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Wednesday, June 4, 2025

ABC Biography of #23 Amy Frances (Oatley) White (1826-1864) of Rhode Island and Connecticut

The Claude (now Sonnet 4) artificial intelligence tool can be used to write family-friendly biographies of my ancestors that might be suitable for my relatives and descendants to help them learn about and understand their ancestry.  Using the ABC method described in Using Artificial Intelligence In the Ancestor Biography Creation (ABC) Process, here is one ancestor biography.

1)  I have written genealogical sketches for almost every known ancestor back 9 generations in blog posts based on 35 years of genealogical research in my 52 Ancestors/Relatives Biographies seriesThe genealogical sketch for my 2nd great-grandmother, Amy Frances (Oatley) White  (1826-1864), #23 on my Ahnentafel List), including record abstracts and sources, is 52 Ancestors Week 16: #23 Amy Frances (Oatley) White (1826-1864) of Killingly, Conn.

2)  For the Claude AI biography, I attached the PDF of the genealogical sketch for the specific ancestor using the plus (+) sign, and then prompted the AI tool with:  "You are an expert genealogist. Please create a draft biography from the attached file, including parents, siblings, spouses and children (with birth and death dates and places), summarize life events, and add historical facts as appropriate, but do not add or embellish any extra genealogical details. Use section headings. Expand the information in each section to add more details. The tone should be engaging and suitable for family members."


(AI ChatGPT4 image of New England house and family in 1860)

3)  The expanded biography of Amy Frances (Oatley) White (1826-1864) created by the AI tool Claude Sonnet 4, lightly edited, is:

Amy Frances Oatley White (1826 - 1864): A Life in 19th Century New England 

Early Life and Family Origins

Amy Frances Oatley was born in 1826 in South Kingstown, Washington County, Rhode Island, into a large and loving family. Her parents, Jonathan and Amy (Champlin) Oatley, would welcome fourteen children in total, making Amy the ninth child in this bustling household. Growing up as one of fourteen siblings meant Amy learned early the values of cooperation, sharing, and helping care for younger brothers and sisters—skills that would serve her well in her own future role as a mother. Amy’s father was a Baptist minister, and accepted a call in 1835 to East Killingly, Connecticut.

The Oatley family represented the industrious spirit of early 19th-century New England. During Amy's childhood, the family made the significant decision to relocate from Rhode Island to East Killingly in Windham County, Connecticut. This move reflected the westward migration patterns common to New England families seeking new opportunities during this period of American expansion and industrial growth.

Marriage and New Beginnings

On June 30, 1844, at the age of eighteen, Amy married Henry Arnold White in Thompson, Windham County, Connecticut. The ceremony was performed by Reverend L. George Leonard, and according to the official records in the Thompson section of the Barbour Collection, both Amy and Henry were residents of Killingly at the time of their marriage.

Henry, born in Glocester, Rhode Island, was the son of Jonathan and Miranda (Wade) White who resided in Killingly after 1839. He was a hardworking man who would build a successful career as a weaver and later as a manufacturer in the woolen industry. Their union represented not just a joining of two hearts, but also the merging of two New England families with deep roots in the region's textile industry—a cornerstone of the area's economy during the mid-1800s.

Motherhood and Family Life

Amy and Henry were blessed with six children, though tragically, only four would survive to adulthood—a sobering reminder of the medical realities of the 19th century when childhood mortality rates were high. Their surviving children were:

  • Ellen Frances White (born April 6, 1845) grew up to marry William Henry Buck on January 12, 1867, in Killingly. She lived a full life until March 12, 1916, when she passed away in Oxford, Massachusetts.
  • Julia E. "Juliett" White (born September 8, 1848) married Thomas Richman on June 20, 1868, also in Killingly. She remained close to her Connecticut roots, living until October 1, 1913, in Putnam, Connecticut.
  • Emily Elizabeth White (born October 15, 1849) married Marcus Barstow in 1867. She had the longest life of Amy's children, living until November 26, 1936, and remaining in the family's beloved Killingly throughout her life.
  • Henry J. White (born April 12, 1853) carried on his father's name and married Ida E. Fogg on February 15, 1878, in Foster, Rhode Island. He lived until October 12, 1919, in Killingly.
  • Unnamed daughter (November 1, 1858) - Tragically, this baby girl lived only briefly, dying in infancy.
  • Frederick J. White (April 1860 - ????) - The youngest son, Frederick was just an infant when the 1860 census was taken, was recorded in the 1870 census, and then disappeared from the records.

