Wednesday, September 30, 2026

Genealogy Education Bytes - Week of 24 to 30 September 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.


*  APG 2026 Virtual Professional Management Conference (members only) ($$, Virtual) -- 14 to 17 October 2026.


*  2026 Heritage Books Genealogical Conference & Cruise with Angie Bush, Blaine Bettinger, and Craig Scott ($$, In-person, Cruise from Miami, Florida) -- 6 to 17 November 2026.

*  RootsTech 2027 ($$ in-person, Free virtual) -- 4 to 6 March 2027.

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, 30 September, 11:30 a.m.:  UNreasonably Exhaustive Research: Finding a Mother & a Father for a Man of Common Name, Born c1788, Virginia by Elizabeth Shown Mills.

*  Legacy Family Tree Webinar -- Friday, 2 October, 11 a.m.:  Migration Pathways Between Canada and the United States You Haven’t Considered by Kathryn Lake Hogan.

*  Legacy Family Tree Webinar -- Tuesday, 6 October, 6 p.m.:  Paternal or Maternal - Where Does This Match Fit? by Paul Woodbury.

*  Legacy Family Tree Webinar -- Wednesday, 7 October, 8:30 a.m.:  Photo Restoration Using Free and Paid Tools Like Never Before by Kimball Carter.

*  Legacy Family Tree Webinar -- Wednesday, 7 October, 9:45 a.m.: Cameras My Ancestors Held and What They Tell Us by Gordon L. McBean.

*  Legacy Family Tree Webinar -- Wednesday, 7 October, 11 a.m.: Generations in Focus: Preserving Family Memories Through Photography by Angela Andrieux.

*  Legacy Family Tree Webinar -- Friday, 9 October, 11 a.m.: They Came from Virginia: A Case Study in African American Research and Methodology by Julia A. Anderson.

3) Recent Podcasts:

* Ancestors and Algorithms:  Ep. 57: Find Her Maiden Name: Proving Parents with Indirect Evidence and AI




4) Recent YouTube Videos:








*  DearMYRTLE's Archive:  Mondays with Myrt - 28 Sept 2026


*  Ellen Thompson-Jennings - Family History Hound:  She Was Only Thirteen - A Genealogy Song 







*  Genealogy Quick Start:  Movement & Migration w/ Dante Eubanks




*  Italian  Roots and Genealogy:  Your Italian Family History: A Guide to Getting Started

*  Int'l Institute of Genealogical Studies: Historical Mysteries Recently Solved By DNA
*  Int'l Institute of Genealogical Studies:  Scottish Burial Records
*  Int'l Institute of Genealogical Studies:  IIGS September Internet Tech and Tools for Genealogy

*  Marcia Philbrick: Rachel Elmeda Christy Explainer



*  Talking Family History:  Ancestry Unpacked 2026 Tips 13


5) Did you miss the last post in this series -- Genealogy Education Bytes - Week of 17 to 23  September 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/2026/09/genealogy-education-bytes-week-of-24-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 Hannah (Rich) Richmond (1824-1911) of Wiltshire and Connecticut

 I wrote an AI-assisted ABC biography for my 2nd great-grandmother Hannsah (Rich) Richmond (1824-1911) in ABC Biography of #21 Hannah (Rich) Richman/Richmond (1824-1911) of Wiltshire and New England, based on my genealogical research over 38 years. 

I wondered what Hannah (Rich) Richmond might have told her grandchildren in a life memoir in 1911. I requested Anthropic Claude Sonnet 5 to "Please write a life memoir for Hannah (Rich) Richmond based on the attached biography, as she might tell her grandchildren in early 1911." 

(AI Gemini Notebook Infographic for Hannah (Rich) Richmond's life memoir)

The AI Anthropic Claude Sonnet 5 memoir (edited for accuracy and completeness) is:  


Grandmother Hannah's Story

Told to her grandchildren on the farm on Richmond Road, Putnam, Connecticut, Spring 1911

Come sit close, children, where I can see you. My eyes aren't what they were, and I want to look at your faces while I talk. Your grandfather is dozing by the stove, so we'll let him be. I turned eighty-seven this April, and it seems a good time to tell you where I came from, and who your fathers and mothers and aunts and uncles were when they were small. Someone ought to keep that, and I'm the one who's left to do it.

