Wednesday, April 15, 2026

Genealogy Education Bytes - Week of 9 to 15 April 2026

 Welcome to Genealogy Education Bytes, posted on Wednesday afternoon for the past week, where we try to highlight some of the most important genealogy and family history education items that came across my desktop since the last issue.




1) Upcoming Conferences and Institutes

* Conference Keeper Calendar - has many links to register for and/or view seminars, conferences and institutes.

* Root Cellar Spring Seminar, featuring Drew Smith, MA, MS, MS ($$, In-person, in Sacramento California) - 18 April 2026.

* MGC Spring Seminar 2026: Branches & Bytes: Exploring AI in Genealogy with Steve Little and Mark Thompson ($$, In-person, in Kansas City, Missouri) - 18 April 2026.

* 'Navigating the Future' - Guild of One-Name Studies Conference 2026 ($$, In-person, Portsmouth, England) - 24 to 26 April 2026.

* National Genealogical Society 2026 Family History Conference ($$, In-person and virtual, in Fort Wayne, Indiana) - 27 to 30 May 2026.

2 ) Upcoming Webinars and Online Classes (times are US Pacific):

* Conference Keeper Calendar - has many links to register for and/or view seminars, webinars and classes.

* FamilySearch MonthlyWebinars (Free)

* RootsTech 2019-2026 On-Demand Sessions (Free)

* Legacy Family Tree Webinar -- Wednesday, 15 April, 11 a.m.: DNA in Action 2 of 6: Writing Proofs including DNA by Karen Stanbary.

* Legacy Family Tree Webinar -- Wednesday, 15 April, 5 p.m.: From Research to Data with AI 4 of 5: Seeing Patterns—Summaries, Timelines, and Clusters by Andrew Redfern.

* Legacy Family Tree Webinar -- Friday, 17 April, 11 a.m.: Researching Métis Ancestors: Origins, Scrip, and Red River Records by Christine Woodcock.

*  Legacy Family Tree Webinar --  Tuesday, 21 April, 5 p.m.: What's in a Name? Finding Your Norwegian Ancestors by Christina Gow Clever.

*  Legacy Family Tree Webinar --  Wednesday, 22 April, 11 a.m.: Fields of Hope: African Americans, Immigrants, and Women in the Homesteading Era by Angela Packer McGhie.

*  Legacy Family Tree Webinar --  Wednesday, 22 April, 5 p.m.: From Research to Data with AI 5 of 5: Your AI Research Assistant—Logs, Notes, and Citations by Andrew Redfern.

*  Legacy Family Tree Webinar --   Friday, 24 April, 11 a.m.: Essential Skills for New Genealogists 2 of 12: Vital Records—Records of Hatchings, Matchings & Dispatchings by Dave McDonald.
3) Recent Podcasts:

* Ancestors and Algorithms:  Ep. 33: FAN Club Method + AI - Find Ancestors Through Their Neighbors


* Family Tree Talk:  The perseverance in family history

4) Recent YouTube Videos

*  Allen County Public Library:  A Guide to Württemberg Emigration Records
*  Allen County Public Library:  Exploring Family History in Rhode Island
*  Allen County Public Library:  Learning Your Family History






*  DearMYRTLE's Archive:  Mondays with Myrt - 13 April 2026

* Denyse Allen - Chronicle Makers:  Genealogy AI Showdown: Claude vs ChatGPT vs Gemini
 







*  GeneaBloggers:  2026 Geneabloggers Annual Meeting


*  Int'l Institute of Genealogical Studies:  Planning a Research Trip to Scotland

* Italian Roots and Genealogy:  Who Were My Italian Ancestors? I Finally Found Out

* Randy Seaver, Geneaholic:  Emily and Lyle's Story: The Dance



* Trace Your New England Roots:   The Impossible Bond Between Metacomet And Hugh Cole
* Trace Your New England Roots:  Maine Genealogy Brick Wall? These Records Never Fail

*  Write Your Family History With Devon Noel Lee:  I Thought I Knew How to Write My Family History—Until ChatGPT Asked This


5) Did you miss the last post in this series -- Genealogy Education Bytes - Week of 2 to 8 April 2026?

