Friday, October 31, 2025

Added and Updated Ancestry.com Record Collections - Week of 25 to 31 October 2025

  The following genealogy record collections were added to the Ancestry.com Card Catalog page by Date Updated during the period from 25 to 31 October 2025:

The ADDED and Updated collections include:
  • Doncaster, Yorkshire, England, Church of England Deaths and Burials, 1813-2000; 183,231 indexed records with record images, ADDED 10/29/2025. This collection includes Church of England parish registers and bishops’ transcripts of deaths and burials between 1813 and 2000 from the historical county of Doncaster, Yorkshire, England.
  • Vendée, France, Census, 1789-1911; 3,449,747 indexed records with record images, ADDED   10/29/2025. This collection contains census records from Vendée, France, between the years of 1789 and 1911. Most records are in French, but some are in Latin.
  • Tarn, France, Censuses, 1790-1921; 2,422,398 indexed records with record images, ADDED   10/29/2025. This collection contains census records from Tarn, France, between the years of 1790 and 1921.
  • Ariège, Foix, France, Census, 1810-1911; 1,157,759 indexed records without record images,   ADDED 10/29/2025. This collection contains census records from Ariège, Foix, France, from 1810 to 1911. Most records are in French, but some are in Latin.
  • Doncaster, Yorkshire, England, Church of England Marriages, 1754-1950; 652,093 indexed records with record images, ADDED 10/29/2025. This collection includes Church of England parish registers of marriages between 1754 and 1950 from the city of Doncaster, Yorkshire, England.
  • Doncaster, Yorkshire, England, Church of England Births and Baptisms, 1813-1925; 949,940 indexed records with record images, ADDED 10/29/2025. This collection includes Church of England parish registers of births and baptisms between 1813 and 1920 from the city of Doncaster, Yorkshire, England.
  • Vaucluse, France Births, Marriages and Deaths, 1400-1991; 14,089,838 indexed records with record images, ADDED 10/29/2025. This collection contains civil registries of births, marriages, and deaths between 1400 and 1991 from Vaucluse, France. Most records are in French, but some records may be in German or Latin.
  • Doncaster and Surrounding Area, Yorkshire, England, Church of England Baptisms, Marriages and Burials, 1558-1812; 737,235 indexed records with record images, ADDED    10/29/2025. This collection includes Church of England parish registers of baptisms, marriages, and burials between 1558 and 1812 from the city of Doncaster, Yorkshire, England.
  • Germany, Find a Grave® Index, 1600s-Current; 4,337,400 indexed records without record images, Updated 10/28/2025. This database contains an index to cemetery and burial details posted on Find a Grave® from Germany. The records are dated between the 1600s and the present. 
  • Norway, Find a Grave® Index, 1800s-Current; 240,879 indexed records without record images, Updated 10/28/2025. This database contains an index to cemetery and burial details posted on Find a Grave® from Norway. The records are dated between the 1800s and the present. 
  • Sweden, Find a Grave® Index, 1800s-Current; 1,159,419 indexed records without record images, Updated 10/28/2025. This database contains an index to cemetery and burial details posted on Find a Grave® from Sweden. The records are dated between the 1800s and the present. 
  • Global, Find a Grave® Index for Burials at Sea and other Select Burial Locations, 1300s-Current; 22,261,342 indexed records without record images, Updated 10/28/2025. This database contains an index to cemetery and burial details posted on Find a Grave® for burials at sea and other select burial locations. 
  • Italy, Find a Grave® Index, 1800s-Current; 428,206 indexed records without record images, Updated 10/28/2025. This database contains an index to cemetery and burial details posted on Find a Grave® from Italy. The records are dated between the 1800s and the present. 
  • Australia and New Zealand, Find a Grave® Index, 1800s-Current; 12,383,977 indexed records without record images, Updated 10/28/2025. This database contains an index to cemetery and burial details posted on Find a Grave® from Australia and New Zealand. The records are dated between the 1800s and the present.
  • Mexico, Find a Grave® Index, 1800s-Current; 90,789 indexed records without record images, Updated 10/28/2025. This database contains an index to cemetery and burial details posted on Find a Grave® from Mexico. The records are dated between the 1800s and the present. 
  • Brazil, Find a Grave® Index, 1800s-Current; 207,480 indexed records without record images, Updated 10/28/2025. This database contains an index to cemetery and burial details posted on Find a Grave® from Brazil. The records are dated between the 1800s and the present. 
  • Canada, Find a Grave® Index, 1600s-Current; 11,839,235 indexed records without record images, Updated 10/28/2025. This database contains an index to cemetery and burial details posted on Find a Grave® from Canada. The records are dated between the 1600s and the present. 
  • Massachusetts, U.S., Church Records, 1632-1830; 62.027 indexed records with record images, ADDED 10/27/2025. This collection contains church records from 1632 to 1830 from five towns in Massachusetts. The records in the collection provide details about births, baptisms, marriages, deaths, and burials.
  • Tipperary, Ireland, Coroners' Inquests Index, 1832-1836; 125 indexed records without record images, ADDED 10/27/2025. This collection includes an index of information from the records of coroners’ inquests in County Tipperary, Ireland, between 1832 and 1836. 

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The complete Ancestry.com Card Catalog is at https://search.ancestry.com/search/CardCatalog.aspx.  

By my count, there are 1NEW record collections ADDED this past week, per the list above.  There are now 33,884 collections available as of 31 October, an INCREASE of 10 from last week.  

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Disclosure: I pay for an All-Access subscription from Ancestry.com. In past years, Ancestry.com  provided a complimentary All Access subscription, an autosomal DNA test, material considerations for travel expenses to meetings, and hosted events and meals that I attended in Salt Lake City.

The URL for this post is:  https://www.geneamusings.com/2025/10/added-and-updated-ancestrycom-record_0597100711.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 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 so they may not appear immediately.

