My friend texted me a picture of the newspaper. I was horrified to see my court appearance for a speeding ticket published for all to see. I had been in a hurry; it was the first time I would open the historical museum alone. I was “eager” to get there. Ugh. Lesson learned.
“Oooh. You criminal!! LOL”
I didn’t think anyone local would think less of me or judge me for driving too fast. All I could think was that some descendant of mine would find it when researching the family in a hundred years!
Most of us never make it into the newspaper more than a handful of times.
It depends on where you live, what you are involved in, or what you achieve. Unfortunately, it also depends on whether you have lost someone close to you and were listed in an obituary. Or, of course, if you have committed a crime.
For instance, my mother-in-law announced our engagement and wedding in the local newspaper. Her obituary also included my full name. That’s one, two, and three—my sister-in-law’s obituary and the one for my husband make four and five. That brings us up to my recent speeding ticket, which makes six.
However, applying my genealogy lens to small newspaper events makes me laugh. Someone will likely create a narrative about my speeding. If I found these six fragments about one of my ancestors, the court appearance would intrigue me the most. Double UGH.
It’s wise to remember this when my imagination hits overdrive because of a new detail about an ancestor.
Offering historical context with precise publication dates, libraries have preserved local heritage by saving newspapers.
As a result, we can appreciate the development of regions and towns through old newspapers. Much more than a repository for information and considered a primary source for genealogical research, a newspaper provides vital context. The publication date quickly pinpoints the historical timeline of events to the day.
On the other hand, it’s not all bad. My mention in the newspaper confirms that I moved to North Carolina shortly after the 2020 census for a future historian.
I found diverse snippets in mid-1850s Kansas newspapers. I learned about the Gwinn family’s life and history, including what happened to Freddie—answering my mother’s lifelong question about her father’s older brother. The Great Bend Register of 04 Feb 1886 vividly described Freddie’s tragic death.
I wonder if social media’s dynamic real-time documentation of life events has completely diminished the odds of a well-rounded collection of newspaper mentions.
How will future researchers tackle the ephemeral nature of user-generated content on various platforms?
Finding genealogical data in newspapers is accessible, as it doesn’t demand technical expertise, and newspapers are public records without privacy concerns.
During the Covid 19 pandemic, I regretted not keeping a diary of our experiences—one that a future “me” would kill to find in the family papers. My daughter and I moved in with my sister’s family, and survival became our priority. We shared a group message thread that my niece named “Quarantine.” I should figure out how to extract and save that as a historical account.
| Sidebar: Saving it for posterity was very easy. iMessage syncs with iCloud on my Mac. In the ‘Quarantine’ thread, I scrolled up to the first message from 2020 and chose file>print. I selected the PDF option in the lower-left corner of the print dialogue box and created a 160-page document. It needs editing for better formatting, but I’m glad to have it for our family history! |
It is daunting to ponder the digital footprint we leave in our wake. Never mind the poundage of passwords needed for access.
In a way, my text threads are the most authentic story a future “me” could get their hands on. They contain more detail than the family letters from the 1800s.
Today’s message threads capture our interpersonal interactions and records of our day-to-day lives.
I already search my messages when I want to remember or find something. Yesterday, I looked to find out when the tree guy had taken down the oak. Then I saw the invoice by date quickly. Recently, I also counted how often I have had a bat in my new house. Probably tell my siblings too much, but knowing how many I had dealt with when I called my builder allowed me to be emphatic. I love them outside; I do not like bats inside my house. Right, encounters I have had with bats are a story for a different blog.
I can think of a few threads I’d like to save as PDFs and tuck away as part of my personal history. Not because someone in the future should see the mundane things like yardwork and animal control. They also contain everything from plans to meet for protests or vote and thoughts on parenting, travel, health, and heartbreak.
Compared to texting, my Facebook and Instagram activity is minimal. This makes them slightly less accurate. Additionally, the timeline can be faulty. The timestamp of a post may not match when an event happened, or a photograph was taken.
Technology usage could be a boon for the future family historian if we consider how to curate and grant access to it.
It’s easy to think about our collections of digital photographs, emails, text messages, and social media accounts. Still, will future researchers also try to figure out who I was by my digital calendars and health and fitness tracking? How about my online purchases and transactions? The way I talk to Siri? Will they be able to see my watchlist on Netflix?
While I work to uncover our family stories, I often imagine an unknown future “me.” I peer as far into the future as I can so I can imagine someone turning around and looking back at me. Maybe, in addition to my digital legacy, I’ll do them a favor and print out some things on paper.
The free and public Library of Congress has a terrific collection of digitized newspapers at Chronicling America. Additionally, their general collections page has many resources for genealogists accessible here. I have a subscription to newspapers.com with my Ancestry membership and love it, too.
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