I wrote a genealogical sketch for my 3rd great-grandmother, Anna (Row) Auble (1787-1860) in 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks - Week 50: #57, Anna (Row) Auble (1787-1860).
1) Based on the genealogical sketch, I requested Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4 to create a memoir written by Emily (Auble) Carringer talking about her life in 1976. The prompt was: "Please write a memoir for Anna (Row) Auble, based on the attached genealogical sketch, as she might tell to her grandchildren in January 1860."
The AI Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4 memoir (lightly edited for accuracy) is:
My Story - As told by Anna (Row) Auble to her grandchildren, early 1860
Come close, my dear ones, and I'll tell you the story of my life—your grandmother's journey through seventy-three years in this world. As I sit here in Sophia's parlor in Stillwater, watching the snow fall on the hills of Sussex County, I think of all the changes I've witnessed, all the joys and sorrows that have shaped our family.
The Early Days in New Germantown
I was born in New Germantown, down in Hunterdon County, around 1787—though truth be told, we didn't keep track of such things as carefully then as folks do now. My father, Philip Row, was of German descent, and he married my mother, Maria Smith, in 1772. What a different world it was then! The Revolution was still fresh in everyone's memory, and we were all learning what it meant to be Americans.
Our house was always full of children and laughter. I was the third girl, after your great-aunts Mary and Elisabeth, and I had five brothers too—John Jacob, Peter, William, Phillip Johannes, and little Johannes. Eight of us in all! Mother had her hands full, but she managed us with love and a firm hand. We spoke German at home mostly, though we learned English for school and church.
Father worked hard on our land, and we children all had our chores. I learned to milk cows, churn butter, tend the kitchen garden, and help Mother with the endless washing and mending. In those days, a girl learned to be useful with her hands—we made our own soap, our own candles, spun our own thread. I can still remember the smell of the lye soap boiling in the big kettle outside.
Meeting Your Grandfather John
When I was just seventeen—imagine that, dear ones, younger than some of you are now!—I met John Abel at church. He was a kind man with gentle eyes, and when he smiled at me after service one Sunday, I felt my heart flutter like a bird in my chest. We courted properly, of course, with Father's permission, walking together after church and sitting on the porch under Mother's watchful eye.
John asked for my hand in the spring of 1804, and we were married on July 15th at the Zion Lutheran Church in New Germantown—the same church where you were all baptized. I wore my best dress, the blue one with the small flowers that Mother and I had worked on for months, and John wore his finest coat. The whole community came to celebrate with us, and we danced until the sun came up.
Oh, how happy we were in those early days! John found work, and we rented a small place near Green Township in Sussex County. The land was good there, with rolling hills and clear streams. We planted our first garden together, and I remember how proud we were of those tiny green shoots pushing up through the dark earth.
The Blessing of Children
The Lord blessed us with children, one after another, and each one was a miracle to me. First came Sophia in 1805—such a beautiful baby with dark hair and bright eyes. Then William in 1808, and Sarah in 1811. By the time Elizabeth came along in 1814, I was getting quite good at managing a household full of little ones.
David arrived in 1817, the same year my dear father passed away. It was a bitter-sweet time—welcoming new life while mourning the loss of the man who had given me life. Father left me five dollars in his will, and though it wasn't much, it meant the world to me that he remembered his Anna.
Nathan followed in 1820, and then our sweet Samuel in 1823. Samuel was such a gentle child, always helping with the younger ones, always ready with a smile. Then came Hampton in 1827, and finally our baby Robert in 1830. Nine children in all—can you imagine it? Some days I felt like a mother hen with more chicks than I could count!
Those were the happiest years of my life, watching them all grow, teaching them their letters, nursing them through childhood illnesses, celebrating their first steps and first words. The house was never quiet, never still. There was always someone needing attention, always laughter or tears or the sound of children playing.
The Dark Day That Changed Everything
But then came January 16, 1831—a day I'll never forget as long as I draw breath. Your grandfather John fell ill suddenly, and within hours, he was gone. Just like that, at fifty-one years old, he left us. I was forty-four and suddenly alone with nine children, the youngest just eight months old.
I won't lie to you, dear ones—those were the darkest days of my life. I wept until I had no more tears, and then I wept some more. How was I to manage? How was I to feed and clothe and raise all of them without John's strong hands and loving heart to help me?
But the Lord gives us strength when we need it most, and our family, neighbors and church family rallied around us. The men helped with the heavy work, and the women brought food and offered to take in the older children. But I couldn't bear to split up our family. "We'll stay together," I told them all. "Whatever happens, we Row-Aubles stick together."