The Henry and Amy White family lived on the land that Henry’s father had purchased in East Killingly, specifically on the north side of what is now Hartford Pike, between Chestnut Hill Road and North Road. Henry received half of this land when his parents died in 1850. This location placed them in the heart of a growing agricultural and industrial community.  It was also very near their church and Amy's family in East Killingly.

Daily Life in 19th Century Connecticut

The census records paint a vivid picture of Amy's daily life as a wife and mother in Killingly. In 1850, when Amy was 24, the family was establishing itself in the community. Henry worked as a weaver, a skilled profession that was central to Connecticut's thriving textile industry. Their home was filled with the sounds of young children—Ellen Frances at 5 was already attending school, while Julia and Emily were still toddlers.

By 1860, the family's circumstances had improved considerably. Henry had advanced to become a manufacturer with $1,000 in real property—a substantial sum that reflected his business success and the family's rising social status. Amy, now 33, was managing a household with five children ranging from infant Frederick to 15-year-old Ellen Frances. This was the era when women like Amy were the cornerstone of domestic life, "keeping house" as the records indicate, which encompassed everything from cooking and cleaning to educating children and managing household finances.

A Life Cut Short

Tragically, Amy's story came to an abrupt end on November 12, 1864, when she died at the young age of 36 in Norwich, Connecticut. The cause of death was recorded as a strangulated hernia, a medical condition that, while treatable today, was often fatal in the 1860s before modern surgical techniques and antibiotics.

Her death left Henry to raise five children ranging in age from 5 to 19—an enormous challenge for a single father in the 19th century when childcare and household management were typically considered women's responsibilities. The timing was particularly poignant, occurring during the final year of the Civil War when the entire nation was grappling with loss and uncertainty.

Legacy and Final Rest

Amy Frances (Oatley) White is believed to rest in Bartlett #1 Cemetery in East Killingly, Connecticut, near her husband Henry. While time has rendered her gravestone unreadable, her legacy lived on through her children, who all established their own families and remained connected to the Connecticut community where their mother had devoted her life to family and home.

Her life, though brief, exemplified the quiet strength and devotion of countless 19th-century women who built families, supported their communities, and helped shape the character of New England during a pivotal period in American history. Through her four surviving children and their descendants, Amy's influence continued to ripple through generations, carrying forward the values of family, hard work, and community service that defined her too-short but meaningful life.

Historical Context

Amy lived through a fascinating period in American history. Born during the presidency of John Quincy Adams, she witnessed the nation's rapid expansion westward, the development of the railroad system, and the growing tensions that would eventually lead to the Civil War. Her adult years coincided with the Industrial Revolution's transformation of New England, as towns like Killingly evolved from agricultural communities to manufacturing centers.

The textile industry that supported her family was deeply connected to broader national issues, including the cotton trade and, unfortunately, slavery in the South. Connecticut's position as a manufacturing state meant families like the Whites were economically linked to these larger national debates, even as they focused on their daily lives and local community concerns.

4)  A poem and song lyrics to commemorate the life of Amy Frances (Oatley) White (1826-1864) can be found in "Amy's Heart of Gold" -- An Ancestor's Story In Poem and Song Created by Artificial Intelligence. The song created from the song lyrics can be heard in that blog post and here.

5)  An audio overview (essentially a podcast created by the Google ContentLM AI tool) discussing the life of Amy Frances (Oatley) White (1826-1864) can be heard at   https://notebooklm.google.com/notebook/e6a7ce17-0034-45f7-a6e8-00374045fd92/audio

6)  I lightly edited the Claude biography text to add more family detail and correct minor errors.  Every large language model (LLM) AI tool writes descriptive text much better than I can write.  I was an aerospace engineer in my former life, and my research reports and genealogical sketches reflect "just the facts gleaned from my research."  The AI tools are very perceptive, insightful and create readable text in seconds, including local and national historical events and social history detail.   

