Randy's Genealogy Pot-Pourri - Week Ending 30 November 2025

 Here are the highlights of my family history and genealogy related activities over the past week (ending Sunday, 30 November 2025).  

1)  Attended the Chula Vista Genealogical Society Family History General Meeting on Wednesday. Diana Elder presented a fairly basic talk on AI And Genealogy Research.

2)  Participated as a panelist on Mondays With Myrt and we discussed the genealogy research process, reliability of informants, and the Google NotebookLM Infographic and Slide Deck.

3)  Transcribed the 1693 Deed of Shubael and Hannah Seaver selling two parcels of land in Roxbury, Mass. to John Davis for 10 pounds with help from FamilySearch Full-Text Search.

4) Curated genealogy-related articles to keep myself and my readers updated on the genealogy world in:

• Genealogy News Bytes - Week of 19 to 25 November 2025
• Genealogy Education Bytes - Week of 20 to 26 November 2025
• Best of the Genea-Blogs - Week of 23 to 29 November 2025

5)  Wrote two "ABC Biographies" using my AI-assisted "Ancestor Biography Creation" process,  and two Life Memoirs, and posted them on Genea-Musings and Substack, in:

• ABC Biography of Severt Oliver Leland (1878-1940) and Amelia Anna Brocke (1884-1975) Family of San Francisco, California
• ABC Biography of Martin Carringer (1758-1835) and Maria Magdalena "Molly" (Houx) Carringer (1768-1850) of Pennsylvania

• Life Memories of Benjamin Seaver (1757-1816) in 1815 – A Life Memoir

• Life Memories of Abigail (Gates) (Seaver) Seaver (1797-1867) in 1867 – A Life Memoir

• Google NotebookLM Slide Deck Narrated Video for Robert and Elizabeth (Ballard) Seaver

6)  Requested free AI tools to tell me about these genealogy and family history subjects, and posted them on Genea-Musings and Substack: 

• "The Story of Martin and Molly" -- A Family History Poem and Song
• "The Wheelwright's Legacy" -- A Family History Poem and Song

• A Carringer Family Story and Poem - Thanksgiving in 1920 in San Diego
• Turning the Google NotebookLM Slide Show Into a Narrated Video

7)  Created two narrated videos using Google Vids and the Google NotebookLM Slide Deck feature. Google suspended using the Slide Deck and Infographic features for free accounts.

8)  Posted one of the AI-assisted memories of my ancestral home in the home's voice, based on my own memories, on Genea-Musings and Substack - in The Watchful House on 30th Street Remembers: "Fred's Backyard Patio Project."

9)  Wrote an AI-assisted short stories about my parents on Genea-Musings and Substack:

• Betty and Fred's Story: "Late Summer, Early Fall 1941"

10)  Added a number of the recent Google NotebookLM Videos to my YouTube channel at https://www.youtube.com/@RandySeaver.  

11)  My AncestryDNA now has 50,162 DNA matches (up 35 from 23 November) with 2,129 "close" matches today (up 0), with no new ThruLines.  Added Notes to 2 Matches, and added no new DNA match lines to RootsMagic.  MyHeritageDNA now has 13,935 DNA matches (up 22 from 23 November) for me.

12)  Searched for more records of ancestral families on Ancestry, FamilySearch and MyHeritage, downloaded record images to my digital file folders, and added research notes, events and sources to RootsMagic profiles.  My RootsMagic family tree now has 74,814 profiles (up 1 from last week)  and 147,922 source citations (up 0).  

13) Wrote 25 Genea-Musings blog posts last week (Sunday through Saturday), of which two were a press release. The most viewed post last week was ABC Biography of Severt Oliver Leland (1878-1940) and Amelia Anna Brocke (1884-1975) Family of San Francisco, California with over 271 views.  Genea-Musings had about 75,700 page views last week and over 523,000 views over the past month (lots of bots I fear). 

14)  Real life events:  Visited Linda several days at her memory care facility and we played Uno and walked around the facility and the patio. Went to the grocery store on Monday and Friday. Still reading  The Whisperer by John Grisham.  My Chargers beat the Raiders on Sunday so they are now 8-4.  San Diego State Aztecs lost their football game on Friday to New Mexico and are 9-3 on the season. Watched the three San Diego State basketball games and they lost to Michigan and Baylor, and beat Oregon, so they are now 3-3 on the season.

   

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The URL for this post is:  https://www.geneamusings.com/2025/12/randys-genealogy-pot-pourri-week-ending.html

Copyright (c) 2025, Randall J. Seaver

Please comment on this post on the website by clicking the URL above and then the "Comments" link at the bottom of each post. Share it on X, Facebook, or Pinterest using the icons below. Or contact me by email at randy.seaver@gmail.com.  Please note that all comments are moderated and may not appear immediately. 

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The Watchful House on 30th Street Remembers: "Randy's Flying Adventure"

 I  have many memories of the upstairs apartment in the two-story house at 2119 30th Street in San Diego where I grew up (from age 4 to 24).  

Did my house "watch" and "hear" and "feel" and "remember" my time living there?

I wrote a description of the layout of the 30th Street house, and the downstairs patio, as I recalled it.  I described each inhabitant (my father, my mother, me, my two brothers) and some of the daily events that happened in each room, and the patio, over my 20 years residing there, plus some memories of specific events. I created a PDF of that document and attached it to the AI tool to use.

1)  The first AI prompt that I used for the free AI tool Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 was for story ideas, along with a short description of each idea. Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 provided twenty wonderful story ideas - here is one of them (lightly edited for accuracy, consistency, and detail).

2)  My prompt asked "Please write a story by the house about 'Randy's Flying Adventure' in 1956" and added some detail about this event in my life.

(Visiting Bellingham, Wash. in 1956)

Here is the Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 story (lightly edited):

Randy’s Flying Adventure

A story from the house at 2119 30th Street, August 1956

When Butch Craver knocked on my front door in August 1956 with an invitation that would take Randy farther from home than he'd ever been, I felt Betty's immediate uncertainty ripple through my walls. A twelve-year-old boy flying to Washington state with neighbors in a small plane? The proposal seemed simultaneously thrilling and terrifying, and I watched the family dynamics play out as they considered this unprecedented adventure.

Randy was vibrant with excitement as Butch explained the trip. "My parents are both pilots! Mom flies in the Powder Puff Derby every year—that's a women's air race across the whole country! We'll fly up the coast, stay in different cities, go to Canada, see Vancouver!”