The estate wasn't much—just $307 in personal property and some debts. No land of our own. But it was enough to get us through the first few months while I figured out how to make a living. I took in washing and mending, baked bread and pies to sell, anything to keep food on the table.
Watching My Children Grow and Fly
The years passed, and one by one, I watched my children grow into fine men and women. Sophia was the first to marry, taking Alley Foster as her husband, and later, after Alley died, she found love again with Seth Hulse. It did my heart good to see her happy and settled.
William moved to Philadelphia and found work there, marrying his Tamsen and starting his own family. Sarah wed Elijah Schoonover and blessed me with six grandchildren. Elizabeth, my dear Elizabeth, chose never to marry but made her own way in the world. She's doing well in Philadelphia and has been so generous to the family.
David married his Sarah Knapp and gave me six more grandchildren and lives now in Newark – I wish he would come see me more often! Nathan settled in Philadelphia with his Julia and their eight children—eight! Just like his mother, he's been blessed with a full house.
My sweet Samuel was taken from us too young, at just twenty-one. An assault and knife wound took him in Philadelphia, and I grieved for months. A mother never expects to outlive her children, and that pain never truly leaves your heart.
Hampton found his Louisa in Lancaster and they've given me three more grandchildren to love. And my baby Robert—now thirty years old, can you believe it?—married his Ellen just a few years ago and they're expecting their third child any day now.
These Autumn Years
As I've grown older, the work has become harder, and my Sophia kindly invited me to live here with her and Seth. It's peaceful here in Stillwater, and I love being close to little Euphemia—Sophia's daughter from her first marriage. She reminds me so much of Sophia at that age, all curiosity and energy.
I've lived to see this country grow from a young republic into something strong and proud. I've seen the canals built and the railroads come through. I've watched our little towns grow into cities. I've seen my German neighbors learn English and become Americans, just as we all did.
But mostly, I've seen love multiply. Seven of my nine children have brought love into the world through their own families. You grandchildren are my greatest joy—each of you carrying a piece of your grandfather John and me into the future.
What I Want You to Remember
As I near the end of my time here, there are things I want you to remember about your grandmother Anna. Remember that love is the strongest force in the world—stronger than poverty, stronger than loss, stronger than any hardship you might face. I loved your grandfather John with all my heart for twenty-seven years, and I've carried that love with me for thirty years since he died.
Remember that family is everything. When the world turns cold, when troubles come, you turn to family. You help each other, you forgive each other, you stand together no matter what. That's what we Row-Aubles do.
Remember to work hard and be honest. Nothing in this life comes easy, but if you put your hands to good work and keep your word, you'll make your way just fine. I've washed clothes until my knuckles bled and baked bread before dawn, but I've never been ashamed of honest work.
Remember to have faith. The Lord has carried me through the darkest valleys and blessed me with more joy than any one woman deserves. When you're scared or lonely or don't know which way to turn, you pray. You trust that there's a plan bigger than what you can see.
And remember me not as the old woman sitting in this chair, but as the young girl who danced at her wedding, as the grandmother who kissed your scraped knees and sang you to sleep, as the woman who loved her family more than life itself.
The seasons of life turn just like the seasons of the year. I've had my spring of youth, my summer of motherhood, my autumn of watching grandchildren grow. Now winter is coming for me, but spring will come again for all of you.
Take my stories with you, dear ones. Tell them to your children and your children's children. Let them know that they come from people who loved deeply, worked hard, and never gave up hope. Let them know that Anna Row Auble lived a good life and loved her family with every beat of her heart.
That's my legacy to you—not money or land, but love. Love that started with your great-grandfather Philip and your great-grandmother Maria, love that grew in that little house in New Germantown, love that bloomed when I married your grandfather John, love that multiplied with each child born to us, and love that will go on long after I'm resting in Harmony Hill Cemetery.
Remember me with love, and carry that love forward. That's all an old grandmother can ask.As told in Stillwater, Sussex County, New Jersey, in the winter of 1860, just months before Anna's peaceful passing that June.
2) Here is the Audio Overview for Anna (Row) Auble's life provided by Google NotebookLM. And here is the Video Overview provided by Google NotebookLM:
3) I think that these relatively short memoirs are poignant and will be interesting to her family members, especially to her descendants, and especially to me.
This format provides a different perspective than a biography, doesn't it? It is historical fiction, but many of the historical facts from the genealogical sketch are included and it rings true to me.
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!
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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.
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