Read past Genealogy Education Bytes here.

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NOTE: If I missed an upcoming conference or webinar, or a useful podcast or video, in this time period, please let me know in a comment or an email.

The URL for this post is:  https://www.geneamusings.com/2026/04/genealogy-education-bytes-week-of-9-to.html

Copyright (c) 2026, 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 comment 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 and may not appear immediately.

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Life Memoir of Maria (Beamish) Paul (1827-1909) in San Francisco in 1907

 I wrote an AI-assisted ABC biography for the family of my my wife's 2nd great-grandparents John Charles and Maria T. (Beamish) Paul in ABC Biography of John Charles and Maria (Beamish) Paul of Ireland and San Francisco, based on my genealogical research over 38 years. 

I wondered what Maria (Beamish) Paul might have told her grandchildren in a life memoir in late 1907. 




(AI Google NotebookLM Infographic for Maria Paul's life memoir)

1)  I requested Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 to   "Please write a life memoir for Maria (Beamish) Paul based on the attached biography, as she might tell to her grandchildren in 1907."

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


In My Own Words
The Life of Maria Paul
née Beamish

As told to her grandchildren, San Francisco, 1907


"We came such a long way, children. But I would do it all again."

Come, Sit Beside Me

Now then, come close, all of you, and stop your fidgeting. Pull your chairs up to mine and let the fire do its work. Yes, you too, little one — there is room on the footstool. I am an old woman now, eighty years come August, and my bones have earned the right to sit near a warm hearth. But I have enough breath left in me, God willing, to tell you something of where I came from and how I came to be sitting in this very chair, in this city, in California of all the improbable places in the world.

Your mother and your aunt Rebecca have heard bits of this story, here and there, over the years. But I never told it all at once, not from the beginning. So tonight I will try. You must promise me one thing, though — you must remember it. Write it down someday if you can. A family that forgets where it came from is like a ship that has lost its anchor. It drifts, and it does not know why.

Ireland: The Country I Carry Inside Me

I was born on the twenty-seventh of August, in the year 1827, in County Cork, Ireland. I will not pretend I remember it clearly — one does not remember being an infant — but I carry Ireland inside me the way you carry the smell of your mother's kitchen long after you have left home. It is a green country, they say, greener than anything you will ever see in California, and the sky is a particular shade of grey that has no equal in all the world. My father was Thomas Beamish and my mother was Catherine, and beyond that I will not tell you much, because there is not much I know with certainty, and I will not invent what I cannot remember.

What I do know is this: Ireland in those years was in terrible trouble. The potato, which was the food that kept half the country alive, began to fail in the autumn of 1845, when I was eighteen years old. What followed was a catastrophe beyond anything I have words for, even now. People starved — truly starved, children and grandmothers alike — and others died of the fevers that follow hunger as surely as night follows day. A million souls, they say, perished in those years. Another million left on the emigrant ships. I was among those who left. I had to go. Ireland as I had known it was dying, and I was young and strong and I wanted to live.

The crossing to America was not pleasant. I was a young woman traveling alone, which was not so uncommon as you might think — we Irish girls learned early how to look after ourselves. The ship was crowded and the sea was rough and the smell below decks was something I prefer not to dwell upon. But I arrived. I arrived in one piece with my health and my wits about me, and that was more than many could say.

New Bedford, Massachusetts: Where I Found My Footing

I made my way to New Bedford, in Massachusetts, which was at that time one of the great cities of the world — or so it felt to a young Irish girl who had never seen anything larger than a market town. New Bedford was the whaling capital of the earth. The harbor was full of ships, tall-masted and magnificent, and the smell of whale oil hung over everything like a permanent fog. It was a busy, prosperous, noisy place, full of sailors and merchants and people from every corner of the globe.

