Thank You for 10,000 Hits

I don't think I really thought this day would come, but I just checked the stats for my Jim's Girl Family History Blog and was surprised to see that I'd passed 10,000 page views in the last few days.

Thank you to all my readers, particularly since I've taken a break from genealogy blogging since I was diagnosed with cancer.

For some reason, over 1,600 of the hits are on my "M is for Munster" post.  When I was doing the A to Z Challenge in 2011, I had planned to do an M is for Moynihan post, but I didn't have the time to do justice to the derivation and history of my surname.  "M is for Munster" was the quick substitute.  As it turns out, the photo map of the Munster province has proved exceedingly popular. 

Many of you are also coming to get my grandmother's recipe for genetti cookies.  Thanks for coming.  You can send me a batch any time!  (Yes, Cousin Sam, you already did and they were delicious!)

I am glad that so many of you have come to the blog for the "B is for Bannia" site.  I have had so many emails and comments from folks with roots in the frazione of Bannia.  This post has put me in touch with some really lovely people, including a second cousin I didn't know.  There are so many of us in Canada and the U.S., that it's hard to beleive there is anyone left in Bannia -- but I know they're still there and I hope they are visiting too. 

"O is for Oro alla Patria" is another popular post.  I hope I have helped others solve the mystery of their oro alla patria rings.

One of my favourite posts to write was "F is for Frank's First Marriage" about my dear Zio Frank and his mysterious first wife Annie.  I'm glad you readers seem to have enjoyed that post too.

Now that I am feeling much better, though still not ready to go back to work, I have restarted my genealogical research.  I hope to have the energy to blog more about my family and that of my Sweetheart.  10,000 page views may be just the accomplishment to push me to post more.
Thank you again.

Wisdom Wednesday: Breast Cancer Awareness Month and Why I am Taking a Blogging Break

Image provided by Carol Sutton at
http://www.carolsutton.net/download_pink-ribbon.html

Warning:  This post may not be suitable for all readers.  It contains introspective and mystical content that may trigger discomfort or disdain. 

One of the things you start to pay attention to as a genealogist is when and how your ancestors died.  Most of my ancestors, on the Irish and Italian sides, lived long lives, even the ones born during the Great Famine.  My maternal grandmother passed away two years ago, days short of her 99th birthday.

My side of the family hasn't dealt with much cancer.  So maybe I took my own longevity for granted.  I didn't know that most women that get breast cancer don't actually have a family history of it.

Since I learned I was pregnant with the Bean, my lovely little girl, I've been careful.  I've tried to eat well, keep my weight down.  But I exercised too little and snacked too much.  I've made sure to look both ways before crossing the street, but still got knocked down by a truck once.  I've seen my doctor regularly, but I forgot to do my monthly breast examination.  I didn't realize how risky that could be.

As a result, last night, I had to tell the Bean that Mommy has breast cancer and it's in a few places it shouldn't be, besides my breast.  So now we know why I've been feeling so low since the end of August. 

To my surprise, today I feel better than I have in weeks.  I feel that today's new cancer treatments, plus all the support I've received from family, friends, coworkers and bloggers has built me an army that can kill cancer.

And my relatives and in-laws are part of my army.  I have been doing a visualization involving pulling out my tumours and replacing them with loving, healing light.  From the beginning, the living and the dead from my family tree have been joining me in the visualization, helping to heal me.  My Sweetie's mom, who survived breast cancer but not lung cancer, is there.  Her name was Helen, which means "light."  Helen, my Moynihan aunts and uncles, my grandmother are all helping.  And I swear that last night, my other grandmother, my namesake Katie, came by to give me a hug goodnight.