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Betty's Story: The Elephant Ride

One piece of memorabilia found in the treasure box of memories from my mother's collection is a page from the ZooNooz magazine published by the San Diego Zoo with this photograph:

(Lyle and Betty Carringer on Elephant at San Diego Zoo in 1924,

 image colorized by AI Google Gemini)

I asked Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 to write a story about Betty's ride on the elephant, and provided some detail of the photograph - here it is:

The Elephant Ride at the San Diego Zoo

Betty Virginia Carringer was four years old when her father took her to ride an elephant on New Year’s Day, though she wouldn't remember making the decision to go. What she would remember, in fragments that grew sharper with each retelling over the years, was the size of the creature—bigger than anything she'd ever imagined, bigger than their Model T Ford, bigger than the house on Fern Street, a mountain of gray wrinkled skin that moved and breathed and smelled like dust and hay and something wild.

It was 1924, and the San Diego Zoo was still finding its identity. What had begun as a ragtag collection of animals left over from the 1915-1916 Panama-California Exposition was slowly transforming into something more ambitious. Dr. Harry Wegeforth, the zoo's founder, had big dreams—he wanted to create not just a menagerie but a world-class zoological park. The elephant rides were part of that vision, a way to bring people close to these magnificent creatures, to create memories that would bind San Diego families to their zoo.

On this particular morning, Lyle Carringer had announced at breakfast that they were going to the zoo. Emily, Betty's mother, had dressed her daughter in a white cotton dress with a sailor collar and white shoes with little straps. Betty's light brown hair was cut in a bob, the fashionable style for little girls, and Emily had put a white cap on her head to keep it from her face.

"We're going to ride an elephant, Betty-bug," Lyle had said, using his pet name for his only child. "How does that sound?"

Betty hadn't known what to say. She'd seen pictures of elephants in her picture books, but pictures were flat and safe. They didn't prepare you for the reality.

The Carringer family—Lyle, Emily, Betty, and Grandmother Georgianna, who at fifty-four was still spry enough for an outing – drove from their home on Fern Street through the neighborhood toward the park. The day was pleasant but not cold, with the kind of crystalline blue sky that made San Diego famous. They could hear the carillon from the California Tower before they saw it, the bells marking the hour with a cascade of notes that rolled across the canyons.

Balboa Park was their backyard, their playground, their cultural center. The park still bore the architectural legacy of the 1915 Exposition -- the ornate Spanish Colonial Revival buildings, the grand plazas, the Cabrillo Bridge that seemed to float above the canyon. And tucked into the northern reaches of the park, still expanding year by year, was the zoo.

They paid their admission—a quarter for adults, nothing for children -- and entered through the gates. The zoo in 1924 was a far cry from what it would become. There were cages and enclosures, pathways that were still being developed, areas that were little more than dirt and hope. But there were also wonders: lions that roared at dawn, monkeys that chattered and swung through real trees, birds in colors Betty had never seen outside of her mother's garden.

And elephants.

The elephant ride was one of the zoo's main attractions, a way to fund the growing menagerie while giving visitors an experience they'd never forget. A circular track had been laid out near the elephants' enclosure, and a large wooden carrier—called a howdah, though none of the Carringers knew that word -- had been constructed to sit atop the elephant's broad back.

When they reached the elephant ride area, Betty stopped walking. Her small hand tightened around her father's larger one.

The elephant was massive. It stood near the track, swaying slightly from side to side, its trunk swinging in a lazy pendulum. The trainer, a lean man in khaki clothes and a wide-brimmed hat, stood beside the creature holding a long pole with a hook at the end. Other families were already gathering, excited children bouncing on their toes, mothers fussing with cameras.

"That's Joy," the trainer announced to the growing crowd. "She's an Asian elephant, about fifteen years old, and she's gentle as a lamb. Who wants to ride?"

Hands shot up. Children shouted. Betty pressed herself against her father's leg.

Lyle crouched down to her level, his face kind and patient. "Scared, Betty-bug?"

Betty nodded, unable to take her eyes off the elephant. Joy's ears—huge, floppy things—flicked back and forth, shooing away flies. Her eyes, small relative to her massive head, seemed impossibly knowing.

"Would you like to go with Papa?" Lyle asked. "I won't let anything happen to you. And think what a story you'll have to tell!"

Betty considered this. Her father had never let her down. When she'd been afraid of the dark, he'd sat with her until she fell asleep. When she'd fallen and skinned her knee, he'd kissed it better. If Papa said it was safe, it probably was.

"Okay," she whispered.

The trainer was explaining how it would work. Eight people could ride at once in the howdah—a wooden platform with high sides and a bench that ran down the middle. There was a small ladder propped against Joy's side, and riders would climb up one at a time.

"Children with their parents go first," the trainer called. "Then we'll fill in the rest."

Lyle picked Betty up and carried her to the ladder. Up close, Joy was even more enormous. Betty could smell her now—a thick, earthy scent that was entirely alien. The elephant's skin was rough and creased, like leather that had been crumpled and smoothed out a thousand times. Betty could see individual hairs poking out from the gray hide.

"Hello, Jo y," Lyle said cheerfully, as if greeting a neighbor. "We're going to ride with you today. This is my daughter, Betty. She's a little nervous, but I told her you're very nice."

Joy's trunk snaked around toward them, the tip hovering near Betty's face. Betty flinched, but Lyle held steady.

"She's just saying hello," Lyle explained. "See? She's curious about you."

The trunk—thick as a man's thigh, covered in wrinkles and ending in what looked almost like fingers—hovered for a moment, then withdrew. Betty could feel the warm breath from Joy's trunk, could see the moisture glistening at the tip.

The trainer positioned the ladder. "Up you go, sir. Watch your step. That's it. Now climb right up and over the side into the howdah. Take the front position—best seat in the house."