I found work in the household of a respectable family, as many Irish girls did. It was honest work and it kept a roof over my head and food in my belly, which was all I asked of life in those early years. I learned the ways of an American household — the stoves, the marketing, the laundry, the particular standards that New England women kept. I learned to speak without quite so much of Ireland in my voice, though it never left entirely. Your grandfather used to say he could always hear County Cork in me when I was angry, and perhaps he was right.

It was in New Bedford that I met John Paul. He was a Newfoundlander — which is almost the same as being Irish, I always thought, because half of Newfoundland was Irish to begin with. He was a cooper by trade, a maker of barrels, and he had strong hands and a quiet manner and dark eyes that I found very difficult to look away from. We were married on the twenty-ninth of April, 1852, in a Roman Catholic ceremony. Father McNulty performed the rite. I was twenty-four years old. I wore my good dress and carried flowers that a neighbor had cut from her garden, and I was the happiest I had ever been in my life.

Our Early Years Together

Mary Ann was born to us in November of 1854, our first child, and such a joy she was. I had feared, as young mothers do, that I would not know what to do with a baby — but it turns out that babies are rather instructive on the subject. They make their needs quite clear. Rebecca came along in November of 1856, and by then John had decided that New Bedford, wonderful as it was, was not where our fortune lay. The country was moving westward. Every newspaper you picked up in those years spoke of nothing but the West — the railroads being built, the land being settled, the opportunities waiting for a working man with a strong back and an ambitious heart.

So we moved to Chicago, Illinois, in about 1856. Chicago was something altogether different from New Bedford — flat as a tabletop and loud as a thunderstorm, sitting on the edge of that great lake which is so large you cannot see the other shore and might mistake it for the sea. The city was growing so fast you could practically hear the hammering day and night. John found work there, and we made our home in the eighth ward. It was a decent neighborhood, working people mostly, Irish and Germans and a scattering of everyone else.

Two more children were born to us in Chicago. Little Robert came in 1859 — and I must tell you about Robert, because I will not skip over him simply because his story was short. He was a beautiful boy, with his father's eyes and my stubborn chin, and he died before he was five years old. In those years you expected to lose children. Everyone did. But expecting it does not make it easier. You carry them with you, the ones you lose. I carry Robert still.

Abbie was born in September of 1861, our third daughter and a fierce little creature from the first day. By the time she arrived, the country had gone to war with itself — the great Civil War that tore America in half. John was too old to be taken as a soldier, and for that I thanked God every morning. We watched the headlines and prayed for it to end, and it did end, but at a cost that still makes me grieve when I think of it.

The Long Journey West: Chicago to San Francisco

It was in 1862 that John made up his mind that California was where we were bound. The Gold Rush had happened more than ten years before, but San Francisco was still drawing people by the thousands, and John said that a man who could work hard could make something of himself there. I will not say I was entirely enthusiastic about the idea. I had only just got Chicago arranged to my liking, and now we were to uproot ourselves again. But I had followed John from New Bedford to Chicago and I was not going to stop trusting him now. So I packed what we had and we set off.

Now, children, I want you to understand that in 1862 there was no railroad all the way to California. That would not come until 1869. So the journey west was a considerable undertaking. We went by train from Chicago south through Illinois and on down through the heart of the country, all the way to New Orleans, in Louisiana. That train journey alone took the better part of several days, and with young children it felt longer still. The railway cars were not luxurious — hard wooden benches, coal smoke, and the constant rocking and screeching of the wheels. We ate what we had brought with us and watched the landscape change outside the window, from the flat prairies of Illinois to the great wooded lowlands of the South.

New Orleans was like nothing I had ever seen. I had not expected it to feel so foreign — so French and Spanish and African all at once, the language a mixture I could barely follow, the food full of spices that made my eyes water, and the heat, even in what they told us was a mild season, heavier and wetter than anything I had known in Ireland or Massachusetts. We were there only long enough to arrange our passage on the ship. I did not see much of the city except the port, but what I saw I have never forgotten.