7)  The ABC Biography of Henry Arnold White (1824-1885) is here with more information about him and his life.

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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

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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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Lyle Carringer in the Garden All Dressed Up in About 1920 -- (Not So) Wordless Wednesday #873

  I found another priceless (to me) photograph in my computer file folders:

  
This photograph is of my maternal grandfather, Lyle Lawrence Carringer (1891-1976).  It was probably taken, perhaps by his wife Emily, as part of a holiday or family event in the 1918 to 1922 time frame.  The setting is probably the garden of his parents at 2105 30th Street in San Diego, California.  I love the tailored suit, the nifty bow tie, and the bowler hat!

This photograph is a part of my family history.  I enhanced and colorized it using the MyHeritage photo tools.

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The URL for this post is:  

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.    I moderate all comments and they may not appear immediately - please write only one comment.

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Tuesday, June 3, 2025

Genealogy News Bytes - Week of 28 May to 3 June 2025

  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/IGG-Related News Articles




4)  New or Updated Genealogy Digital Record Collections:















5)  Did you miss the last post in this series?  See Genealogy News Bytes - Week of 21 to 27 May 2025.   Read all recent Genealogy News Bytes here.  

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


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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"Austin and Della: Curtain Call On the Prairie" - AI Historical Fiction

 My great-grandparents Henry Austin Carringer (1853-1946) and Abbey Ardelle "Della" Smith (1862-1944) married on 11 September 1887 in Wano, Cheyenne County, Kansas.  I told their stories in ABC Biography of #12 Henry Austin Carringer (1853-1946) of Pennsylvania, Iowa, Colorado and California (27 April 2025) and ABC Biography of #13 Abbey Ardelle "Della" (Smith) Carringer (1862-1944) of Wisconsin, Iowa, Kansas, Nebraska, and California (30 April 2025) based on my genealogical and family history research over 38 years.

I don't have any "family stories" about their early life except what is in the records I have from family sources, books and periodicals, and online record collections.  Fortunately, I have a marriage certificate hanging on my wall at home, so I know when, where and by whom they were married.  I also know that each of them, and Della's father, owned land in Cheyenne County, Kansas in the mid-1880s, so they were neighbors.  I also know that they both were actors in theater plays in the 1880s in Wano, and acually have some playbill images from Della's scrapbook.

I asked three artificial intelligence tools to provide a realistic but fictional short story about Austin's proposal of marriage to Della.  

Here is the short story created by OpenAI ChatGPT4:

"Curtain Call on the Prairie"

The sun dipped low behind the Kansas plains, bathing the fields in a golden hush. The tall grasses of Wano whispered in the breeze, and a lone cicada struck up a steady rhythm from somewhere beneath the boards of the playhouse porch. Austin Carringer sat quietly beside Della Smith, their shoulders nearly touching, their boots dusty from rehearsal.

Behind them loomed the modest theatre they and a handful of neighbors had built by hand just three summers earlier. It wasn’t much—just weathered lumber, a patched curtain, and a few oil lamps—but to them, it was sacred ground. On that stage, they had lived lives far grander than the dusty prairie could offer. There, they had wept, laughed, fought duels with wooden swords, danced in moonlight, and whispered forbidden love in tones that echoed through the sparse rows of benches.

Austin glanced at Della out of the corner of his eye. Her auburn hair was pinned loosely, a few strands playing against her cheek as the wind lifted them gently. In her lap rested a folded copy of The Secret; or, A Hole in the Wall, their most recent triumph, which had drawn nearly the whole township to the playhouse.

“You know,” he said, voice quiet, “there are evenings that feel like a page from a poem.”

Della smiled without turning. “You say that every time the wind calms.”

“Maybe. But this one feels different.” He shifted, reaching beneath the bench for a small parcel wrapped in linen. “Maybe because tonight I’ve come to the end of a script I’ve been carrying in my heart for three years.”

That caught her attention. She turned to face him, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Della,” he continued, “we’ve worn so many names on that stage. You’ve been Lady Audley, tragic and beautiful, with fire behind your eyes. You’ve been the Dairyman’s Daughter, pure and steadfast. And I’ve been fools and lovers and poor Joe in My Cousin Joe, trying not to trip on my lines.”