Lyle adjusted his grip on Betty and began climbing. The ladder wobbled slightly with their combined weight, and Betty wrapped her arms tightly around her father's neck. One step, two steps, three steps—and suddenly they were level with the elephant's back, level with the wooden carrier that rose another two feet above Joy's spine.

"Over we go," Lyle said, and then they were climbing over the high edge of the howdah and into the interior.

The howdah was larger than it had looked from the ground, but it was also crowded. The wooden sides rose to about waist-height on an adult, higher than that on Betty. There was a low bench that ran down the middle, padded with thin cushions. Lyle settled them at the very front, facing sideways, and arranged Betty so she sat with her back against his back, both of them facing opposite directions and perpendicular to the direction the elephant would walk.

Other riders were climbing aboard now—a young couple who looked like newlyweds, giggling and holding hands; a family with two older boys who jostled for position; and several teenage boys. They filled the howdah, taking positions along the benches, everyone talking at once, excited and nervous and thrilled.

Betty tried to see over the edge of the howdah, but the wooden sides were too high for her to see much. She could see the sky, could see the trees and buildings in the distance, but she couldn't see down to the elephant beneath them. It was like being in a tall wooden box that swayed and moved.

Lyle, being taller, could lean sideways slightly and look over the edge. He reached out and touched the rough gray skin of Jo y's head, just behind the elephant's ear.

"Feel how thick her skin is, Betty. It's like armor. And she's so strong—she's carrying all of us and doesn't even notice."

Betty wanted to touch the elephant too, wanted to feel that strange skin, but the sides of the howdah kept her enclosed, protected, separated from the creature that carried them. She could put her arm on the edge of the howdah and felt both disappointed and relieved.

"All set?" the trainer called up. Without waiting for an answer, he made a clicking sound with his tongue and tapped Joy's shoulder with his pole. "Walk on, girl."

And Joy moved.

It was nothing like riding in a car or even on a horse, the times the Carringers had visited a ranch in the country. The elephant's gait was rolling and rhythmic, a side-to-side sway that made the howdah rock like a boat on gentle waves. Betty grabbed the side of the howdah.

"It's all right," Lyle said, his voice calm and steady in her ear. "That's just how elephants walk. We're perfectly safe. See? Isn't this something?"

They began moving along the circular track. The trainer walked beside Joy's head, occasionally touching her with the pole, guiding her with quiet commands and clicking sounds. The elephant's huge feet—each one bigger than Betty's torso—moved with surprising delicacy, placing themselves carefully on the packed earth of the track.

From her elevated perch, Betty could see over the zoo's fences to other enclosures. She could see the lion pacing in his cage, could see visitors pointing and waving up at the elephant riders. She could see her mother and grandmother standing at the rail where spectators gathered, Emily waving enthusiastically, Georgianna shading her eyes with her hand to see better.

"Wave to Mama!" Lyle said. Betty found her voice. "Mama! Grandma! Look! I'm on an elephant!"

The other riders were talking and laughing, commenting on the view, on the strange sensation of riding such a massive creature. The newlywed couple was taking turns with a camera, trying to photograph each other. The teenage boys were making elephant sounds, trumpeting loudly.

Betty began to relax. The initial terror was fading, replaced by wonder. She was higher up than she'd ever been except in her father's arms. She could feel the elephant's warmth radiating through the wooden floor of the howdah, could feel the power of the creature's muscles moving beneath them. Each step Joy took created a gentle rocking motion that was actually quite pleasant once you got used to it.

"Papa," Betty said, her voice small but curious, "is the elephant happy?"

Lyle considered the question. "I think so, Betty-bug. The trainers take good care of her. She has food and water and a place to live. And she's letting us ride on her back, which I think means she's a generous sort of elephant."

"She's very big."

"She certainly is. Elephants are the biggest land animals in the world. They're very smart too—smart as people, some say. They remember things for their whole lives. So Joy will probably remember you, the little girl in the white dress who rode on her back today."

Betty liked that idea. She liked thinking that this enormous creature might remember her, might carry the memory of this July morning through all her elephant years.

They made a complete circuit of the track. Betty watched her mother and grandmother come back into view, watched the zoo buildings rotate past, watched the shadows shift as Joy plodded along. The animal's ears continued their constant flicking, and occasionally her trunk would swing up and around, as if checking on her passengers.

Near the end of the circuit, something magical happened. A photographer appeared at the edge of the track—one of the official zoo photographers who documented special moments for the zoo's records and for publication in newspapers and the zoo's own materials.

"Hold still up there!" the photographer called. "Big smiles!"

The riders obliged, turning toward the camera. Lyle adjusted his position so Betty was clearly visible, sitting in back of him. The photographer raised his large box camera, disappeared behind the black cloth for a moment, then emerged.

"Got it! Beautiful! That'll be in the ZooNooZ magazine -- you'll be famous!"

Betty didn't understand what that meant, but she felt her father's chest swell with pride behind her.

"You hear that, Betty-bug? You're going to be in the zoo magazine. Wait until your friends at school see that!"

The ride continued for another half circuit—about five minutes total, though to Betty it felt both longer and shorter than that, the way momentous experiences warp time for children. Finally, the trainer guided Joy back to the loading area and brought the elephant to a gentle stop.

"End of the line, folks! Everyone climb down carefully now. Watch your step on the ladder."

The passengers disembarked one at a time. When it was Lyle and Betty's turn, Lyle climbed over the edge of the howdah with Betty in his arms and carefully descended the ladder. At the bottom, he set Betty on her feet, and they both looked up at Joy, who had already turned her attention to a bucket of vegetables the trainer was offering.

"Thank you, Joy," Betty said solemnly, as her mother had taught her to thank anyone who did something nice.

The elephant's trunk swept up, grabbed a carrot from the bucket, and deposited it in her mouth. If Joy heard Betty's gratitude, she gave no sign, but Betty didn't mind.