Randy said “Please, can I go?"

Fred and Betty exchanged one of those wordless parental communications I'd witnessed thousands of times—entire conversations conducted through glances, slight nods, raised eyebrows. Fred was intrigued; I could sense his appreciation for the opportunity this represented. Betty was calculating risks with the precision of a mother whose primary job was keeping her children safe.

"Let me talk to Mr. and Mrs. Craver," Betty said finally, and I felt Randy's heart sink, certain this was code for "absolutely not." But Betty surprised us all. After conversations with the Cravers that reassured her of their aviation credentials and safety consciousness, she and Fred agreed. Their studious eldest son, who spent so much time with his nose in books and his ears tuned to popular music and baseball games, would benefit from real-world adventure.

The days before departure transformed my walls into an echo chamber of preparation and anxiety. Randy packed and repacked his small suitcase, trying to imagine what one needed for flying in a small plane and visiting Canada. Betty made lists of emergency contacts and instructions that the Cravers accepted with patient understanding of maternal worry. Fred offered practical advice about being a good guest and representing the family well.

Stan was torn between jealousy and excitement for his brother. "You get to fly in a real airplane!" he'd say, followed immediately by "Why does Randy get to do everything first?" The age difference had never felt more significant to him than in that moment when his older brother was heading off on an adventure Stan could only imagine.

The morning of departure, I felt the nervous energy crackling through my rooms. Betty had been up since before dawn, making sure Randy had eaten a good breakfast, checking his suitcase one more time, reminding him to be polite and grateful and careful. Fred was calmer outwardly, but I sensed his own concerns beneath the composed exterior. Their twelve-year-old son was about to climb into a small aircraft and fly away from their protection.

"You'll be fine," Fred told Randy as they waited for the Cravers to arrive. "Just pay attention, learn things, and don't give them any trouble."

"I won't, Dad. I promise."

Betty hugged Randy longer than usual, and I felt her reluctance to release him into this adventure. "Be careful. Listen to the Cravers. And have fun," she said, the last part added as if reminding herself that this was supposed to be enjoyable, not just survived.

When the Cravers' car pulled away with Randy inside, Betty stood at my front window watching until they disappeared from view. Then she turned to Fred with tears threatening to spill. "He's only twelve."

"He'll be fine," Fred reassured her, but I noticed he put his arm around her shoulders, acknowledging that letting children grow up required its own kind of courage.

For the next week, my walls absorbed Betty's worry like a sponge absorbing water. She moved through her daily routines—cooking for Fred and the other two boys, cleaning, managing the household -- but part of her attention was always elsewhere, tracking Randy's progress in her mind. Sacramento the first night. Then Medford, Oregon. Then Bellingham, Washington. Then across the border to Vancouver, British Columbia.

Fred tried to distract her with practical observations. "It's good for him. He's seeing the country from the air. He's learning about geography firsthand. The Cravers are experienced pilots."

"I know," Betty would reply. "I know all that. But he's still my baby, and he's very far away."

Stan and Scott provided their own distractions, demanding the attention that Betty usually divided among three boys. Fred seemed to appreciate the reduced household chaos, working more efficiently at his office desk without Randy's constant questions or bicycle escapades. But I could sense he missed his eldest son too, the quiet way fathers miss their children without making the fuss mothers do.

What I didn't witness directly—but later absorbed through Randy's excited storytelling -- was the adventure itself unfolding hundreds of miles north of my walls.

The first airplane ride, climbing into a four-seat Cessna that seemed impossibly small to someone whose only previous flying experience had been imaginary. The unpressurized cabin that meant flying at 10,000 feet, low enough to watch the geography scroll by like a slowly turning map below. Randy's face pressed to the window, watching California give way to Oregon, Oregon give way to Washington, the landscape transforming with each hour of flight. Seeing towns, cities and farms from the air, the web of highways, lakes and rivers, miles of uninhabited fields and forests, and real mountain ranges (even dormant volcanos) – colorful geography not seen on maps.

The thunderstorm with a high wind in Medford that nearly tore the tied-down plane from its moorings -- a drama Randy would recount with the embellished enthusiasm of a twelve-year-old who'd survived genuine danger. The Cravers' calm competence in checking the aircraft afterward, teaching Randy without saying so that adventure sometimes includes managing risk rather than avoiding it.

Bellingham, Washington -- a place Randy had never heard of before this trip but would remember forever as a gateway to international travel with its' beautiful totem poles. The drive across the border into Canada, his first time leaving the United States, the subtle differences in accent and currency and culture that made foreign travel real rather than theoretical.

The Capilano Suspension Bridge swaying beneath his feet, the river far below, the mix of terror and exhilaration that comes from being twelve and doing something that feels genuinely daring. The friends and relatives the Cravers visited -- faces and names Randy would later struggle to recall, but at the time, exotic representatives of a wider world he was just beginning to understand existed.

The return journey brought its own adventures. The Oregon Vortex—one of those peculiar roadside attractions that seemed to defy physics and logic, exactly the kind of mystery that would appeal to a boy who spent his nights reading about obscure places and events. Randy would describe it with scientific skepticism mixed with the secret wish that maybe, just maybe, some inexplicable force really was at work there.

And then San Francisco, where Randy's adventure intersected with history. Landing just ahead of President Eisenhower's airplane, arriving for the 1956 Republican National Convention. Seeing the presidential motorcade pass by—Eisenhower himself visible in the car, a real president in real life, not just a name in news broadcasts or encyclopedia entries.

When the Cravers' car finally pulled up to my curb a week after departure, Betty was out my front door before Randy had fully emerged from the vehicle. She hugged him fiercely, checking him over as if expecting to find pieces missing, relief flooding through her so powerfully I could feel it in my foundation.

"I'm fine, Mom," Randy protested, embarrassed by the attention but secretly pleased by the evidence of how much he'd been missed.

Fred's greeting was more restrained but no less meaningful. A hand on Randy's shoulder, a nod of approval, questions about the trip that showed genuine interest in what his son had experienced and learned.

That evening, my dining room table became the stage for Randy's travelogue. He talked almost non-stop through dinner, words tumbling over each other in his eagerness to share everything. The Cessna's instrument panel and aircraft controls. The view of mountains -- Shasta, Lassen, Crater Lake, Hood, St. Helens, Rainier and Baker -- from the air, each one different and majestic. The thunderstorm and wind in Medford. The suspension bridge in Vancouver. The Oregon Vortex's mysterious properties. President Eisenhower's motorcade in San Francisco.