You know, I thought I was going to write about how it feels to add the yucky information to the family tree:  the illneses, the deaths, the tragedies.  But that's not really the lesson I want to share.  I've realized in writing this that whether we call ourselves genealogists or family historians, whether we research for fun or for posterity, genealogy has been giving back to us.  We're giving it dates and sources, it's giving us people.  Today, for me, it's giving me support and healing.  My family tree isn't a GEDCOM file.  My family tree is a network of people who have loved and protected their kin forever.  I've been trying to tell their stories in this blog.  And I think they are helping me to continue that work.

But for a little while, I'll need to take a break.  I understand I'm likely to feel worse before I feel better.  I'll be back to tell you how a Moynihan became a Monahan, about Alfred Burrows' WWI service, and many other stories.  When I can.

Til then, some homework for you:

• Homework Assignment 1: Get caught up on those tests you've been forgetting about.  Check your breasts.  Get that mammogram.  See your doctor.  Tell your sisters, your daughters, your girlfriends, your wives.  Take care of yourself, so you can take care of your family.
• Homework Assignment 2: I'd love to hear your stories of your ancestors reaching out to help and support you. I may sound a little crazy, but I don't think I'm the only one.

This is the Face of Genealogy

In his post this morning, "The Face of Genealogy," Thomas MacIntee, of Geneabloggers, suggested we post something today to counteract an unfortunate photo that ran recently on the LA Weekly website.

When I think of the face of genealogy, two photos come to mind.

First, this is the face of genealogy: my grandmother and namesake hiding at her father's elbow.  I'm Jim's Girl; she's Jim's mom. 

And second:  You may not see their faces, but I can't call these the backsides of genealogy, can I?  My research is also for Sweetie and the Bean.  I want the Bean to know where she comes from.

 What's the face of genealogy for you?

A is for Addiction

I recall reading that people addicted to cigarettes are eight times more likely than non-smokers to have gotten a buzz from their very first cigarette.  Not me; I could never talk myself into inhaling.

I have another addiction:  genealogy.  And it appears to be contagious.

Recently, my little one (the Bean) has been asking to use my account on the laptop so she can use my Ancestry account to search for records about our relatives.  She wants to stay up to watch Who Do You Think You Are too.  She's hooked.

It's happening at work too.  One lunch hour, I was looking up a photo J had seen, to see if with my account we could find more info on the photo and who posted it -- it seemed to be a crop of an old family group shot she had at home.  Then in a mere 15 minutes we found a bunch of info about ML's grandfather's many marriages and even more siblings.  Next thing I knew, ML was spending five hours each evening on Ancestry, forgetting to have supper!

It made me think about when my Sweetie got the bug.  My dad had been corresponding with distant Leahy cousin in the States and Iwould print our cousin's emails for dad and send dad's stuff back to cousin.  Sweetie saw this all going back and forth and thought he'd look into his side of the family.  So he did what everyone should do as a first step:

TIP:  Start with what you know.

That wasn't a whole lot.  He knew the Burrows family was English and that his grandad, Alfred, had fought in WWI for Australia.  On to step two:

TIP: Ask your parents.  WHILE THEY'RE STILL HERE! 

It was a Sunday morning and the Bean and I were heading out to the mall.  Sweetie called his dad and learned:

• Grandad was born in Devon, England
• His siblings were Florence, Ernest, Albert and Sidney.

That was pretty much it.  Sweetie asked what Grandad's parents names were.  His dad only knew Alfred's mother.  They called her "Granny Burrows."

It wasn't much to go on, but to my surprise, by the time we got back from the mall, Sweetie had identified Granny's first name, Lucy, and his place of birth on Grandad's enlistment papers.  Then he'd gone on Ancestry and found the family living in Devon in the 1901 Census of England -- easy peasy, there was the family with a mother Lucy and all the right children named.  And bonus: Alfred's father was named James.  We had to subscribe to Ancestry to see more details.  And within a day or two, we had traced James back to his parents, James and Martha, and then traced widow Martha forward through the years.

