Circa 1797. I strode up to the house and noticed another placard attached to the front porch that stated the home is a registered Virginia historic landmark. I knocked on the door. Imagine, requesting the presence of the occupants within the same abode that so many neighbors of my ancestors had over 200 years prior! I was greeted by a woman in her housecoat and quickly changed my request from entrance into the home to just photographing the outside; to which she happily approved. I spent about 15 minutes taking photos of the grounds and home, packed up my equipment and headed down the road.
While on the highway I reflected on my fortune and lessons learned. How fortunate I was that my grandmother had kept that newspaper article. How fortunate that my last duty station was in Virginia. How fortunate my family is that the ancestral home is in the hands of such caring owners. Lastly, it was December 24th, how very fortunate that the antique dealer was open on Christmas Eve.
I guess if there was a lesson to be learned it is to keep everything and leave no stone unturned. You just never know when the pieces will fall into place. I just wish my grandmother had been with me.