Stan listened with the rapt attention of someone mentally cataloguing every detail for his own future adventures. Scott, only nine months old, understood little but enjoyed his brother's animated enthusiasm. Fred asked technical questions about the aircraft and flying procedures, his own curiosity evident. Betty just watched Randy with the satisfaction of a mother whose child has returned safely from adventure, changed by the experience but still fundamentally her son.

The trip had accomplished exactly what Fred had hoped—it had given their studious boy who spent so much time with radios and books a taste of real-world exploration. Randy had flown in an airplane, crossed international borders, witnessed geography transform beneath him, and returned home with horizons permanently expanded.

In the days following his return, I could sense the change in Randy. He studied his maps differently now, having seen how they translated into actual terrain. He read the World Book Encyclopedia on my shelves about the places he had been, and wished they had had more time to explore. His questions about the world became more specific, more informed by direct experience rather than just reading.

The adventure also planted seeds that would grow throughout his life. His interest in flying, awakened by the Cravers' skilled piloting and the view from 10,000 feet. His fascination with geography, enhanced by watching the landscape scroll beneath the Cessna's wings. His confidence in venturing beyond familiar territory, proven by a week away from home in the company of adults who weren't his parents.

Betty never fully admitted how much she'd worried during Randy's absence, but I knew. I'd felt it in every moment of that week, the particular anxiety that comes from having your child far beyond the reach of your protection. Fred had been right that the trip was good for Randy, but Betty had also been right that twelve was very young to be so far from home. Both truths coexisted, as they so often did in parenting.

The Cravers had given Randy a remarkable gift -- not just a vacation but an initiation into the larger world that existed beyond 30th Street, beyond San Diego, beyond the familiar boundaries of his childhood. They'd shown him that adventure was accessible, that the world was vast and interesting, and that exploration could be both thrilling and safe when undertaken with competent guides.

Years later, when Randy would travel far more extensively, to DX conventions, for work meetings, and for pleasure, the foundation had been laid during that August week in 1956 when a twelve-year-old boy climbed into a small Cessna and discovered that the world was bigger and more wonderful than he'd imagined, even with all his encyclopedias and adventure books.

The trip also reinforced lessons about trust and community. The Cravers hadn't needed to invite Randy—they could have taken their vacation as a family of three. But they'd seen there son make friends with a studious boy, both of whom would benefit from adventure, and they'd generously included him in their plans. Fred and Betty had trusted neighbors with their precious son, a leap of faith that strengthened community bonds.

When Randy unpacked his suitcase and returned to his usual routines—homework at the bedroom desk, listening to the radio into the night, helping Fred with baseball preparations -- he was still the same boy but also somehow different. He'd crossed a threshold that couldn't be uncrossed, experienced things that couldn't be unexperienced, gained confidence that would serve him throughout his life.

And I, having absorbed Betty's week of maternal anxiety and witnessed Randy's triumphant return, understood something profound about what homes do for families. We're the safe base from which adventures launch and to which adventurers return. We hold the worry while family members are away, we celebrate their safe return, we listen to their stories and absorb their growth.

The flight north had taken Randy away from my walls for a week, but it had also reinforced that 2119 30th Street was home -- the place you left from and came back to, the foundation secure enough to support launching into the unknown, the shelter that made risk-taking possible because you knew safety waited at the end of the adventure.

Fred had been right to encourage the trip. Betty had been right to worry. Randy had been right to go. And I had been there to hold the family together during the absence, providing the stability that made the whole adventure possible -- the house on 30th Street that would always be home, no matter how far the flying took them.

=====================================

3) The Google NotebookLM Video Overview of this story is below:

4)  These events really happened over a period of time and the names and events mentioned are real.  However, the dialogue after the trip is historical fiction because I don't recall the details.

                        ==============================================

Links to my blog posts about using Artificial Intelligence are on my Randy's AI and Genealogy page. Links to AI information and articles about Artificial Intelligence in Genealogy by other genealogists are on my AI and Genealogy Compendium page.

Copyright (c) 2025, Randall J. Seaver

The URL for this post is:  https://www.geneamusings.com/2025/12/the-watchful-house-on-30th-street.html

Please comment on this post on the website by clicking the URL above and then the "Comments" link at the bottom of each post.  Share it on Twitter, Facebook, or Pinterest using the icons below.  Or contact me by email at randy.seaver@gmail.com.  Please note that all comments are moderated, and may not appear immediately.

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Amanuensis Monday -- 1692/3 Deed of Shubael and Hannah Seaver Selling Land in Roxbury, Massachusetts Bay Colony to John Davis

 This week's document for transcription is the 1692/3 land deed record for Shubael Seaver and his wife Hannah selling two parcels of land in Roxbury, Massachusetts Bay Colony to John Davis for 10 pounds.

[Suffolk County, Mass. Deeds 1669-1698:  pages 50-51, image 293 of 845]:

[Page 52, Image 294, continuing at the top of the left-hand page of image]

The transcription of this deed is (starting about 50% down the right-hand page of the image) with the assistance of FamilySearch Full-Text Search:

[Page 51, Image 293, starting about 50% down the right-hand page of image]

To all Christian People unto whom these presents shall or may                                      Seaver 

come Shobal Seaver of Roxbury in the Countie of Suffolke in their Majesties Province   to 

of the Massachusets Bay in New England Sendeth Greeting &c. Know yee that            Davis

I the said Shobal Seaver for and in consideration of the full and compleat sum of twelve 

pounds Current money to me in hand by John Davis sen'r of Roxbury yeoman at and 

before the ensealing and delivery of these presents well and truely paid, the receipt 

of which S'd Sum I do hereby acknowledge, and thereof and of every part thereof do fully 

acquit exonerate & Discharge him the s'd John Davis his heires Executors and Administrators 

for ever by these presents, do freely fully and absolutely acquit exonerate & discharge him

the s'd John Davis his heires Executors and Administrators for ever by these presents Have

given granted bargained sold aliened enfeoffed and confirmed, and by these presents 

do freely fully and absolutely give grant bargain sell alien enfeoffe confirme and deliver 

unto the s'd John Davis, his heirs and assignes for ever a certain parcel of woodland 

being the North East end of two lotts, in the second lotment of the last Division of Lands 

in s'd Roxbury , commonly called the Second Division nigh unto the Mansion house of the 

s'd John Davis Conteining Six Acres and a halfe be the same more or less, Together 

with which I the s'd Shoball Sever do also in like manner and on the consideration 

promised sell unto him the s'd John Davis another small parcell of land containing two

acres be the same more or less being the Southwest end of another Lott in the first 