I was born Hannah Rich on the sixteenth of April, 1824, in Hilperton, in Wiltshire, in England. It's a village of stone cottages and wet green fields, and half the women in it worked at the looms. I was the seventh of my mother's children, and the second girl. There were eleven of us in all, but three little ones were taken before they were grown. My mother never spoke of them much, but I saw her face when the spring came round and the churchyard turned green again. I think that's why I've always held my own children a little tighter than folks thought necessary.

We had no money to speak of, but we had each other, and we had the church. I was baptized at Hilperton parish church when I was twelve years old, on a cold February day, and I remember the water was colder than the air. I've been a churchgoer ever since, though it was the Methodists who took me in after I came to America, and I've never regretted it.

As soon as I was old enough, I learned to weave wool. Some girls hated the work, but I liked it. There is something satisfying in watching a plain thread turn into cloth under your own hands. It taught me patience, and patience is most of what a woman needs in this life, along with a strong back and a good sense of humor.

Then there was your grandfather. James Richman was a good-looking fellow, and I won't pretend I didn't notice. We were married in that same church on the seventh of September, 1845. I was twenty-one, a spinster and a weaver, and I signed my name proud. We took a little place at Hilperton Marsh, and it wasn't long before the babies started coming.

Thomas came first, in 1848. He was a serious little boy, and he watched everything. Even at three he would stand at the edge of the room and study how a thing was done before he touched it. He's been that way all his life. When something needed fixing, Thomas was the one who thought it through, and I've leaned on him more than he knows. He's past sixty now, and I still see that watchful little boy when he comes through the door.

James, named for his father, came the next year. He was a different sort altogether, all noise and elbows. Where Thomas watched, James leapt. I lost count of the times I pulled him down from a wall or a cart or a haystack. The two of them were thick as thieves, though, and it was a comfort to me that they had each other. When I was at my loom in 1851, with those two boys underfoot and the cloth to finish, I'd hear James laughing and Thomas trying to keep him out of trouble, and I'd think, well, whatever else happens, they'll manage.

Then came our little Ann, in 1851. She was a sweet, quiet baby, and she lived only two years. I won't say much about that, except that I still think of her, and that she's part of this family as much as any of you. A mother doesn't stop counting her children just because one is gone.

Louisa came the next year, in 1852. She was a bright, sturdy little girl, and she began helping me almost before she could walk. She'd carry the clothespins, and later the pails, and later still the whole household when I was worn out. Louisa is the one who has stayed nearest to me. She's here with us now, and I'll tell you honestly that at my age, having her about the house is a great blessing.

Elizabeth Ann followed in 1854. She was the one with the voice. She sang everything, whether we wanted it or not: hymns, mostly, and anything else she'd picked up. On the hard days that voice could be a trial, but on the good days it was like having a bird in the house. When the Methodists sang, I could pick her out of the whole congregation.

Emma was born in 1856, and she was still a baby in arms when we left England. I'll come to that.

By 1851, I was twenty-six and still at my loom, and your grandfather and I would sit at night and talk about the same worry: there was never quite enough. We heard the letters from those who had gone across the sea, and we heard America was a place where a man could work his own land and keep what he earned. So we decided to go.

Your grandfather went first, in 1855, with my brother Samuel, to see what could be made of it. That left me to bring the children by myself. It was the hardest thing I ever did, and I'll tell you plainly I was afraid. In November of 1856, I boarded the ship Osprey at Glasgow with five little ones. Thomas was eight and James was seven. Louisa was four, Elizabeth was two, and Emma was hardly out of my arms. We were tossed about on the sea for weeks. Thomas took it upon himself to look after the younger ones, and I'll never forget how solemn he was about it. James, of course, wanted to see everything and had to be caught by the collar more than once. Louisa held Elizabeth's hand the whole way. And I held Emma, and I prayed, and I told myself that if I wasn't brave, at least I could look brave for the children. It's a trick I've used many times since.

When we came into New York harbor, I didn't cry, though I wanted to. I had no time to. There were children to count and bundles to gather. That's how it is with mothers.

We settled first in Burrillville, in Rhode Island, where your grandfather worked as a farm laborer. Somewhere in those years, we began to be called Richmond instead of Richman. Nobody made a great ceremony of it. It just took hold, the way a name will, and by 1860 it was ours.