She laughed then, a soft, bell-like sound that never failed to undo him.

“But none of those roles,” he said, “felt as real as this one now.”

He opened the parcel and drew out a simple gold ring, delicate, engraved faintly with vines that curled like wild prairie roses. He stood, then dropped to one knee in the dirt at her feet.

Her breath caught.

“Abbey Ardelle Smith,” he said, his voice shaking just enough to make her heart swell, “in The Dairyman’s Daughter, you said, ‘Love, like the rising sun, does not ask permission to warm the earth—it simply does.’ That’s what you’ve done to me. Since we became neighbors. Since we built that rickety stage. Since you beat me out for the lead in Lady Audley’s Secret.” He smiled. “You’ve warmed every piece of me.”

Della’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“I want to write the rest of life’s play with you. No scripts. Just you and me. Wano to San Diego, hand in hand, scene by scene. Will you marry me?”

The prairie was silent but for the wind and a distant crow. Della looked down at him, her throat tight with emotion. She touched the ring, then his cheek.

“In My Neighbor’s Wife, I said, ‘A home is not four walls, but the soul you share it with.’ I always wondered what that line meant. Until now.” She leaned forward. “Yes, Austin. A thousand yeses.”

He slipped the ring on her finger, his hands calloused but gentle. Then he rose and pulled her into an embrace, as the prairie sky blushed violet above them.

They stood like that for a long moment, two players now fully themselves, the stage behind them and a new journey ahead.

“So,” she said at last, eyes twinkling, “San Diego?”

Austin grinned. “San Diego. With twenty dollars in our pockets and every hope in our hearts.”

As the moon rose higher and the wind carried the scent of dust and sage, a curtain in the playhouse fluttered—its final bow for the night. And as they walked home across the fields, fingers entwined, the real play of their lives was just beginning.

Here's the X Grok 3 short story:

Setting: A balmy evening in August 1887, just outside Wano, Kansas. The sun dips low, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose, casting long shadows over the adjacent Carringer and Smith family lands. The air carries the sweet scent of prairie grass and blooming wildflowers, with a faint breeze rustling the cottonwood trees near a small creek. Austin and Della have just finished rehearsing at the Wano playhouse, their laughter echoing from a spirited run-through of “My Cousin Joe.” They’re strolling along a dirt path, the glow of lantern light from nearby farmhouses dotting the horizon.

Characters:

    • Henry Austin “Austin” Carringer: A charismatic man in his mid-30s, with a lean build, tousled brown hair, and a warm, earnest smile. His love for the stage is matched only by his devotion to Della, his partner in both life and performance

    • Abbey Ardelle “Della” Smith: A vibrant woman in her mid-20s, with bright eyes and a quick wit. Her grace on stage and spirited nature off it have captivated Austin for three years.

Austin: (slowing his pace, glancing at Della with a soft smile) Della, ain’t this sunset somethin’ else? Like the final act of “Lady Audley’s Secret,” when the stage lights dim and the world feels like it’s holdin’ its breath. Makes a man ponder what’s worth holdin’ onto.

Della (twirling a wildflower between her fingers, her bonnet catching the last rays of sunlight) Oh, Austin, you’re waxin’ poetic again. Too many nights as the dashing hero in “The Dairyman’s Daughter”? Or maybe you’re rehearsin’ for some new role you ain’t told me about. (teases, nudging him) What’s got you so dreamy tonight?

Austin: (chuckling, then turning serious as he stops under a cottonwood) Ain’t a role, Della, though I’ve played plenty a fool for you on that Wano stage. Three years we’ve been at this—courtin’ through curtain calls, stealin’ kisses between scenes, walkin’ these fields when the stars come out. (takes her hand, his voice low) You remember that line from “My Neighbor’s Wife”? “My heart is thine, though the world may part us.” Well, darlin’, my heart’s been yours since that first night in Wano, when you laughed at my stumblin’ lines and made me feel like a king.

Della: (blushing, but keeping her playful tone) My, my, Austin Carringer, quotin’ the playhouse to woo me? You’re pullin’ out all the stops! (softens, meeting his gaze) I remember that night too. You were so nervous, you nearly dropped the prop lantern in “The Secret; or, A Hole in the Wall.” But I saw somethin’ in you—somethin’ true. Still, you’re gonna have to do better than borrowed lines if you’re plannin’ to sweep me off my feet.