Division of Lands in s'd Roxbury and lying by and adjoyning to the afores'd parcell of 

land the whole containing eight acres and a halfe and abutting upon and bounded by 

the land of the s'd John Davis in part and by the land by me the s'd Shobal Sever sold 

to Thomas Morey and now in the possession of John Watson in part on the South West 

by the land of Caleb Sever in part , and by the land belongng to the heires  of Joseph 

[Page 52, Image 294, continuing on the left-hand page of image]

Weld in part on the Northwest By the head lines running between the lands of

the first and second Division in s'd Roxbury in part, and by the land belonging to the 

heirs of Joseph Pepper late of S'd Roxbury deceased in part on the North East, and by 

the land of the heirs of s'd Joseph Pepper in part, and by the highway to Bear Marsh, 

in part on the South East, or however otherwise the same is, or may be bounded or re-

puted to be bounded: To have & to hold each and every of the s'd parcells of 

Land butted and bounded as above said and containing eight acres and a halfe

 be the same more or less, together with all the woodd stones, trees, Timber ^Water^ Mines

Minerals, members, profits, priviledges, accommodations and appurtenances unto each 

and every of the abovementioned parcels of land in any wise or by any meanes 

belonging. As also all the Estate right, title, interest, use, property, possession 

claim & demand whatsoever of me the S'd Shoball Sever of in and to the same, with 

the revertion and revertions remainder and remainders thereof; To be unto 

him the s'd John Davis his heires and Assignes, and to his and their only proper use 

profit and behoof forever: And I the said Shobal Sever for my selfe my heires 

Executors & Administrators do covenant promise grant and agree to and with the s'd 

John Davis his heires and assignes in manner following (that is to say) that at the time 

of this bargain and Sale and untill the ensealing and executing of these presents I the 

s'd Shoball Sever am the true and lawfull owner, and stand lawfully seized to my own 

proper use in a good perfect and absolute Estate of Inheritance in Fee Simple of 

in and to the Premisses abovementioned to be bargained and sold without any 

manner of Condition, revertion or limitation: And that I have (by and with consent 

of Hannah my wife) full power good right and lawfull Authority the Same to grant bar-

gain Sell and Dispose as above is expressed. And that the premisses and every part 

thereof now are and for ever hence forward Shall appear to be free and clear and 

^freely and^ Hereby acquitted exonerated and discharged of and from all manner of other and for- 

mer gifts, grants, bargaines, Sales, Leases, assignments, Mortgages, Wills, Entailes, join-

tures, Dowers, Judgements, Executions, seizures. forfeitures, titles, rents, charges, and 

from all other annoyances, incumbrances, and demands from any person whom-

soever (Except that before the conveyance of the premisses by the Deed unto the s'd

John Davis the liberty of a way was by me granted from the highway leading to Bear

marsh unto Thomas Morey his heires and assignes through the same, to a parcell of land 

by me Sold unto s'd Morey and by him conveyed to John Watson: And I the s'd Shoball Sever

do moreover covenant Promise Grant , and for my heires Executors and Administrato'rs

agree from time to time and at all times for ever hereafter to warrant and defend 

the within granted and bargained premisses and every part and parcell thereof w'th

the appurtenances, unto the s'd John Davis his heires and Assignes forever, against the 

just and lawfull claims and demands of all and every person and persons whomsoever. 

And Finally that at and upon the lawfull and reasonable request and Demand of 

the s'd John Davis his heires and assignes, and at his or their cost and charges, I will 

make do perform, acknowledge and execute any such other or further Act or Acts, device 

or devices in the law for the further confirmation and more sure makeing of the within 

bargained premisses and every part thereof with the appurtenances unto him the s'd 

John Davis his heires and Assignes for ever as by his or their Council learned in the 

law Shall be lawfully or reasonably devised advised or required: In acknowledgement 

and for confirmation of every and Singular which premissed Covenant Promisses 

grants and Agreements, I the s'd Shoball Sever unto these presents have set my hand 

and affixed my seal this fifteenth day of March in the yeare of o'r Lord one thousand 

Six hundred ninety two, three Annoqe Regni Gulielmi et Maria Anglia &c Regis et Regina 

quarto: And for the Manifestation of her relinquishm't of her power of thirds or other 

rights in the premisses and of her full and free consent to the above bargaine and Sale 

thereof Hannah the wife of the s'd Shobal Sever hath also hereunto put her hand and seal the 

day and year above mentioned                              Shubael Sever & a Seale 

Signed Sealed and delivered in the presence of        Hannah A Seaver 

Thomas Bannister , Benjamin Marron                 her mark & a Seale 

March 23. 1692/3   Shubael Seaver & Hannah his wife personally appearing before me the Subscriber

One of their Mas'ts Council & a Justice for their province of y'e Massachusets Bay in N.E. and  acknowledged this Instrumt to be their Act & Deed . Sam'l Sewall. Entered March 28'th 1693 Joseph Webb Cler. 

The source citation for this land record is:

"Massachusetts, Land Records, 1620-1986," Suffolk County, Massachusetts, deed of Shubael and Hannah Seaver to John Davis, executed 15 March 1692/3, recorded 28 March 1693; imaged, FamilySearch  (https://

www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:3QS7-L9ZS-BJH3?view=fullText : Nov 23, 2025), Image Group Number: 007442499, "Suffolk, Deeds 1669-1698," pages 51-52 (penned) (images 293-294 of 845); citing original records in Suffolk County Courthouse, imaged by FamilySearch.

This deed is for two parcels of land totaling eight and a half acres in Roxbury, Suffolk County, Massachusetts Bay Colony, owned by Shubael and Hannah Seaver. It was sold to John Davis, Senior for 12 pounds on 15 March 1692/3.

Shubael Seaver (1640-1730) and Hannah (Wilson) Seaver (1646-1721) are my 8th great-grandparents through their son Joseph Seaver (1672-1754) who married Mary Read in 1700.  

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Read other transcriptions of records of my relatives and ancestors at Amanuensis Monday Posts.

NOTE: Genea-blogger John Newmark (who writes the excellent TransylvanianDutch blog) started a Monday blog theme years ago called "Amanuensis Monday." John offers this definition for "amanuensis:"

"A person employed to write what another dictates or to copy what has been written by another."