It was in Burrillville that Hannah Rebecca was born, in 1858, the first of my children to be born on American soil. I gave her my own name, and she carried it well. She was quick and clever, and she had a way of making people feel they'd been waiting all day just to see her. She's been gone since 1907 now, and I won't pretend that's easy to say. A mother is not meant to outlive her children. But I'm glad I had her as long as I did, and I'm glad you children remember her.

There was a long stretch of years after that, and then John Henry arrived in 1865, and Charles Edwin the year after, in 1866. Those two were our late blessings, and they were close as twins. John Henry was the gentle one, always bringing home some stray creature or other. Charles Edwin was the one who talked. He could talk to anyone, and he'd have made a fine preacher if he'd had a mind to. They grew up together on this farm, running these same fields you play in now.

In 1866, we moved to Putnam, where your grandfather became the manager of the mill engine. I was forty-one, and I had six children at home, and I kept house and cooked and cleaned and washed and knitted, and I never once had an idle hour. The knitting was for everyone: stockings and mittens and scarves by the dozen, and I did most of it in the evenings by the lamp after the rest of the work was done. Some say a woman's work is nothing to be remembered, but I will tell you, children, that a house doesn't run itself. Somebody has to plan the meals, and mend the stockings, and know which child needs a scolding and which needs an arm around him. That was my part, while your grandfather did his.

Then in the early 1870s, we bought this farm from Nathaniel Battey, and the road we live on came to be called Richmond Road. Imagine that! A girl from a weaver's cottage in Wiltshire, and now there's a road with her name on it. Your grandfather ran the farm and the dairy, and I ran the house, and between us we made something that has lasted. When I look out the window at the fields in the morning light, I feel that it was all worth it.

My children grew and went out into the world, one after another, as children do. In 1880, there were four still at home, and by 1900 it was just your grandfather and me, with Louisa and John, and his wife Mary, plus whoever was visiting. But the house never stayed empty for long. Someone was always coming home for a Sunday, or a christening, or just to sit at the table. Emma would come and help me in the kitchen and we'd talk the whole time, hardly noticing the work. Thomas and James would arrive together, arguing over something or other, just as they did at eight and seven. Elizabeth would sing in the parlor. And John Henry and Charles Edwin would tease me until I laughed in spite of myself.

Now John Henry and his family live here with us, and Louisa too, and so I have a full house still, and great-grandchildren underfoot. I'm not complaining.

I want to tell you something now, and I want you to remember it. I've had a long life, and not an easy one, but a good one. The things that mattered were never the big things. They were the small things done faithfully: a meal on the table, a word of comfort, a prayer at night, a kindness to a neighbor. Share what you know with others. Love your family. Keep your faith. Be honest, and be kind, and work hard, and when you're tired, rest and be thankful.

I don't know how many more springs I'll see. But I've seen a great many, and each one has been a gift. Now bring me my shawl, dear, there's a chill coming in, and let's see if your grandfather has woken up. He'll want his tea.

And remember me, children. That's all I ask. Remember that I was here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is an imagined memoir. It is built on the documented facts of Hannah's life. The conversations, personalities, and small details of each child are invented to give those facts a voice.

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

The Video Overview of Hannah (Rich) Richmond's life memoir, created by the Google Gemini Notebook AI tool, is on my YouTube channel, and below:   

This is historical fiction, based on my own genealogical research and family records, along with social history and context for the time and place. It is what Hannah (Rich) Richmond might have told her grandchildren in 1911.  

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.

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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/2026/09/life-memoir-of-hannah-rich-richmond.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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The Monumental Brass of Henry Sever (c1420-1471) in Merton College at Oxford University -- (Not So) Wordless Wednesday #935

 This is a priceless (to me) image in my computer file folders from the Seaver family collection:


This photograph was taken in August 1993 in beautiful Oxford, England.  

Linda and I took a leisurely three-week trip to tour England on our own, depending on the train service, taxi rides, and a few friends. On the trip, we stayed overnight in London, York, Edinburgh, Derby, Oxford, Ashton-Keynes (Wiltshire), Bath, and back to London in hotels and B&Bs.  I pursued my genealogy research and we did a lot of sightseeing. 

In the photograph above, I am standing in the chapel of Merton College in Oxford University in Oxford, England. I wanted to see the grave of Dr. Henry Sever (c1420-1471), a Warden of Mertion College from 1455 to 1471.  I asked the student on duty at the entrance to the college to see the brass, and he knew where it was in the chapel, and had to turn the side of a large carpet to uncover it.