Emily hurried over, gathering Betty into her arms. "Oh, sweetheart! You were so brave! So high up! I was nervous just watching you!"

"It was fun, Mama," Betty said, surprising herself with the truth of it. "The elephant walks like this -- " She demonstrated the side-to-side sway, making her mother laugh.

Georgianna patted Betty's head. "My brave girl. Not many children can say they've ridden an elephant."

"The photographer took our picture," Lyle announced proudly. "We might be in the newspaper."

"Wouldn't that be something," Emily said, straightening Betty's ribbon, which had come askew during the ride.

They spent the rest of the morning at the zoo, visiting the other animals, but nothing could match the elephant ride. Betty looked back several times as they walked away, watching Joy carry other groups of riders around the track. Each time, she felt a small thrill of pride. She had done that. She, Betty Virginia Carringer, just four years old, had ridden an elephant.


Several years later, the ZooNooZ magazine arrived in mailboxes across San Diego. The Zoological Society's newsletter was a modest publication, but it was read avidly by zoo supporters and San Diego families who wanted to keep up with the latest developments at their growing zoo.

And there was a photograph with the caption: "Visitors enjoy an elephant ride aboard Joy, one of the Zoo's most popular attractions."

The image showed the howdah atop Joy, with all eight riders partially visible. At the very front, sitting back-to-back, were Lyle Carringer and little Betty. Lyle's hand reached forward to touch Joy's head, while Betty sat enclosed by the howdah's high sides, too small to reach over the edge but clearly delighted, her face split by a huge smile. The trainer stood beside Joy, his pole resting against his shoulder, and in the background, you could see other zoo buildings and the distinctive architecture of Balboa Park.

Betty, when she was older remembered the cool January morning, the smell of the elephant, the swaying motion of the ride. She'd remember her father's arms around her, making her feel safe. She'd remember looking down at her mother and grandmother from the height of an elephant's back, feeling like she could see the whole world.


The years would pass. Betty would grow from a toddler to a child to a young woman. She'd attend school and college, become a teacher, meet Fred, marry, have children of her own. The San Diego Zoo would grow too, from that modest collection of animals to one of the world's great zoological institutions. Joy would eventually be retired from giving rides as the zoo's philosophy evolved.

But that photograph from 1924 would remain in the Zoo archives, and finally appear in December 1985 in ZooNooz.  Betty and her sons saw it and marveled at how young their mother was, how small, how brave. Her grandchildren would study it, trying to imagine their grandmother as that tiny girl in the white dress.

And Betty herself, in her later years, would remember that her father had made her feel safe enough to try something scary. She'd remember that her mother and grandmother had cheered her on. She'd remember the feeling of being carried by something much larger and stronger than herself, trusting it to take care of her.

In a way, that elephant ride had been a metaphor for her whole life. There had been many times when Betty had found herself in situations that felt too big, too overwhelming—teaching a classroom full of teenagers, raising three boys, waiting for Fred to come home from the war, facing cancer. And each time, she'd had to trust something larger than herself to carry her through. Sometimes it was faith. Sometimes it was family. Sometimes it was simply the forward momentum of life itself, taking one step at a time, swaying but never falling.

The elephant ride at the San Diego Zoo had lasted perhaps five minutes. The memory would last a lifetime.

And somewhere in the zoo's archives, that photograph remained -- testimony to a moment when a little girl in a white dress had done something brave, something memorable, something that connected her forever to the city she loved and the zoo that had captured her four-year-old heart.

Betty Virginia Carringer, sitting back-to-back with her father atop an elephant named Joy, smiling for the camera, too small to touch the elephant herself but carried safely nonetheless, while a trainer led them around a circular track on a perfect San Diego morning in 1924.

Some moments are simply meant to be preserved. This was one of them.

3) The Google NotebookLM Video Overview for "Betty's Elephant Ride" is below:

4) This AI-generated material is historical fiction, since I don't have details of every day or every year in the lives of my own life or the lives of my ancestors.  Does it matter that I am presenting these as seemingly real answers or conversations?  I don't think so - because my purpose is to enable my descendants to know who their ancestors were and to help them understand the lives of their ancestors.  The AI-generated responses are much more readable and creative than any response I have in my memory bank or that I can create.

5)  This event really happened and the names and events mentioned are real.  See a newspaper article from 2 January 1924 in Children Rode Elephants At the San Diego Zoo in 1924. ZooNooz published the photograph in the December 1985 edition of the magazine. I asked my mother about this when I first saw the photograph back in 1985 and she confirmed it was her and her father. What are the odds that they would appear in a photograph like this, and be published 60 years later?

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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


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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A Hallowe'en Ancestor Reunion Story

A)   I asked OpenAI ChatGPT5 for ten Hallowe'en story ideas with a genealogical theme, and Chatty did not disappoint - here are the suggestions:

That’s a fun idea — genealogy and Halloween go together beautifully! Here are Halloween-themed genealogy story ideas you could write, tell, or illustrate, mixing history, family lore, and a touch of the spooky:

👻 1. The Family Cemetery Visit

Write about visiting an ancestor’s graveyard on a foggy Halloween night — and feeling as though your ancestors are “welcoming” you back. You could include real burial locations and epitaphs you’ve found in your research.

🕯️ 2. The Candle in the Attic

A descendant finds an old family Bible, diary, or photo album in the attic — but every Halloween, the candle by it flickers on by itself. The “ghost” might be trying to pass along a clue about a missing ancestor or an unsolved mystery in the family tree.

🪦 3. The Genealogist and the Grave

While researching ancestors in an old cemetery, the genealogist discovers a headstone that doesn’t appear in any record. When they trace it, the name belongs to someone who “shouldn’t exist” — perhaps a forgotten twin, or an ancestor erased from history.

🕸️ 4. The Disappearing Ancestor

A true genealogical mystery turned ghost story — someone who vanishes from census and church records after a certain year. Write it as if the missing ancestor is whispering through documents and artifacts, trying to tell you what happened.