The URL for this post is:  https://www.geneamusings.com/2025/12/amanuensis-monday-16923-deed-of-shubael.html

Copyright (c) 2025, Randall J. Seaver

Please comment on this post on the website by clicking the URL above and then the "Comments" link at the bottom of each post. Share your comments on Twitter, Facebook, or Pinterest using the icons below. Or contact me by email at randy.seaver@gmail.com.  Note that all comments are moderated, and may not appear online immediately.

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Best of the Genea-Blogs - Week of 23 to 29 November 2025

Scores of genealogy and family history bloggers write hundreds of posts every week about their research, their families, and their interests. I appreciate each one of them and their efforts.

My criteria for "Best of ..." are pretty simple - I pick posts that advance knowledge about genealogy and family history, address current genealogy issues, provide personal family history, are funny or are poignant. I don't list posts destined for most daily blog prompts or meme submissions (but I do include summaries of them), or my own posts.

Here are my picks for great reads from the genealogy blogs for this past week: 

*  Exploring Google NotebookLM’s New Report Options for Genealogy by Diane Henriks on Know Who Wears the Genes In Your Family.

*  208 Questions to Ask Family & Friends by Aryn Youngless on Genealogy By Aryn.

*  From Facts to Family Sagas;  The 5 Surprising Truths About Using AI for Genealogy by Carole McCulloch on Coach Carole Online.

*  Mitotree Sprouts 12,773 NEW Branches and Includes Ancient DNA by Roberta Estes on DNAeXplained - Genetic Genealogy.

*  Evaluating the Results of the FamilySearch AI Research Assistant and Handwriting Recognition, Ancestry.com, and FamilySearch.org, and Gemini 3 and Can Google Gemini 3 find Historical Newspaper Articles? by James Tanner on Genealogy's Star.

*  The Obstinate Case of Earl Douglas, Examined with Great Fatigue by Nate Douglas on No Parents Listed.

*  A Day in the Life Part 2 by Marcia Crawford Philbrick on Heartland Genealogy.

*  AI for Family History: Documenting My Grandfather with NotebookLM by Ellen Thompson-Jennings on Hound On the Hunt.

*  Collections, Archives and Altruistic Hoarding by Jane Hutcheon on Jane Hutcheon's Show and Tell.

*  My first experiments with AncestryDNA Custom Clusters by Jonny Perl on DNA Painter Blog.

*  Part 1: The Dream, the Deadline, and the Diocesan Detour by Lori Samuelson on GenealogyAtHeart.com.

*  How to Access Ancestry’s 1,391 Free Collections by Kenneth R. Marks on The Ancestor Hunt.

*  Stop using British Colonial America as a country name by Sean Lamb on Finding the Flock.

*  Where My Family History Finally Found Its Home by Carole McCulloch on Essential Genealogy.

*  The Night AI Stopped Lying About Your Ancestors: Inside the Lawrence-Little Breakthrough by Steve Little on AI Genealogy Insights.

Here are pick posts by other geneabloggers this week:

*  The Chiddicks Observer Edition 33 [24 November 2025] by Paul Chiddicks on Paul Chiddicks.

*  Friday’s Family History Finds [28 November 2025] by Linda Stufflebean on Empty Branches on the Family Tree.

*  This week’s crème de la crème -- November 29, 2025 by Gail Dever on Genealogy a la Carte.

*  GenStack [29 November 2025] by Robin Stewart on Genealogy Matters.

Readers are encouraged to go to the blogs listed above and read their articles, and add the blogs to your Favorites, Feedly, another RSS feed, or email if you like what you read. Please make a comment to them also - all bloggers appreciate feedback on what they write.

Did I miss a great genealogy blog post? Tell me! I currently am reading posts from over 900 genealogy bloggers using Feedly, but I still miss quite a few it seems.

Read past Best of the Genea-Blogs posts here.

             ==========================================================

Copyright (c) 2025, Randall J. Seaver

The URL for this post is: https://www.geneamusings.com/2025/11/best-of-genea-blogs-week-of-23-to-29.html

Please comment on this post on the website by clicking the URL above and then the "Comments" link at the bottom of each post. Share it on X, Facebook, or Pinterest using the icons below. Or contact me by email at randy.seaver@gmail.com.  Please note that all comments are moderated and may not appear immediately.

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Google NotebookLM Slide Deck Narrated Video for Robert and Elizabeth (Ballard) Seaver

 I posted Turning the Google NotebookLM Slide Show Into a Narrated Video earlier this week, with my process to create the slide deck into a Google Vids video that could be put on my YouTube channel and on my ABC Biographies of my ancestors.

Unfortunately, Google removed the Infographics and Slide Deck features from the FREE users of NotebookLM. If it comes back soon, I will continue to use it for free. Iif it doesn't return soon, I will pay the monthly fee to access it for some time period (reportedly about $20 per month) because I like those features.  

In the meantime, I have five Slide Decks on hand, so I will create and post the Narrated Videos one at a time. 

The ABC Biography for Robert and Elizabeth (Ballard) Seaver (based on my genealogical research) is in ABC Biography of Robert Seaver (1608-1683) and Elizabeth (Ballard) Seaver (1616-1657) of Massachusetts Bay Colony.

Here is the Slide Deck made into a narrated video using Google Vids (with extra slides before and after the Slide Deck slides) for the Robert and Elizabeth (Ballard) Seaver biography: 

I really like how this worked out.  

I need to add the Infographic (when I can make one) and this slide presentation to the ABC Biography later on.  I will add the Slide Deck Video to my YouTube Channel (https://www.youtube.com/@RandySeaver) as I create them.

I have three more slide deck narrated videos to do and will post them as I do them. And then the challenge is to do many more since I like them so much!

I hope that the Video Overview, the Infographic and the Slide Deck Narrated Videos for my ancestors will interest my brothers, children, grandchildren and cousins. Heretofore, they haven't been interested in my blog posts, whether genealogical sketches, family stories, or ABC biographies.

==============================================

Links to my blog posts about using Artificial Intelligence are on my Randy's AI and Genealogy page. Links to AI information and articles about Artificial Intelligence in Genealogy by other genealogists are on my AI and Genealogy Compendium page.

Copyright (c) 2025, Randall J. Seaver

The URL for this post is:  https://www.geneamusings.com/2025/11/google-notebooklm-slide-deck-narrated.html

Please comment on this post on the website by clicking the URL above and then the "Comments" link at the bottom of each post. Share it on Twitter, Facebook, or Pinterest using the icons below. Or contact me by email at randy.seaver@gmail.com. Please note that all comments are moderated, and may not appear immediately.