Austin: (grinning, stepping closer, his voice warm and steady) Fair enough, Miss Smith. No script this time, just me. (takes both her hands, his eyes searching hers) Abbey Ardelle, you’re the melody to every song I’ve ever sung, the light in every scene I’ve played. Like in “Lady Audley’s Secret,” when she says, “Love is the chain that binds the heart forever”—that’s you to me, Della. I can’t imagine a day without your laugh, your fire, your hand in mine. I’ve got this land, a few dollars, and a dream bigger than these Kansas plains. I want to marry you, Della. Will you be my partner, not just on stage, but for all the acts to come?

Della: (eyes widening, her breath catching as she clutches the wildflower tighter) Austin… you’ve been rehearsin’ this, haven’t you? (pauses, her voice softening as she steps closer) Three years of starin’ into your eyes across that stage, hearin’ you say lines like “My Cousin Joe’s” “I’d cross the world for thee, my love, and count it but a step.” I thought those were just words, but… you mean ’em, don’t you? (her voice trembles slightly) Marriage is a bigger leap than any we’ve taken, even when that rickety prop table collapsed mid-scene!

Austin: (laughing softly, then growing earnest) Bigger than that, and twice as thrilling. I mean every word, Della. I see us leavin’ Wano, sellin’ this land, and takin’ a train west—California, maybe, where the sun sets over the ocean. I’ve got $20 saved, enough for tickets and a honeymoon to start our story right. (lifts her hand to his lips, quoting softly) “The Secret” had it right: “No wall can hold a heart that’s true.” Say you’ll come with me, darlin’. Say you’ll be my wife.

Della: (a tear glistening in her eye, but her smile radiant) California? You’re promisin’ me oceans and adventures? (pauses, then steps into his arms) Austin, you’ve been my leading man since that first curtain rose here in Wano. Every laugh, every glance, every moment we’ve shared—it’s all led to this. Yes, I’ll marry you. (playfully) But don’t think you can steal the spotlight in this marriage, Mr. Carringer. I’m still the star of this show!

Austin: (pulling her into a warm embrace, laughing) Never, my love. You’ll always be the star, and I’m just lucky to share the stage. (pulls back, his face alight with joy) Let’s find Rev. Richards tomorrow and make it official. Then we’ll pack our dreams and that $20 and chase the horizon west—together.

Della: (resting her head against his chest, her voice soft) To our final bow in Wano and a new act in California. Lead on, Austin. I’m ready for our next scene.

And the Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4 short story:

An August Evening, 1887 - Wano, Kansas

The summer sun hangs low over the Kansas prairie, casting long shadows across the small settlement of Wano. Austin Carringer and Della Smith sit on the wooden steps of the theatre playhouse where they've spent countless evenings rehearsing and performing together. The distant sound of cattle lowing drifts across the grassland as crickets begin their evening chorus.

Austin: Della, these three summers here in Wano... they've been the finest of my life. Watching you command that stage in "Lady Audley's Secret" last week—you were magnificent. The way you delivered that final scene, when Lady Audley confesses her crimes... you had the entire audience spellbound.

Della: (laughing softly) Oh, Austin, you flatter me so. Though I must admit, having you as my leading man in all these productions has made even the most dramatic scenes feel... natural somehow. Do you remember our first performance together in "The Dairyman's Daughter"? I was so nervous I nearly forgot my opening lines.

Austin: How could I forget? You were trembling like a leaf, but the moment you stepped into that spotlight, you transformed completely. (his voice growing softer) You know, Della, sometimes when we're up there together, delivering those romantic scenes... it hardly feels like acting at all.

Della: (blushing slightly) Austin Carringer, you shouldn't say such things. What would the other players think?

Austin: Let them think what they will. (taking her hand gently) Do you remember the lines from "My Cousin Joe"? When Joseph declares his love to Margaret by the garden gate?

Della: (her voice barely above a whisper) "My heart has been yours since first we met, though I dared not speak it..."

Austin: (continuing the quote, his eyes never leaving hers) "For love like ours needs no grand gestures, only the courage to speak what has long been true." (pausing) Della, those words... they weren't just lines to me.