🎃 5. The Haunted Homestead

Set in your ancestor’s 18th- or 19th-century home. A modern descendant spends the night there and begins to “see” scenes from the past — the spinning wheel turning, a cradle rocking, voices reading scripture. The spirits might just be replaying family life.

💀 6. The Witch in the Family Tree

Explore a real or rumored ancestor accused of witchcraft (in Salem or elsewhere). Imagine what their trial, punishment, and descendants’ shame or silence might have felt like — and what happens when you, generations later, uncover their story.

🪄 7. The Photograph That Changed

You find an 1860s tintype or cabinet card of an ancestor — but every time you scan or photograph it, a new detail appears (a hand on the shoulder, a blurred figure in the background, a name etched faintly in the corner).

☠️ 8. The Skeleton in the Family Closet

Use the phrase literally or metaphorically: a long-hidden crime, secret child, or family scandal revealed through DNA or research — with the “skeleton” demanding to be acknowledged.

🌕 9. The Moonlight Reunion

Every Halloween night, all the ancestors from a particular line gather at their old homestead — but only those who know their names can see them. A genealogist protagonist races to finish the family tree before midnight.

🧛 10. The Immortal Ancestor

Playfully weave folklore into your genealogy: what if one ancestor really did seem to live unnaturally long, or show up in different eras under the same name? A “vampire” story grounded in real records and timelines.

Would you like me to focus a few of these ideas into full short story outlines (say, 3–5 paragraph summaries), perhaps using your own ancestors as characters — like the Carringers or Feathers?

(AI Gemini image - A dark and spooky night on the Carringer farm on Hallowe'en)

B) Number 9 looked like an interesting story, so I provided information about my Carringer line from Martin Carringer (1758-1835) to myself (7 generations) and had it write:

🕯️ The Hallowe’en Reunion at the Carringer Farm

The moon rose full and silver over the quiet hills of Mercer County, Pennsylvania. The old Carringer farm was long gone — its fences rotted, its barn collapsed — but on this Hallowe'en night, the land remembered. The air itself seemed to hum with anticipation, as though the soil held stories waiting to be told.

Randy Seaver stood in the cool grass, the genealogist’s notebook trembling in his hands. He had come alone to this place of beginnings, where his 4th great-grandfather Martin Carringer settled after the Revolution. The map said he was standing near the old homestead site, but tonight, he didn’t need maps. 

He whispered into the wind, “Martin and Mary… Henry and Sarah… Jackson and Rebecca… Austin and Della… Lyle and Emily… Betty and Fred…” — the names of six generations, each a chapter in his family’s book.

A breeze swept through the trees, and suddenly, the field shimmered like candlelight. Shapes took form in the mist — faint at first, then solid as moonlight on stone.

Martin Carringer appeared first, tall and straight, his weathered face framed by white hair. His wife, Mary “Molly” Hoax, stood beside him, her shawl glowing softly. “You called us,” Martin said in a voice like wind through pine. “And so we came.”

Behind them came their son Henry Carringer and his wife Sarah Feather, holding hands as though no years had passed. David Jackson Carringer followed, arm-in-arm with Rebecca Spangler, both beaming with the solid grace of mid-19th-century life. Henry Austin Carringer appeared next, his Kansas sun-browned face breaking into a grin, Della Smith at his side, her eyes sparkling with the energy of adventure.

Then came Lyle Lawrence Carringer, dapper and confident, with Emily Auble, graceful and kind. They turned as another pair emerged — Betty Virginia Carringer, her 1940s tresses catching the moonlight, and beside her, her husband Fred Seaver, smiling proudly.

Randy could hardly breathe. Every Carringer ancestor whose records he’d traced, whose faded portraits he’d studied, was now before him — alive, luminous, and connected through time.

Martin stepped forward. “We wondered who would remember,” he said, his voice kind. “Two centuries, and yet our names live still. You’ve done what few have — you’ve given us back our family.”

Randy laughed softly through tears. “You gave me mine,” he said. “I only followed your trail.”

Austin shook his head, eyes bright. “You did more than follow. You searched. You listened. You told our stories!

Around them, the meadow brightened, lanterns appearing where none had been — each one bearing the glow of a remembered life. Children ran through the mist: little Effie Carringer, Devier Carringer, and cousins whose names only lived in family Bibles and Randy's family tree. Emily stooped to arrange flowers that weren’t really there; Martin described life in Valley Forge; Henry told a story of life growing up in the house; DJ and Rebecca talked about the Iowa tornado; Austin and Della told stories of Kansas winds and San Diego sunshine; Lyle and Emily described their three grandsons at Christmas time; Betty and Fred laughed about their romance and wedding, and the house on 30th Street - if walls could only talk!

Martin placed a hand on Randy’s shoulder. “We’ve watched you, son,” he said. “Every document, every photograph, every word you wrote about us — it keeps our light burning.”

Betty stepped forward, her eyes warm. “Mom and Dad told me to be proud of our family,” she said. “Now I can tell you how proud I am of what you’ve done. You gave us voice again.”

For a while — a long, unmeasured while — they simply talked. Across two and a half centuries, the Carringers shared stories, jokes, and songs that bridged generations. The air felt neither of this world nor the next, but of both — a space made sacred by memory.

Then, as dawn painted the eastern sky, the first rays touched the field. The ancestors began to fade, their forms dissolving into the morning mist. Martin gave a slow nod. “Our time ends when daylight comes. But remember, we are never gone — only waiting to be remembered.”

Randy blinked back tears. “I’ll remember. Always.”

When the light returned fully, he stood alone again, save for one thing glimmering in the grass — an autumn leaf, gold as fire, with faint handwriting upon it: “Carringer → Seaver → forever remembered.”

He tucked it into his notebook, heart full. As he walked back toward the road, he could almost feel them beside him — his ancestors, walking the old path home, smiling through the centuries.