It may be some gene somewhere that determines if you will become quickly addicted to cigarettes, but my theory is that with genealogy, the addiction comes from the perfect mix of instant gratification and challenge.  For many of us, just an hour of searching will turn up interesting information we never knew.   It's into that second hour that you start to feel like you're searching for a needle in a haystack (thank goodness I have very few Smiths in the family)!

The buzz from finding something new, erases the frustration of the searching.  I'm feeling a bit like a lab rat as I write this. I'm probably not the first to observe this phenomenon.

My name is Jim's Girl, and I'm a genalogiholic.  I hope you are too.

A to Z Challenge Preview

I'm in Washington now, limited to 30 minutes at the hotel computer, but I haven't forgotten my commitment to the A to Z Challenge.  I have prepared.

Through the month of April, every day but Sunday, I will be blogging about a topic beginning with a letter from A to Z.  Here is a taste of what's coming up.  Hope you will be back to read them:

• This being a genealogy blog, the first post is going to be "A is for Addiction."
• Stay tuned for "B is for Bannia" where I'll share a summary of the parish census from Bannia, a frazione of the Comune di Fiume Veneto in the Friuli region of Italy.  The census is from 1895.  Friends and family from Sault Ste. Marie will recognize many of the families.
• "C is for Caherolickane" -- it's not just hard to say, or even a pretty background picture.  Writing this blog helped me figure out a bit more about one leaf on the family tree.
• "D is for Devon" -- that's Devonshire, where the cream comes from, and my favourite Burrows gents.
• "E is for Ellis Island" -- if you're researching your family tree in North America, chances are you'll find one of your peeps coming through Ellis Island.

More to come.  I'm still deciding if F will be for Fano, where my grandmother was born, or for Uncle Frank's first marriage.  What do you think?  G is definitely genetti cookies (thank you Aunty Anna).  And there is much more to come about the Moynihans, Burrows and others in my family tree.

If this A to Z challenge intrigues you, please check out some of the other 800!! bloggers also covering A to Z through April.  You can find links to their sites on the Tossing it Out blog.

And any of you who ever have to pack a lunch or feed a little one, please check out Kim's blog The Lunch Box.  I first learned of the Challenge on Kim's site.  I can't wait to see what delicious and practical suggestions she'll have for us through the A to Z Challenge. 

So long from Washington.  Come on back Friday, April 1 for the beginning of my genealogical take on the A to Z Challenge.

What do you call your grandparents?

If you're like me and of mixed ethnic origin, the answer is , "a lot of things."

Here in Canada we called my Irish grandfather Grampa -- though the Irish tradition would have been Granda. 

My Italian grandparents were called Ma and Babbo (Italian for daddy) because of a generation overlap.  You see, my eldest cousins were living in the same house as my grandparents and my youngest Aunt.  Naturally she called her parents Ma and Babbo.  And so did my cousins.  So... we all did.  Ma was Ma to her great-great-grandchildren.  We called Ma and Babbo's mothers Nona.  I know proper Italian is "nonna."  Was Nona a spelling from Furlan or the Marciagian dialect?  Or were we just uneducated?

Whatever the reason, Nona lives on.  When my daughter, "the Bean," was born, we decided that she would call my Sweetie's father Grampa, since her elder cousins had set that in stone.  And my parents would be Nona and Granda.  The Granda thing didn't stick.  It's hard for the North American tongue.  Granda became Grandad.   For a while.  Then the Bean started talking.  Her vocabulary started to flesh out at around 20 months.  That Christmas, my parents were Goo and Gung.  At that point, Gung meant Granda, Grampa, guy with gray hair, and a pink Beany Baby bear (who knows?).  Eventually though, my mom became Nona.  And Gung got narrowed down to my dad.

My brother's since had his own sweet little girl, "Little Woman".  He tells her that our parents are called Nona and Grampa.  We'll see.  The Bean says he's Gung.  And I can already tell Little Woman has a mind of her own.

What do you call your grandparents?  And why?