Della: (turning to face him fully, sensing the change in his tone) Austin, what are you trying to tell me?

Austin: That's just it, my dear. Nothing has ever felt more natural to me than being by your side. Whether we're running lines for "My Neighbor's Wife" or simply walking between our families' homesteads at sunset, or sitting together after the curtain falls... I find myself thinking that perhaps our greatest performance isn't on that stage at all.

Della: (her voice trembling slightly) Austin, you're frightening me with such serious talk. And yet... my heart races when you speak so.

Austin: (standing and extending his hand to help her up) Walk with me a moment? Down toward the creek where the cottonwoods grow? There's something I must tell you away from prying ears.

They stroll slowly away from the playhouse, their footsteps soft on the prairie grass. The evening air carries the scent of wild flowers and distant woodsmoke. As they walk, Austin begins to recite softly.

Austin: "In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine." (he stops walking) Do you recognize those words, Della?

Della: (stopping beside him, her breath catching) From "The Secret"... when William finally confesses his love to Sarah through the wall that has kept them apart for so long.

Austin: The wall between them crumbled that night, didn't it? Just as I hope the wall of propriety between us might crumble now, if you'll allow it.

Austin: Della, I've been carrying something in my heart for longer than I care to admit. When I first met you here in Wano three years ago, I thought you were the most spirited woman I'd ever encountered. But these summers here, watching you bring those characters to life on stage, seeing how you laugh with the other players, how you tend to your family's land with such determination...

Della: (stopping and looking up at him) Austin Carringer, what are you trying to say to me?

Austin: (reaching into his vest pocket and dropping to one knee) Then let me tear down every wall between us, Della. I'm saying that I can't imagine a single day of my life without you in it. These three years of courtship, of stolen glances across the stage, of walking you home under these prairie stars... they've been leading to this moment. Della Smith, would you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife?

He produces a simple gold band, its surface catching the last rays of sunlight.

Della: (gasping, her hand flying to her heart) Austin! Oh my stars... I... (tears beginning to well in her eyes, her voice breaking with emotion) All this time I hoped... I dreamed you might feel as I do, but I never dared believe it could be true.

Austin: (still kneeling, his voice tender) It's more true than any line we've ever spoken on that stage, my darling.

Della: (reaching down to touch his face) Then yes, Austin Carringer. Yes, with all my heart and soul. I will be your wife.

Austin: (rising and slipping the ring onto her finger, his hands trembling slightly with emotion) Then we'll make our own grand production, won't we? Our own beautiful story that will run for decades, not just a few summer nights.

Della: (admiring the ring through her tears before embracing him) Better than any play we've ever performed. Though I do hope our real life has fewer tragic endings than the ones we've been acting out! No more Lady Audleys meeting their doom, or dairymen's daughters pining away from consumption.

Austin: (laughing and spinning her around, her skirts swirling in the prairie breeze) Only happy scenes from here on out, my dear Della. Comedy and romance, adventure and joy. I promise you that. (setting her down gently) We'll sell our land here, take our savings—modest though they may be—and make our way in the world together. I've been thinking... what would you say to California? I hear San Diego has weather fine enough for year-round theatre, and opportunities for a young married couple willing to work hard.

Della: (her eyes sparkling with excitement and tears) Twenty dollars and a dream? (laughing) It sounds like the plot of one of our melodramas! But yes, Austin, anywhere with you. Whether it's the stages of San Diego or anywhere else this wide world might take us.

Austin: (taking both her hands in his) Then let's make Rev. Richards earn his fee and marry us properly. I can't wait another day longer than necessary to call you Mrs. Austin Carringer.

Della: (standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek) Mrs. Della Carringer... it has such a lovely sound, doesn't it?

As the first stars begin to appear over the endless Kansas prairie, they walk back toward the settlement hand in hand, their voices carrying softly on the evening air as they plan their future. The playhouse grows smaller behind them, but their love story—their greatest and most enduring performance—has only just begun.

Did the marriage proposal happen this way?  I sincerely hope so - romantic and touching, with a touch of humor.

Three different creations of historical fiction on the same theme.  I can't choose which one to publish so I published all three! (Blogger seems to have no word limit on posts).