C) My eyes are full...I am a sentimentalist, and ChatGPT5 knows it.

I wish I could have a dream like this with, especially, my Seaver and Carringer ancestral families.

NOTE: Feel free to use any of ChatGPT5's suggested story lines - just give Chatty some information about some of your ancestors or situations and see what it writes for you.

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

Last year's AI-assisted Hallowe'en poems, images and a song are in A Genealogist's Hallowe'en Tricks and Treats From Artificial Intelligence. Here's the song, titled "A Family Hallowe'en.":


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

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


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.  Note that all comments are moderated, so they may not appear immediately.

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Findmypast Friday: Delve into new and exclusive electoral records and more

   I received this information from Findmypast today:

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

Delve into new and exclusive electoral records and more

Over 10 million new records have been added to Findmypast this week, allowing you to explore your ancestors' lives in more detail than ever before.


We've added a major new collection of electoral registers from Leicestershire this week, a must-search for anyone with family roots in England's East Midlands. Plus, discover more stories in detailed monumental inscriptions, workhouse records and our latest tranche of newspaper pages.

Here's everything that we've added this Findmypast Friday.

Leicestershire Electoral Registers 1836-1970

A brand new set of 10 million electoral register records, covering 1836-1970, has been added for the English county of Leicestershire. This rich resource is ideal for tracing your ancestors between census years, and can reveal who was eligible to vote, where they lived, and how local communities evolved over time. From bustling Leicester to more rural market towns and villages, each record is a snapshot of local life.

Leicestershire Monumental Inscriptions

This new collection includes 414 records spanning seven centuries, and covers burials in churchyards, cemeteries and war memorials. If you think you may have Leicestershire ancestry, these records could be the key to unlocking a new branch of your family tree.

Lincolnshire, Workhouse Guardians' Minute Books

Discover if your Lincolnshire ancestor found themselves in the workhouse in the 19th century, a time of Dickens and Poor Law reform. There are 10,529 new records, covering the years 1837-1902, to delve into. This is the latest tranche of records from Lincoln Poor Law Union.

Five new newspapers to explore

Titles covering England, Scotland, Wales and beyond have all been released, alongside updates to seven other papers.

New titles:
  • Aberdeen Bon-Accord & Northern Pictorial, 1951-1959
  • Allen’s Indian Mail, 1843-1847, 1850-1860, 1863-1870, 1872-1882, 1884-1885, 1887-1891
  • Newcastle-under-Lyme Times, 1938-1950
  • Northern Review, 1887-1894
  • Y Celt, 1881-1882, 1884, 1891
Updated titles:
  • Ayrshire Express, 1879, 1884-1886
  • Chichester Observer, 1986-2004
  • Felixstowe Times, 1937-1962
  • Montrose Review, 1994-1999
  • Paignton Observer and Echo, 1932-1962
  • Peterborough Evening Telegraph, 1986, 1989, 1991-1993
  • South Yorkshire Times and Mexborough & Swinton Times, 1992-2004
More on this topic:               english records

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See all of my posts about Findmypast at https://www.geneamusings.com/search/label/FindMyPast

Disclosure: I have a complimentary subscription to Findmypast, and have accepted meals and services from Findmypast, as a Findmypast Ambassador. This has not affected my objectivity relative to Findmypast and its products.

The URL for this post is:  https://www.geneamusings.com/2025/10/findmypast-friday-delve-into-new-and.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 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 immediately.

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Thursday, October 30, 2025

Added and Updated MyHeritage Record Collections - 24 to 30 October 2025

The following Record Collections were ADDED or Updated in the MyHeritage Collections Catalog during the week of 24 to 30 October 2025:

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

There are 5 ADDED record collections in the list this past week, and MyHeritage now has a total of  7,508 record collections (an increase of 5 collections from last week), with 36,653,831,296 records or entries (a decrease of about 16 million entries  from last week).   

The number of entries in the family tree collections were last updated fourteen weeks ago.

See previous Genea-Musings posts about MyHeritage record collections and features in https://www.geneamusings.com/search/label/MyHeritage.com.

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

Disclosure: I receive a complimentary subscription to MyHeritage, and have received other material consideration in past years. I uploaded my autosomal DNA raw data to their DNA product. This does not affect my objective analysis of MyHeritage products. I am a paid subscriber to Family Tree Webinars and love it.

The URL for this post is: https://www.geneamusings.com/2025/10/added-and-updated-myheritage-record_0422967285.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.  Note that all comments are moderated, so they may not appear immediately.

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

Alma Bessie (Richmond) Seaver's Life Memories - An AI-Assisted Memoir

I wrote a genealogical sketch for my paternal grandmother, Alma Bessie (Richmond) Seaver  in My Paternal Grandmother, Alma Bessie (Richmond) Seaver (1882-1962)  based on the records found that document her life. There is an AI-assisted biography in ABC Biography of #5 Alma Bessie (Richmond) Seaver (1882-1962) of Massachusetts based on the genealogical sketch. I wondered what she might say in a life memoir to her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

1)  Based on the genealogical sketch, I requested Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 to create a memoir spoken by Grandma Bess summarizing her life in 1962.  The prompt was:  "Please create a memoir that Bessie (Richmond) Seaver would tell to her grandchildren and great-grandchildren about her life in early 1962."

2)  The AI Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 memoir (lightly edited for accuracy) is:

Grandma Bess's Story

A Memoir for My Grandchildren

As told by Alma Bessie (Richmond) Seaver, 1962

My dear grandchildren,

I'm eighty years old now, and when you reach such an age, you realize that memories are the treasures we leave behind. I want to tell you about my life—where I came from, how I grew up, and the journey that brought me to this moment, blessed with all of you.