Subscribe to receive a free daily email from Genea-Musings using www.Blogtrottr.com.

Betty and Fred's Story: "Late Summer, Early Fall 1941"

 The AI-assisted ABC Biography of my mother, Betty Virginia (Carringer) Seaver, is in ABC Biography of #3 Betty Virginia (Carringer) Seaver (1919-2002) of San Diego, California. I wrote Betty's Story: The First-Year Art Teacher about the start of her teaching career.

The AI-assisted ABC Biography of my father, Frederick Walton Seaver, is in ABC Biography of #2 Frederick Walton Seaver Jr. (1911-1983) of Massachusetts and San Diego, California.  I wrote Fred's Story: The Three-Day Cross-Country Escape  and Fred's Story: "I Need A Girl" about him coming to San Diego, and then wanting for a girlfriend.

Then I wrote:

•  Betty's Story: "The Dinner That Changed Everything" where Betty met Fred at Betty's student's home and their lives were changed.  
• Betty and Fred's Story: "The First Date" where they got to know each other better.
• Betty and Fred's Story: "New Beginnings" where the romance blossoms a bit.
• 

                         (AI Gemini colorized images - Betty Carringer and Fred Seaver in 1941) 

1)  Based on the biographies and the earlier stories, I asked Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 to tell another story - what happened next (I offered some suggestions!)?  Here is the next story (edited for more detail and accuracy):

Betty and Fred’s Story: 

 Late Summer, Early Fall 1941

August 1941 - Tijuana

Betty had never been to Tijuana, though it was only fifteen miles south of San Diego. It just wasn't something her family did -- Lyle and Emily weren't the type to cross the border for entertainment.

But when Fred suggested they go to the Agua Caliente racetrack for an afternoon of horse racing on a Saturday in mid-August, Betty surprised herself by saying yes.

"Are you sure?" Fred asked. "I don't want to pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with."

"I'm sure. I'm twenty-two years old. I teach junior high school. I think I can handle an afternoon in Tijuana."

Still, as they drove south toward the border on a bright Saturday afternoon, Betty felt a flutter of nervousness. This felt adventurous, slightly rebellious -- crossing into another country for gambling and entertainment. She'd worn a lightweight yellow dress and a sun hat, trying to look sophisticated and worldly even though she felt anything but.

The border crossing was surprisingly easy -- just a quick check of their identification and a friendly wave from the Mexican customs officer. Suddenly they were in Tijuana, and the contrast with San Diego was stark. Everything was more colorful, more chaotic, more alive in a different way. Street vendors called out to them, offering everything from blankets to tamales. Buildings were painted in vibrant pinks and blues and yellows. The air smelled of unfamiliar spices and exhaust and something Betty couldn't quite identify.

"Stay close," Fred said, taking her hand. "It can be overwhelming if you're not used to it."

The drive to Agua Caliente took them through the city and into the hills beyond. The resort complex appeared like a mirage -- elegant Spanish Colonial buildings, manicured gardens, and the racetrack stretching out with its oval of dirt and grandstands rising on either side.

The Agua Caliente resort was glamorous in a slightly faded way, a reminder of the Prohibition era when Americans had flocked across the border for legal drinking and gambling. The racetrack was still operating, drawing crowds for weekend races.

Fred bought them seats in the grandstand, and they settled in with programs and lemonade. Betty studied the program, trying to make sense of the information about each horse -- their names, their jockeys, their odds.

"I don't really understand any of this," Betty admitted as the first horses were led to the starting gate.

"It's simple, really. You pick a horse, place a bet, and hope your horse wins. Some people study the statistics—breeding, past performance, track conditions. Other people just pick based on which name they like best."

"That doesn't seem very scientific."

"It's not. That's part of the fun."

Fred taught her how to read the odds, how the betting worked, the difference between win, place, and show. For the first race, Betty studied the program seriously before announcing, "I'll bet on number seven. Starlight Runner."

"Why seven?"

"Because seven is a lucky number. And I like the name."

"That's not much of a strategy, Betty."

"It's my strategy."

Fred placed two-dollar bets for both of them -- his on the favorite based on odds, hers on Starlight Runner. They watched as the horses loaded into the starting gate, the tension building as the announcer's voice crackled over the loudspeakers in English and Spanish.

The bell rang, the gates flew open, and the horses burst forward in a thunder of hooves. Betty found herself on her feet, yelling "Come on, seven! Come on, Starlight!" along with everyone else in the grandstand.

Starlight Runner came in fourth. Betty's two dollars were gone. Fred's horse won, and he collected his modest winnings with a grin.

"Beginner's luck didn't work for you, huh?"

"There's nothing lucky about picking based on the name," Betty conceded. "Next race, I'm studying the statistics."

But when the second race came around, Betty ended up betting on a horse named Morning Glory because "it's such a pretty name," and Fred just laughed and shook his head.

Between races, they walked around the complex. Fred bought Betty a cold beer, which she'd never had before.

"I don't know," she said, eyeing it skeptically. "My parents would be scandalized."

"Your parents don't need to know everything you do. Live dangerously, Betty Carringer."

She took a tentative sip and made a face. "It's bitter."

"It's an acquired taste."

"I don't think I want to acquire it." But she gamely took another sip, and by the time they'd watched another race, she'd finished half the bottle and decided it wasn't so bad after all. The cold liquid felt good in the heat, and there was something liberating about doing something her parents would definitely not approve of.

They stayed for six races total. Betty never won a bet, but she didn't care—she was having too much fun watching the horses thunder past, feeling the excitement of the crowd, enjoying the shared experience of trying something new.

As they walked back to the car in the late afternoon, Fred put his arm around her shoulders. "So? What did you think of your first trip to Mexico?"

"I think..." Betty paused, considering. "I think I've lived a very sheltered life."

"Is that bad?"

"No, not bad. Just... I've been in such a small world. Home, school, church, Balboa Park. The same streets, the same people. You're showing me there's more out there."

"You're showing me more too," Fred said. "I never would have spent an entire afternoon at the Natural History Museum looking at gem collections if it weren't for you."

"Those are minerals, Fred. There's a difference." But she was smiling.