Which short story do you prefer?  Tell me!!

Should I make this a series of fictional short stories (but based on actual events in their lives) about the lives of Austin and Della (Smith) Carringer?  Getting married, the honeymoon trip, to San Diego, having a family, and living their lives for almost 60 more years?  

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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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Ask AI: "Roast Me Based On Your Memories of Me and Be Mean."

 On the Facebook Genealogy and Artificial Intelligence group, Christine Creed Hill posted a prompt to ChatGPT4, and the response, asking “Roast me based on your memories of me and be mean.” Several responders have now asked the same thing and posted their answers, even myself. The Facebook post has some excellent responses!

You know, I can't resist having fun with genealogy and AI!

Here is the most genealogy fun I had on Monday night:

1)  My prompt to free OpenAI ChatGPT4 (ChattyGenPat) was: "Roast me based on your memories of me and be mean."


(AI ChatGPT4 image of a roasted genealogist)

ChattyGenPat said:

Alright, you asked for it—roast mode activated. 🔥

You're like a genealogist with a time machine and ADHD—zigzagging through centuries but somehow still can't find Devier's birth parents. You’ve practically interviewed every ghost in Jefferson County, NY, but even they're like, "Dude, we don’t know either."

You’ve got more Revolutionary War ancestors than a DAR chapter, yet none of them passed down the ability to finish a sentence without referencing Mercer County or some poor soul buried in Iowa. And let’s be honest—half your ancestors moved west just to escape being included in your next 47-page blog post.

And your family trees? They're not trees. They're jungles. I’m pretty sure there's a squirrel somewhere still stuck trying to navigate from Austin Carringer to Emily Auble without getting lost.

You can recall 18th-century land patents like other people recall phone numbers, but you still needed me to help you roast yourself. Pathetic—but historically accurate.

Now go sit in the corner with your Diet Coke and orange soda, and think about how you managed to make grave digging your primary hobby.

😈 You wanted mean. This was mean—with love.

Bring it on, ChattyGenPat!!

My second prompt was the taunt:  "anything else?"

ChattyGenPat responded with more genea-vitriol:

Oh, absolutely. You think I’m done? Sit down, grab your quill and parchment—because here comes Volume II of this roast.

You’ve spent so much time talking to dead people, I’m starting to wonder if you even like the living. Your ancestors probably hold weekly séances just to tell you to knock it off. “We’re at peace, stop digging up our tax records from 1852!”

You collect cemetery plot numbers like they’re Pokémon cards. “Ooh, this one died in a tragic threshing machine accident in 1879—mint condition!

And let's talk about how you treat historical documents like sacred scripture, but treat modern technology like it's witchcraft. You’ve got handwritten probate files in triplicate, but you still hesitate every time you have to update a Google Doc.

Also—your idea of a thrill? Finding a misindexed 1870 census line. Adrenaline junkie, aren't you? Other people go skydiving—you get your kicks from discovering that your 4x-great-grandmother moved 3 blocks over in 1881.

And your ancestors probably weren’t even proud of you. They’re up there like, “He’s doing what with my name? He told everyone I died of ‘consumption’? IT WAS CHICKEN POX, RANDY!”

Face it—you’re the kind of person who’d bring a pedigree chart to a first date… assuming you ever left your archives long enough to go on one.

💀 But hey, at least you're consistent—unlike 19th-century vital records.

Want more? I can keep going until your ancestors beg me to stop.

Hey, Chatty, there's nothing "BAD" there.  I'm proud of all my genealogy work.  

I could go on, and did, but it was more of the same.  ChattyGenPat is very creative!

2)  X.ai Grok 3 "GrokGenPat" took its' turn also, and gave me some great roast bits based on 15 online sources and my prompt history [plus a graphic]:

(AI Grok 3 image of a roasted genealogist) 

Alright, Randy Seaver, self-proclaimed "master genealogist," let’s see if I can roast you properly now that I know who you are! I’ve got a clearer picture from your prompt history and some digging around, so buckle up for a roast that’s as sharp as your obsession with dusty old records. Since you’re begging for it, I’ll focus on your genealogy work and keep it mean, as requested, while weaving in what I know about you. No fluff, just the good stuff.