We sailed from New Orleans across the Gulf of Mexico to Panama. In those days you crossed the isthmus of Panama by a combination of boat and rail — the Panama Railroad had been completed just a few years before, and it was the fastest route to the Pacific. The crossing took perhaps a day, but it was a day spent in stifling jungle heat, with the air thick and green around you and strange birds screaming in the trees. I kept Mary Ann and Rebecca close beside me and held Abbie on my lap and tried not to think about the stories one heard of yellow fever and cholera along that route. We arrived safely on the other side, which I considered a minor miracle and thanked the Virgin Mary for.

Then we boarded a ship on the Pacific side and sailed north up the coast of Central America and Mexico and on up to San Francisco. The Pacific, despite its name, was not always pacific — we had some rough days at sea that had me wishing I had never left County Cork. But when we came through the Golden Gate — that great gap in the hills where the bay opens out before you — it was one of the finest sights I have ever seen in my life. The city was spread across the hills like something from a story, white and gleaming in the afternoon sun, and I thought: yes. Yes, this is where we are going to make our home.

San Francisco: Our Home at Last

We settled first on Green Street, and then moved several times over the years as the family grew and circumstances changed. John worked hard — as a cooper when he could find that work, as a laborer, as a janitor and watchman in his later years. It was not the life of ease that the dreamers imagined when they set off for California, but it was a real life, with a real roof over our heads and real food on the table, and I did not complain. We were not alone — the city was full of Irish families in much the same situation, and we looked after one another.

Robert Henry was born to us in about 1864, and then the twins — Thomas and John — came along in December of 1868, which was a surprise that I received with somewhat mixed feelings, I must confess, at the age of forty-one. Seven children in all. We raised them in this city, on these steep streets, and I watched them grow into their own people with a mother's particular mixture of pride and alarm.

John — your grandfather — died in May of 1879. He was fifty-five years old and the dropsy had taken hold of him, which is to say his heart and his body wore out before his spirit did. He died at Clara Street and we buried him at Mount Calvary Cemetery, where I will go to join him in God's good time. I was fifty-one when I lost him. We had been married twenty-seven years. I will not try to tell you what it is to lose a husband of twenty-seven years because I do not have the words and you, please God, will not need to know for a very long while yet.

The Children I Have Loved and Lost

Your grandmother has outlived children, and that is a grief that does not diminish with time. My little Robert died in Chicago before we even came to California. Then John Junior — my youngest boy, the twin — died in September of 1889, only twenty years old. He had his whole life in front of him. Abbie, my fierce, funny Abbie, died in November of 1894 at thirty-three. And Robert Henry, who sailed away to Mexico on some business of his own, died there in Acapulco in 1902.

I do not tell you these things to make you sad, but because they are true, and the truth of a family includes its sorrows as well as its joys. I have had both in good measure. Your mother Mary Ann and your aunt Rebecca are still here, and Thomas, and their children — you — and that is a richness that I am grateful for every single day I open my eyes.

The Earthquake: The City That Shook and Rose Again

Now I must tell you about last year, about the eighteenth of April, 1906, because you are old enough to remember some of it yourselves, and you should hear it told plainly.

I was at Natoma Street when it happened. It was just past five o'clock in the morning and I was not yet properly awake — at my age sleep is not always easy and I had been lying half-dozing when the world came apart. The shaking began suddenly and violently, not like the little tremors we sometimes feel here — this was a roar from deep in the earth, as though the ground itself had lost its temper. The walls cracked, the plaster fell, the windows shattered. I held on to the bedframe and prayed, because there was nothing else to do.

It lasted less than a minute, they say, though it felt like an eternity. When it stopped I got up — my heart hammering fit to burst — and looked out at what remained. The street was full of people in their nightclothes, all of us looking at one another with the same wild expression. Then we smelled the smoke. The fires had started almost immediately, fed by broken gas lines and fallen stoves, and with the water mains ruptured there was almost nothing to be done about them. For three days the city burned.