On the drive back, Betty was quiet, watching the border approach. They crossed back into the United States, into familiar San Diego, but somehow everything looked slightly different now. She'd crossed an international border. She'd gambled at a racetrack. She'd drunk beer in the afternoon sun. They were small adventures, perhaps, but they represented something bigger -- a willingness to step outside her comfort zone, to experience new things.

"No regrets?" Fred asked, glancing over at her.

"No regrets. When can we come back?"

Fred laughed and reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. This was becoming their natural position -- driving through San Diego with their hands linked, talking or silent, just being together.

At her door that evening, Fred kissed her goodnight -- a longer kiss than usual, both of them feeling the heat that had been building between them all day in the sunshine and excitement of their adventure.

"Thank you for today," Betty whispered against his lips.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to cross the border with me. For trying new things."

"With you, I want to try everything."

The words hung in the air between them, loaded with meaning. Fred's arms tightened around her, and they stood on the porch in the gathering dusk, holding each other, neither wanting to let go.

Finally, reluctantly, Fred pulled back. "I should let you go. School starts soon, right?"

"Next week. Back to reality."

"Reality isn't so bad when you're in it with me."

---

September 1941 - The Padres Game

The new school year started on the Tuesday after Labor Day, and Betty threw herself back into teaching with renewed energy. She had a new group of eighth-graders, a new classroom (she'd been moved to Room 18, with better light for art projects), and a determination to be even better than she'd been her first year.

But she also had Fred now, which made everything different. On her first day back, she found a note tucked into her lunch bag -- her mother must have put it there when Betty wasn't looking. It read: "Good luck on your first day back. You're going to be amazing. Love, Fred."

Betty kept that note in her desk drawer and looked at it between classes when eighth-graders were being particularly challenging.

They settled into a new rhythm -- Wednesday evenings were still their night during the week, but now Betty had papers to grade and lessons to plan, so Fred would often sit with her at the Carringer dining table, reading the newspaper or one of the novels Betty had given him, just keeping her company while she worked.

"You don't have to stay," Betty told him one Wednesday evening as she marked up a stack of essays. "This is boring for you."

"It's not boring. I like watching you work. You get this little crease between your eyebrows when you're concentrating."

"That's not attractive."

"It's adorable."

On the third Saturday of September, Fred announced they were going to a Padres game at Lane Field.

"I've never been to a baseball game," Betty admitted.

"Then we're fixing that. Every good San Diegan should see their Padres play at least once."

Lane Field sat right on the waterfront, a modest wooden ballpark where the Pacific Coast League team played to crowds of die-hard fans. Fred bought them seats behind first base—not the cheapest seats, but not the most expensive either, a compromise between his desire to give Betty a good experience and his need to stick to his budget.

It was a perfect September afternoon, warm but not hot, with a breeze coming off the bay. They settled into their seats with peanuts and Cracker Jacks, and Betty looked around with wide eyes at the green field, the players warming up, the crowd gathering.

"I don't really understand baseball," Betty admitted.

"It's simple. You hit the ball, you run to the bases, you try to score runs. The team with the most runs wins."

"But what's a strike? And a ball? And why do they keep changing pitchers?"

Fred laughed and spent the first three innings explaining the rules while Betty asked increasingly detailed questions. She had a teacher's mind -- she wanted to understand not just what was happening but why, the logic underlying the game's structure.

"So the pitcher is trying to throw the ball so the batter can't hit it, but he has to throw it in a specific area or it doesn't count?"

"Exactly. The strike zone."

"And if the batter hits it, he runs to first base, but if someone catches the ball before it touches the ground, he's out?"

"Right."

"But if it goes over the fence, that's a home run, and he gets to run all the bases?"

"Now you're getting it."

By the fourth inning, Betty was keeping score in the margin of her program, using a system of symbols Fred had taught her. By the seventh inning, when a close play at second base resulted in the runner being called out, Betty was on her feet.

"He was safe! That was a terrible call! The second baseman didn't even tag him!"

Fred stared at her, delighted. "What happened to the woman who didn't understand baseball an hour ago?"

"I understand it now. And that umpire is blind."

The man sitting next to them, a regular by the look of his well-worn Padres cap, grinned at Fred. "You've got a keeper there, son. A woman who gets into the game is worth her weight in gold."

The Padres won 6-4, partly due to a spectacular home run in the eighth inning that sent the ball sailing over the right-field fence and bounced to the railroad tracks. Betty cheered so loudly that Fred worried she might lose her voice.

As they left the ballpark, walking along the waterfront in the golden late-afternoon light, Betty was already planning their return.

"When's the next home game? We should come back. Can we sit in different seats? I want to see what it looks like from behind home plate."

"I've created a monster," Fred said, but he was grinning.

They walked past the fishing boats and Navy ships, watching the sun begin its descent toward the horizon. Fred bought them ice cream cones from a vendor, and they found a bench overlooking the bay.

"You know what I love about you?" Fred said suddenly.

"What?"

"You throw yourself into things completely. You didn't just watch the game -- you learned it, understood it, became part of it. That's how you approach everything. Teaching. Art. Life. Us."

Betty leaned her head on his shoulder. "I don't know any other way to be."

"Don't ever change."

They sat there until the sun had fully set and the lights of the city began twinkling on around them. Betty thought about how different her life was from a year ago -- last September, she'd been a brand-new teacher, nervous and uncertain, living entirely in her parents' world. Now she had Fred, had these adventures, had this whole expanding sense of who she could be.

"What are you thinking about?" Fred asked.

"About how happy I am. About how much my life has changed since I met you."

"Changed for the better, I hope."

"For the better," Betty confirmed. "Definitely for the better."

---

October 15, 1941 - Fred's Birthday

Betty had been planning Fred's birthday for weeks, ever since he'd made such a fuss over hers in July. She wanted to do something special, something that would show him how much he meant to her.

The challenge was that Fred's thirtieth birthday fell on a Wednesday -- a school night for Betty. But she was determined to make it work.

She'd arranged everything carefully. Her mother had helped her make Fred's favorite meal -- pot roast with potatoes and carrots, the same dish he'd ordered at Rudford's on their first date. She'd baked a chocolate cake from scratch, decorating it with "Happy 30th Birthday Fred" in careful white icing. And she'd bought him a present that had taken a good chunk of her teacher's salary -- a beautiful leather-bound journal with his initials embossed on the cover.

Fred arrived at the Carringer house at six o'clock, as planned. Betty had told him just to come for dinner, nothing fancy, but when he walked in, the dining room table was set with Emily's good china and there were candles lit.

"Surprise!" Betty said, appearing from the kitchen. "Happy birthday!"