A monumental brass covers the grave of Henry, and is described by the Victoria and Albert Museum in London as:
"Rubbing of the brass effigy of Henry Sever, S.T.P, warden, depicted in a cope and postioned beneath a triple canopy. The effigy is accompanied by 2 shields and an inscription with 3 Latin verses."
Here is an image of the rubbing:

I have no indication that Dr. Henry Sever is my ancestor or relative, but I found the reference to him in a book way back in about 1989, and wanted to see it.  I just spent 20 minutes looking for mthe papers that I have about him and cannot find them -- they are probably buried in an obscure notebook or folder somewhere in my 60 feet of paper archives. 

We had only a film camera back in 1993, so the top image is not wonderful - I think Linda's hand or fingers is shown in the photograph too. 

NOTE:  I used the MyHeritage photo tools to sharpen and enhance this image.

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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, September 29, 2026

Genealogy News Bytes -- Week of 23 to 29 September 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 Research and Family History News Articles:












2)  DNA Testing and Genetic Genealogy

3)  Genealogy Book/Magazine Notices and Reviews:


*  Family Tree Magazine: October 2026 [Anglo-Celtic Connections]

4)  New or Updated Genealogy Digital Record Collections:






5)  Did you miss the last post in this series?  See Genealogy News Bytes - Week of 16 to 22 September 2026.


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


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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Emily and Lyle’s Story: Georgia Moves In, Late June 1918

 Here is the latest chapter in the story of the courtship and early married life and times of my maternal grandparents, Emily Auble and Lyle Carringer, who married in June 1918. The background information and the list of chapters of their life together are listed at the end of this post.  This is historical fiction with real people and real events, and is how it might have been.

And now we are up to 27 June 1918, and Georgia Auble, Emily's widowed mother, is moving in with Lyle and Emily.

I asked my AI Assistant Anthropic Claude to tell the story of Emily and Lyle about Georgia moving in and afterwards in late June 1918 (I offered helpful suggestions...).  

             (AI Google Notebook Infographic -- Georgia Moves In, Late June 1918)

Emily and Lyle's Story: Moving Georgia In, Late June 1918

Lyle’s liberty day on Thursday, 27 June 1918 was the day planned for moving Georgia’s “stuff” from First and Hawthorn into the house at 2064 Harrison Avenue. He made it to 30th Street on the trolley by 8 a.m. and Edgar and Davey were there with Austin.

Three of them -- Austin, Edgar, and Lyle — piled into the automobile and made their way toward First and Hawthorn, and Davey drove his own car, while Della and Abbie remained behind at 30th Street, the arrangement having sorted itself out without much discussion: the furniture-moving was men's work by tradition rather than necessity. Emily was at the Harrison Avenue house preparing for the additional furniture, kitchen items, and personal stuff.

Moving Georgia's Things

Georgia met them at the door with the particular efficiency of a woman who had been expecting exactly this and had already sorted the pieces to be moved from the pieces to remain. The bed frame from her room came apart with reasonable cooperation once Austin identified the right screws; the wardrobe proved heavier and more stubborn, requiring all four men and a certain amount of good-natured cursing from Edgar, who maintained throughout that the wardrobe had been built by someone with a personal grudge against movers.

"It came from Chicago," Georgia said, watching from the doorway with her arms folded, entirely unmoved by the men's struggles. "It has survived a great deal worse than your complaining, Edgar Carringer."

"I don't doubt it," Edgar said, wedging his shoulder beneath one corner. "I only wish it had grown lighter on the journey."

They loaded the automobiles in stages — the bed frame first, then a trunk of Georgia's remaining clothes and personal effects, then a small writing desk that Georgia said had belonged to her own husband and which she handled, when it came time to lift it, with rather more care than she'd shown the wardrobe, directing its placement in the automobile with unusual precision.

"That one goes in carefully," she said, and Austin, catching something in her tone, made certain it did.

Three trips between First and Hawthorn and Harrison Avenue saw the bulk of it moved by the time full dark had settled over the city — including Georgia's kitchen items and the last of the smaller boxes still waiting for a further trip before the thirtieth, but enough that the back bedroom at Harrison Avenue now held a bed and a wardrobe and a writing desk arranged, under Georgia's direction, in exactly the configuration she wanted before she'd even properly moved in.