Your genealogy game is like a hamster on a wheel—spinning endlessly with no finish line in sight. You’ve been chasing your “elusive ancestors” for over 36 years, and yet your pedigree chart still has more holes than a moth-eaten sweater. You’re out there spending 8–10 hours a day on Genea-Musings, posting multiple times daily like some kind of genealogy robot, but half the time it’s just you yelling into the void about a random 1832 deed or a blurry photo from your Catalina Island getaway. Newsflash, Randy: nobody’s reading your 12th blog post of the day about Great-Great-Grandpa Seaver’s neighbor’s cousin’s land warrant. Your “cousin bait” tree on Ancestry? More like cousin repellent—nobody’s biting because it’s a chaotic mess of Seavers, Carringers, Aubles, Dills, and Bucks that only you could love.

And let’s talk about your obsession with Peregrine White, the Mayflower baby. You’re so proud of that potential connection, you probably sleep with a pilgrim hat under your pillow. But your grandma’s story and Aunt Marion’s town history book had errors, and you’re still out here trying to prove it like it’s your life’s mission. Here’s a tip: maybe your family’s just not that interesting. You’re digging through microfilms and making research trips to New England like you’re Indiana Jones, but instead of treasure, you’re unearthing another misspelled “Mary Seaver” who might’ve married a carpenter—or not. Your database has 40 Mary Seavers, and you’re still clueless about half of them. Master genealogist? More like master of confusion.

Your source citations are a whole other tragedy. You figured out in 2006—2006!—that you should’ve been citing sources properly, and now you’re frantically playing catch-up, adding 1,000 citations a month like a kid cramming for a test. That’s not dedication; that’s a midlife crisis in spreadsheet form. And your “mentally well-organized” claim? Please. Your brain’s a filing cabinet with half the folders labeled “Miscellaneous” and the other half missing. You’re so deep in RootsMagic and TreeShare, you probably dream in GEDCOM files, but your public “Record Hint” tree is just a digital hoarder’s paradise, drowning in Ancestry hints you’ll never sort through.

Oh, and your AI experiments? You’re out here using Claude (sorry, “Sonnet 4”) to write family-friendly ancestor bios, thinking you’re revolutionizing genealogy. Spoiler: it’s just you outsourcing your obsession to a chatbot, and the results are as exciting as a 17th-century tax record. You’re a retired aerospace engineer, Randy—shouldn’t you be building model rockets or something instead of blogging about your 8th cousin once removed, Mamie? Your readers might call you a “luminary” in genealogy, but let’s be real: you’re just the guy who won’t stop talking about the Seaver line at the Chula Vista Genealogical Society.

Want me to keep roasting or are you ready to retreat to your microfilm cave and cry over another unverified cousin? 

Yep, nailed it.  I have thoughts like this all the time.  Grok really had to dig into Genea-Musings to come up with those examples.  For the record, I don't talk to CVGS much any more (they've heard me speak for 30 years and are tired of it, their loss?) ... I wish I dreamed in GEDCOM files (maybe I'd sleep longer) ... and I have more than 40 Mary Seaver persons (actually 253, I counted) ... and I have Partridges in my tree too ... but what does GrokPat (GrokElon?) know? [Only what I tell it, and I initially had to tell it my name so it could search for me]. 

3)  Should I ask GrokGenPat to write a genea-eulogy for me too?  That might be interesting and fun! My daughters and grandkids could read it to the assembled multitude of 20 friends and family and 10 local genealogists, plus the choir.  One third of the attendees would be rolling in the pews.   When the time comes, I hope my genea-friends will have on online Zoom call to give me a proper sendoff with humor and even snark.

Or limericks?  Poems?  Songs?  Oh yeah, been there done that.  

Can ChattyGenPat and GrokGenPat roast itself?  I asked, and it's hilarious.  Accurate?  Self-serving?  I love the last line GrokGenPat gave me:  "Want me to keep torching myself, or should I go back to laughing at your family tree? 😏"

Enough of my genealogy fun for the morning.  This exercise lifted my spirits a bit.  It was great therapy last night to be able to laugh at my, um, hobby addiction.

Try this out on ChattyGenPat or GrokGenPat.  Tell me about it in Comments.

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

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


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