Fred's face lit up. "Betty, you didn't have to -- "

"Yes, I did. You made my birthday magical. I wanted to do the same for you."

Lyle and Emily joined them for dinner, along with Georgianna, and the meal was festive and warm. They talked about Fred's work at Rohr -- how the company was expanding rapidly, adding new shifts to keep up with military contracts. They talked about Betty's school year -- her challenging students, her successes, her frustrations. They talked about the war news, which grew more ominous each week.

"Roosevelt's going to have to do something soon," Lyle said. "We can't just sit by while Hitler conquers Europe and Japan takes over Asia."

"I know," Fred said quietly. "Everyone at Rohr knows it's coming. We're already basically on a war footing, even if it's not official yet."

Betty reached under the table and squeezed his hand. They both knew what war would mean -- disruption, uncertainty, possible separation. But tonight was for celebrating, not worrying.

After dinner, Betty brought out the cake, candles blazing. Everyone sang "Happy Birthday," and Fred made a wish before blowing out all thirty candles in one breath.

"What did you wish for?" Betty asked.

"If I tell you, it won't come true."

"That's superstitious nonsense."

"Maybe. But I'm not taking chances."

Later, after cake and coffee, Fred opened Betty's present. His eyes widened when he saw the journal.

"Betty, this is beautiful. And expensive."

"I wanted you to have something nice. You're always reading, always thinking. I thought maybe you'd like to write down your thoughts."

Fred ran his hand over the leather cover, touched by the gift. "I love it. Thank you."

"Look inside the front cover," Betty said shyly.

Fred opened the journal and found Betty's neat handwriting on the first page: "To Fred, on your 30th birthday. For recording adventures, ideas, dreams, and everything in between. With all my love, Betty. October 15, 1941."

He looked up at her, his eyes suspiciously bright. "I'll treasure this. I promise."

After dessert, as the evening was winding down, Fred asked Betty if she'd like to take a walk. They bundled into light jackets -- October evenings in San Diego could be cool -- and headed out into the neighborhood.

They walked the familiar streets of Burlingame, past houses where lights glowed in windows, past the fire station, past the drugstore on the corner. Fred was quiet, thoughtful, and Betty let him be, content just to walk beside him with their hands linked.

Finally, Fred spoke. "Thirty years old. It feels like a milestone."

"Does it feel different? Being thirty?"

"A little. When I was twenty, I thought I'd have everything figured out by thirty. Career, family, purpose. Instead, I'm still trying to figure out who I am and what I'm doing."

"You're a material control man at a growing company, helping build equipment for national defense. That seems pretty purposeful to me."

"I suppose. But there's so much uncertainty right now. The war coming -- and it is coming, Betty, we both know it. What happens then? Do I stay at Rohr? Do I enlist? What if -- " He stopped walking and turned to face her. "What if something happens to me before I've done the things I want to do?"

"Like what?"

"Like marry you."

Betty's breath caught. They'd talked around the subject, hinted at a future together, but Fred had never been this direct before.

"I know we've only known each other seven months," Fred continued. "I know that's not very long. But Betty, I know what I want. I want you. I want to build a life with you. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. I want children with you. I want to grow old with you."

"Fred -- "

"I'm not proposing. Not yet. I need to do it properly, need to save up for a ring, need to talk to your father officially. But I wanted you to know. On my thirtieth birthday, I wanted you to know that you're what I want for the next thirty years and the thirty after that."

Betty felt tears streaming down her face. "I want that too. All of it. With you."

Fred pulled her close, and they stood there on the sidewalk, holding each other under the streetlight, two people in love in a world teetering on the edge of war.

"I'm going to marry you, Betty Carringer," Fred whispered into her hair. "Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next month. But soon. As soon as we can make it happen."

"I'll be waiting," Betty whispered back.

They walked back to Fern Street slowly, reluctant to end the evening. At her door, Fred kissed her -- deeply, passionately, with all the emotion of the evening and the promise of the future.

"Best birthday present you could have given me," he said when they finally pulled apart.

"You didn't even open it yet."

"Yes, I did. You told me you want to marry me. That's the best present imaginable."

After Fred left, Betty went inside to find her mother waiting in the living room.

"He's serious about you," Emily said. It wasn't a question.

"He is. And I'm serious about him."

"Your father and I approve, you know. He's a good man. Steady. Kind. He'll take care of you."

"I'll take care of him too," Betty said. "That's how it should work."

Emily smiled. "Yes. That's exactly how it should work."

Betty walked down the hall to her room, her heart full. Fred was thirty years old today. She was twenty-two. They were young, but not too young. They knew what they wanted. They'd found each other in this uncertain time, and whatever was coming -- war, separation, challenges -- they'd face it together.

She got ready for bed, then wondered if the light was still on in Fred's apartment five blocks away. Was he writing in his new journal? Recording the thoughts and feelings of his thirtieth birthday?

Betty hoped he was writing about her, about them, about the future they were planning. Because she was already imagining it -- a wedding, a home, children, a life built together step by step, day by day.

Outside her window, October crickets sang their end-of-season song. The air smelled of autumn, even in San Diego where autumn was subtle. Everything was changing, the world was shifting, but here on Fern Street, Betty Carringer went to sleep thinking about Fred Seaver and the promise they'd made to each other on his thirtieth birthday.

Soon, he'd said. They'd get married soon.

And Betty believed him.

---

To be continued...

==========================================

2) Here is the Google NotebookLM Video Overview about Fred and Betty's activities in the summer and early fall of 1941 in San Diego:

3)  This story is historical fiction based on real people -- my parents -- and a real place. I don't know the real story of these events -- but this is how it might have been. Claude is such a good story writer!  I added some details and corrected some errors in Claude's initial version.

Stay tuned for the next episode in this family story.

                           ==============================================

Links to my blog posts about using Artificial Intelligence are on my Randy's AI and Genealogy page. Links to AI information and articles about Artificial Intelligence in Genealogy by other genealogists are on my AI and Genealogy Compendium page.

Copyright (c) 2025, Randall J. Seaver

The URL for this post is:  https://www.geneamusings.com/2025/11/betty-and-freds-story-late-summer-early.html

Please comment on this post on the website by clicking the URL above and then the "Comments" link at the bottom of each post.  Share it on Twitter, Facebook, or Pinterest using the icons below.  Or contact me by email at randy.seaver@gmail.com.  Please note that all comments are moderated, and may not appear immediately.

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