I watched the smoke rising from a dozen directions at once. I watched people loading their belongings onto wagons and baby carriages and their own backs and walking out through the streets with that particular blank look that disaster puts on human faces. The soldiers came and dynamited whole blocks to try to make firebreaks — the explosions going off one after another through the night, a sound I pray I never hear again. Mary Ann came and found me on the first day and took me to stay with her family, and I was grateful for that. I was seventy-eight years old and not as steady on my feet as I once was.

When it was over, a great portion of this city we had come so far to reach lay in ruins. Three thousand people dead. Hundreds of thousands without homes. I thought of the ship coming through the Golden Gate forty-four years before, and the white gleaming city spread across the hills, and I wept — not just for what was lost, but for all the people who had built it, most of them immigrants like us, who had come here with nothing and made something from it.

But then, children — and this is what I want you to remember — San Francisco got back up. Within months the hammering had started again. The streets were clearing, the rebuilding was underway, and people who had lost everything were already making plans. I have lived long enough to have seen great hardship in my time, and I will tell you this: the measure of a people is not whether they are struck down, but whether they rise. This city rose. I am proud of it.

What I Would Have You Remember

So that is the story, or most of it. A girl from Ireland who crossed the ocean alone at the age of about twenty-three, who found a good man in New Bedford and followed him to Chicago and then took a train to New Orleans and a ship through Panama and arrived in this city on the edge of the world and called it home. It is not so remarkable a story, really — there were thousands of us, hundreds of thousands, all doing much the same thing. But it is my story, and it is yours too, because you would not be sitting here in front of this fire if it had not unfolded exactly as it did.

Ireland is inside me still, and Newfoundland is inside you through your grandfather, and New Bedford and Chicago are in there too somewhere. All those places made us. Do not be in too great a hurry to forget them.

Now then. It is getting late and I am tired, and I believe I can hear your mother in the kitchen, which means supper will not be long. Come and give your old grandmother a kiss. Every one of you. Yes, even you, Paul — you are never too old to kiss your grandmother, whatever you may think.

God bless you all. Every one.

— Maria Paul, née Beamish
San Francisco, California, 1907

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

3)  The Video Overview of Maria Paul's life memoir, created by the Google NotebookLM AI tool, is:   

4)  I edited the Claude memoir text to correct minor inconsistencies and errors. Every large language model (LLM) AI tool writes descriptive text much better than I can write. The AI tools are very perceptive, insightful and inspiring, creating engaging text in seconds, including local and national historical events and social history detail when requested.

5)  This is historical fiction, based on my own genealogical research. It is what Maria (Beamish) Paul might have told her grandchildren in 1907.  

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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) 2026, Randall J. Seaver

The URL for this post is:  https://www.geneamusings.com/2026/04/life-memoir-of-maria-beamish-paul-1827.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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Bessie, Ed and Fred Seaver at Columbia University in 1935 -- (Not So) Wordless Wednesday #912

 This is a priceless (to me) image in my computer file folders from the Seaver/Richmond family photograph collection passed to me by my cousin Laura in 2008 (colorized using AI Google Gemini 3 from a black-and-white photograph): 


This photograph shows Alma Bessie (Richmond) Seaver (1882-1962), Edward Richmond Seaver (1913-2004), and Frederick Walton Seaver (1876-1942) on the happy occasion of Ed's graduation from Columbia University, probably in June 1935.  I don't know the exact setting for the photograph, but it is probably at Columbia University in New York City.

Alma Bessie and Frederick Seaver were my paternal grandparents, and Edward Seaver was my father's only brother that survived childhood.  Edward Seaver was the first college graduate in my Seaver line, I believe.  He also played guard on the Columbia college football and the team went to the 1934 Rose Bowl, defeating Stanford 7-0 on a rainy day.  

My thanks to cousin Laura for sending this picture, and many others, to me, and for permitting me to display them.

This photograph is a part of my family history.  

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Copyright (c) 2026, 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.    I moderate all comments and they may not appear immediately - please write only one comment.