A Musical Childhood in Mill Towns

I was born on February 16, 1882, in Killingly, Connecticut, the seventh of nine children. Can you imagine? Our house was never quiet! My parents were Thomas and Julia Richmond—Papa had come from England as a boy, and Mama was from Connecticut. We were always moving, following Papa's work in the textile mills. From Rhode Island to Connecticut and finally to Massachusetts, where we settled in Leominster when I was in my teens.

But wherever we lived, we had music. Oh, such music! Papa was a tenor and choir director, and Mama played the organ and piano. In our home, music wasn't just entertainment—it was as necessary as breathing. Papa would lead us in songs, and Mama's fingers would dance across the piano keys every evening.

I had eight brothers and sisters: Annie, Frederic (who died when he was just five), Everett, Grace, Emily, Charles, Edwin, and little Jimmy. We lost several of them far too young—that was the way of things back then. But we were a close family, active in the Episcopal Church wherever we went, and music bound us all together.

Learning My Craft

From the time I was small, I was drawn to the piano like a moth to flame. Mama and Papa saw I had a gift, and they nurtured it. I would practice for hours, my fingers learning the patterns, the rhythms, the way notes could weave together to create something beautiful. I fell in love with Chopin—his music spoke to something deep in my soul. Those complex, romantic pieces became my favorites, and I still play them today when my fingers cooperate.

When I was a teenager, I took organ lessons, and before I knew it, I was playing the church organ at St. Mark's Episcopal Church here in Leominster. Imagine—a young girl, barely old enough to understand the responsibility, playing for the whole congregation! But I loved it. There was something sacred about making music in that holy space, helping people lift their voices in praise.

A June Wedding

In 1900, when I was just eighteen years old, I married your grandfather, Frederick Walton Seaver. We called him Fred. The wedding was on June 21st, right there in my parents' home on Summer Street. I wore a dress of Swiss muslin with Valenciennes lace and white satin ribbon, and I carried pink roses and a white prayer book.


(Fred and Bessie (Richmond) Seaver - June 1900, from family sources)

I can still see that evening so clearly—the room decorated with laurel, daisies, and roses, Reverend Brown conducting the full Episcopal service, Papa giving me away with tears in his eyes, and my friend Jennie Marcy playing the wedding march. About twenty-five of our closest family and friends were there. After the ceremony and reception, Fred and I walked to our new home at 149 Lancaster Street, where we'd live with his parents and grandmother Hildreth.

I was so young! Just eighteen, and about to begin my life as a wife. Fred was working in a comb factory—Leominster was famous for its combs back then, made from celluloid. We didn't have much, but we had each other and dreams for the future.

Seven Children in Seventeen Years

Those next years went by in a blur of babies and bottles, diapers and dishes. Your parents and aunts and uncles came one after another:

Marion arrived first, in November 1901. Then Evelyn in March 1903. We moved to Fitchburg when Fred became a superintendent, and that's where Stanley was born in 1905. Oh, Stanley—my sweet boy. He was only four when scarlet fever took him from us in 1910. You never get over losing a child. Never. Even now, fifty-two years later, I think of him and wonder what kind of man he would have become.

Ruth came in 1907, and Frederick Jr. in 1911. We moved back to Leominster in 1913 when Fred got a position at the Paton Manufacturing Company. We lived in a big house right on the factory grounds at 290 Central Street. Edward was born there in 1913, and finally Geraldine, my baby, in 1917.

Seven children in seventeen years. Seven babies to feed and clothe and love and worry over. I had to give up playing the organ at church—there simply wasn't time. That was hard for me, harder than I let anyone know. Music was part of who I was, and suddenly it had to take a back seat to everything else.

My Salvation: The Piano After Dinner

But I found a way. Every evening after dinner, I would go to the piano. The older girls could handle the dishes, and for two hours—sometimes more—I would play. This became my ritual, my sanctuary, my way of staying myself in the midst of all those demands.

(Bessie at her piano in the 1920s, from family sources)

Gerry remembers it, I know. She's told me how she would lie in bed upstairs, listening to the strains of Chopin floating up from the parlor. That piano saved me, children. When you're raising seven little ones, you can lose yourself entirely if you're not careful. But those evening hours at the piano reminded me that I was still Bessie Richmond, the girl who loved music, not just Mama who cooked and cleaned and worried.

I would play from memory—I learned pieces so quickly that I barely needed the sheet music. My fingers knew where to go, and the music would pour out of me like prayer. Those were sacred hours, and your grandfather understood. He never once complained or asked me to give them up.

Life in the Mill Towns

We moved several times as Fred advanced in his career. From Leominster to Fitchburg and back to Leominster again. The children went to different schools—Highland Avenue, Maverick Street, Goddard Street. They made friends, lost friends when we moved, made new ones.

When we lived at 290 Central Street, the house was heated by warm air piped in from the factory. Can you imagine? We had a barn we used as a garage, chicken coops, rabbit hutches. A brook ran alongside the house. The children had space to play and explore, and we were happy there.

In the 1920s, we bought a cottage on Whalom Lake. Summer weekends there were glorious—swimming, relaxing, away from the heat and bustle of town. We took a few trips to Cape Cod, too. By then the older children were young adults, and we were finally able to breathe a little easier financially.

When DuPont bought the Paton company in 1927, we moved to 20 Hall Street, right across from the high school. Fred worked as superintendent of the toothbrush division until he retired in 1941. We had a good life. Not fancy, but comfortable and filled with love.

Marion married Irving Braithwaite in 1928 and moved to Springfield, and they had Nancy. Evelyn married Walter Wood in 1926 and lived in Lawrence for a time, had Virginia, Jack and Sonny, and now I have great-grandchildren! Ruth married Bowers Fischer in 1930 and stayed close by in Leominster, and had daughters Judy and Barbie. Fred went to California in 1940, and married Betty Carringer in 1942, and they have three sons, Randy, Stan and Scott. Ed married Janet Roukes in 1940 and stayed in Leominster, and they had son Peter and daughter Joanie. I am blessed with eleven grandchildren and now nine great-grandchildren.