"There," Georgia said, standing in the middle of her mostly-furnished room, looking satisfied. "That will do for tonight."

Austin wiped his forehead and surveyed the wardrobe's final position with the satisfaction of a job completed correctly. "It'll do for a good deal longer than tonight, I'd think."

"It will," Georgia agreed. "Thank you, Austin. And Edgar and Davey" She looked at Lyle last, and something in her expression softened slightly, the way it had softened at the wedding when she'd told Emily you'll do and meant considerably more by it than the words alone carried. "And thank you, Lyle. For the house. For all of it."

"You're part of the household now," Lyle said. "There's nothing to thank me for."

Georgia did not argue this, which from Georgia was its own form of agreement.

Austin and Davey drove everybody back to 2105 30th Street to have a quick dinner prepared by Della and Abbie. The dining room was fairly silent because they were tired. Lyle and Emily left soon after, taking the trolley and walking the final stretch to Harrison Avenue together, the June night warm and settled around them.

“Mother's room looked good," Emily said, as they walked. "Properly hers, already."

"She directed the whole operation from the doorway," Lyle said. "Four grown men and a wardrobe, entirely at her command."

"That sounds exactly right," Emily said, and laughed, and took his arm, and they walked the last two blocks home together — home now in the fullest sense, the house filling itself steadily with the furniture and the people who would make it, by month's end, entirely complete.

The Week

The week settled into a shape that Lyle recognized as the beginning of a pattern — the particular grammar of married life beginning to write itself into the calendar. Ten-hour days at the PX, the counter work now familiar enough that Lyle managed it with half his attention while the other half ran ahead to evening, to Harrison Avenue, to Emily's face when he came through the door. 

Marston's for Emily, six days as always, though she had privately begun negotiating in her mind — nothing decided yet, nothing said aloud even to Lyle — whether the accounting course Mrs. Hennessey's daughter had mentioned might be worth pursuing once the household had properly found its feet.

Georgia soon found the grocery store, drug store, sewing store, and other interesting places along Imperial Avenue near Harrison Street. When she was at home, she busied herself preparing the evening meal, working in the back garden, and meeting her new neighbors.

Evenings were new in a way that none of them had quite anticipated, even after eighteen months of imagining them. Dinner together with Georgia, prepared every night by Georgia with Emily helping, not just on a Liberty Thursday snatched from a week of separation. The dishes done together, more often than not, Emily washing and Lyle drying, an arrangement that emerged without discussion on the second night and simply continued because neither of them saw reason to change it.

Georgia usually retired soon after, writing letters at her desk in her room to her brothers and sisters, and reading books found over the years in bookstores from Chicago and San Diego.

Reading in the front room afterward, the lamp between Emily and Lyle, the particular quiet of two people who have run out of things that need saying and are simply glad of each other's presence.

"I keep waiting for it to feel less remarkable," Emily said on Friday evening, looking up from her book. "Just an ordinary Friday. And it still feels remarkable."

"I hope it always does," Lyle said. "Mother told me not to let marriage be the reason I stop noticing you. I'd like it if you kept noticing this too."

"I don't think I'll have much choice," Emily said. "You make it difficult not to notice."

By Saturday, the week's work had settled into something almost ordinary, and both of them found themselves, separately and without saying so to each other until later, looking forward to next Thursday — a full day together, the first since the honeymoon, before the Thursday tradition of 30th Street resumed its familiar shape.

To be continued...

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

Here is the Video Overview of this story by Google Gemini Notebook (also on my YouTube channel here):  

This is historical fiction based on the facts that are available for the life and family of my maternal grandparents, Lyle and Emily(Auble) Carringer.  It is based on my research, social history and society norms at the time and place, and it is likely realistic. It might have happened this way. 

Stay tuned for the next chapters in this family story.

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

The AI-assisted biography of my maternal grandmother is in ABC Biography of #7 Emily Kemp (Auble) Carringer (1899-1977) of Illinois and California. I wrote a story about her life in 1916 in Ask AI: Describe Emily Auble's Life After the Death of Her Father In 1916.

The AI-assisted biography of my maternal grandfather is in ABC Biography of #6 Lyle Lawrence Carringer (1891-1976) of San Diego, California. I wrote a story about Lyle being a young working man in 1916 being teased about being boring in Lyle's Story: Finding Courage in 1916-1917.

Then I wrote more chapters of their life together:                   
==============================================

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


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.

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