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Tuesday, April 14, 2026

Genealogy News Bytes - Week of 8 to 14 April 2026

   Welcome to Genealogy News Bytes, posted on Tuesday afternoon for the past week, where we try to highlight the most important genealogy and family history news  items that came across our desktop since the last issue.    


1)  Genealogy and Family History News Articles:










2)  DNA Testing and Genetic Genealogy



3)  Genealogy Book/Magazine Notices and Reviews:





4)  New or Updated Genealogy Digital Record Collections:









5)  Did you miss the last post in this series?  See Genealogy News Bytes - Week of 1 to 7 April 2026.


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

The URL for this post is:  https://www.geneamusings.com/2026/04/genealogy-news-bytes-week-of-8-to-14.html

Copyright (c) 2026, 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, and may not appear immediately.

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Trying Out Ancestry.com's "Census Compare" Feature

 One of the new features at Ancestry.com is "Census Compare" which compares names, places, and household members with ages across two or more census record collections. 

1)  The Ancestry article Comparing Census Records with Census Compare provides detailed information.  The article notes that:

Comparing census records can help you:

  • Follow an ancestor across multiple census years
  • See how households and locations changed over time
  • Confirm details such as age, birthplace, occupation, or family members
  • Spot differences or possible errors between records
  • Decide which records belong to your ancestor and what information to add to your tree

"Census Compare" works only with the United States Federal Census and England and Wales Census record collections on Ancestry.com.

2)  In my Ancestry Member Tree, I have attached a number of census records to my 2nd great-grandfather, James Richman/Richmond (1821-1912).  In my Hints page, I clicked "Accepted" and saw a number of Census records for James Richmond.  Here is the portion of the page with the 1900 U.S. Census record as an Accepted Hint:


Note that there is a blue link for "Compare to other census hints" in the lower right-hand corner of that census record.

3)  When I click that link for "Compare to other census hints" a table appears with a number of records (maximum number on the screen seems to be five):


There is a "Next" button in the upper right of the table - whewn I click that it shows the 1851 England and Wales census on the right-side of the screen and shows four of the other five records.

The indexed fields that appear are:

  • Name
  • Birth date
  • Birth place
  • Residence
  • Spouse
  • Household

The user can click on the linked record collection in the Table to go to the census page for the person of interest.  

There may be times when Ancestry puts a record in the Table that is not for your person, but the record may be in the list of Hints. That happened in this case with an 1881 England and Wales census record for a James Richman born in 1819 that was not my person of interest (I Reviewed and then Ignored that Hint and it disappeared from the table).

4)  This feature can be useful to researchers.  If  a valid Hint appears in the "New" Hint or "Ignored" Hint column, the user needs to Review it and Save it to their Tree.  I found the 1841 England and Wales census for James Richman in my "New" Hint list, reviewed it and saved it, but did not see it added to the "Census Compare" table for some reason.

5)  How can the user save the Census Compare table?  There are several methods:

  • Print the Screen with the table, save it as an image, and trim the table and put it in a Word document. Here is the image I saved (with only five census records, not the six that I have):

  • Highlight and Copy the Table text and paste it to a spreadsheet:

The census page images are overlaid on the Table so I  moved them to the right of my OpenOffice Spreadsheet program.  Note that all six columns are provided. I can widen the fields if I need to.  The links to the Census pages for the records are active.

  • Highlighting and Copy the Table text into a word processor Table:
That didn't work well - with my OpenOffice word processor I got only the 1910 census and the other columns were blank. It was a mess, but did have the census page links.

  • Some other method I haven't thought of. 

There may be other ways to obtain the information, but only the Spreadsheet retained the links.

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

Disclosure:  I have a paid All-Access subscription to Ancestry.com now.  Ancestry.com has provided a complimentary subscription and material considerations for travel expenses to meetings, and has hosted events and meals that I have attended in Salt Lake City, in past years.


Copyright (c) 2026, 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.  All comments are moderated, and may not appear immediately after posting.

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