Returning to the Organ

In 1923, something wonderful happened. My youngest children were old enough that I could reclaim another piece of myself. I went back to playing the organ at St. Mark's Episcopal Church—the same church where I'd played as a teenager, the same church where Fred and I were married.

For eighteen years, I served that congregation faithfully, playing every Sunday. It felt like coming home. My fingers on those organ keys, the music filling the sanctuary, the congregation singing—this was what I was meant to do. I kept that position until 1941, when Fred became ill.

Loss and Loneliness

Fred retired in 1941, but he didn't get to enjoy it long. He died on March 13, 1942, at the hospital in Lawrence. We'd been married for nearly forty-two years. Forty-two years of partnership, of raising children together, of building a life. And then he was gone.

I won't lie to you, children. Those first months were dark. You don't spend that many years with someone and then adjust easily to their absence. The house felt empty, even with Gerry still at home. Everything reminded me of him.

But life goes on, and in July of 1942, just four months after Fred died, Gerry and I took the train all the way across the country to San Diego for Frederick Jr.'s wedding to Betty. It was my first time in California, and oh, what a journey! Three thousand miles by train. The landscapes changing outside the window, desert and mountains, so different from Massachusetts. The wedding was lovely, though bittersweet without Fred there to see his son married.

New Chapters

After we came home, Gerry and I moved to Northampton where she was teaching music. But after a couple of years, I felt the pull back to Leominster. This is where I've spent most of my life, where my friends are, where most of my children and grandchildren live. I needed to come home.

So I got an apartment and found work—I became music director and organist at a Methodist church in Fitchburg and organist at the Episcopal church in Whalom. At my age, still working! But I loved it. I'm not one to sit idle, and making music for worship services gives my life purpose.

The Joy of Grandchildren

And then you all started arriving! Eleven grandchildren, nine great-grandchildren, each one precious beyond measure. Some of you live here in New England where I can see you regularly—birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, Sunday dinners. Three of them are in California, which is so far away, but they are always in my heart.

I love watching you grow up, seeing what kind of people you're becoming. When you were little, I'd listen to your troubles as if they were the most important things in the world—because to you, they were. I remember what it's like to be young, to have your whole life stretching out before you full of possibility and uncertainty.

In 1959, when I was seventy-seven, I got to take one more grand adventure. Evelyn and Walter, along with their granddaughter Diana, drove me out to California and back. Three thousand miles each way! Can you imagine? At my age, crossing the country by car. But it meant I got to meet my three California grandsons in person. Frederick Jr.'s boys—I got to hold them, talk to them, really know them, not just see them in photographs. That was a gift.

What I've Learned

I've lived through so much change. When I was born, there were trains but no automobiles, no airplanes, letters and telephones but no radios, no television. We had gaslights, not electricity. There were outdoor privies and chamberpots, not indoor plumbing. I've watched the world transform in ways my parents could never have imagined. Two world wars, the Great Depression, the incredible boom that came after, and rocket ships. Leominster changed from textile mills to comb factories to plastics manufacturing.

But some things don't change. Family matters. Faith matters. Music matters. Love matters.

I've learned that life will break your heart -- I buried my little Stanley, I've buried my parents and your grandfather, I've lost siblings and dear friends. But life will also fill your heart to overflowing with joy-- six children who survived and thrived, eleven grandchildren who light up my world, and now nine great-grandchildren - I hope there will be more!

I've learned that you have to hold onto the things that make you who you are. For me, that was music. Even when I had to set it aside for a while, I found ways to keep it in my life. Those evening hours at the piano weren't selfish -- they were necessary. You can't pour from an empty cup, as they say.

I've learned that beauty and hardship come intertwined. The same fingers that played Chopin and hymns also scrubbed floors and changed diapers. The same heart that soared with music also broke with grief. That's life -- not one or the other, but both.

(Bessie (Richmond) Seaver - ca 1960, from family sources)

My Wish for You

My dear grandchildren, I'm eighty years old now. I've lived a long life, and I'm tired. But I'm also deeply, profoundly grateful. I got to make music, to marry a good man, to raise children who became good people, to know and love all of you.

My wish for you is simple: Find what you love and hold onto it. Build families of your own and cherish them. Face hardships with courage and joys with gratitude. Remember where you came from—those English and New England roots, those textile mills and comb factories, those hymns and Chopin nocturnes.

And when you hear piano music, especially Chopin, think of me. Think of your grandmother who played until her fingers grew stiff with age, who found in music a language for all the things she couldn't say with words. Think of a girl born in 1882 who lived to see 1962, who witnessed a century of change but held fast to what mattered most.

I love you all, more than these words can express. More than any music could convey, even Chopin at his most beautiful. You are my legacy, my joy, my hope for the future.

Please remember me fondly!


Alma Bessie (Richmond) Seaver passed away on June 29, 1962, at Leominster Hospital after a long illness. She was surrounded by the love of her large family to the very end. She eventually had twenty great-grandchildren and now has second and third great-grandchildren. 

3) The Google NotebookLM Video discussing Alma Bessie (Richmond) Seaver's memoir is below:

4)  I think that these relatively short memoirs are poignant and will be interesting to his descendants, and especially to me. This format provides a different perspective than a biography, doesn't it?  

This is historical fiction,  but many of the historical facts from the genealogical sketch are included and it rings true to me.  These are thoughts and words that Bessie Seaver might have said or written down late in her life if her children and grandchildren had asked her to reminisce.  I hope that they did ask her at some point.  My Aunt Gerry passed many memories of her life, including stories about her parents and siblings, in a series of audio tapes which I have transcribed.

I will write more of these AI-assisted memoirs or life memories as told by my ancestors as time goes on.  This is great genealogy fun for me!

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

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


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.  Note that all comments are moderated, so they may not appear immediately.

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