Week 1 - In the Beginning

Whether you believe in a higher power or not, I truly believe that my love for family history and the talent that I have for compiling it is a gift from God. To further defend my statement, my interest in genealogy and family history developed, literally, in an instant.

In the beginning...

My father passed away in April 1998. I had known grief but nothing could compare to losing my dad. I have always been a "Daddy's Little Girl" most likely because I was a tomboy. When I was small, I tinkered right alongside him in the garage, and he taught me all of the handy-man skills that I continue to use most every day. I'm not going to lie and say that our relationship didn't struggle during my rebellious teenage years, but once I outgrew that, dad became my best buddy, my confidante, my sounding board, and in my eyes the seer of all things pertaining to life. Although he had suffered from COPD for several years, his sudden death shook me to my core. In retrospect, this is exactly how he would have wanted to go. He was a strong man, and I know he could never bear to become a burden to anyone.

Shortly after his passing, while going through all the things he'd collected over his eighty-year span, I ran across two old sepia photos that I remembered from my childhood. They resembled George and Martha Washington and from the stories I had been told by my grandmother, they were important and somehow related to me. When I'd last seen them, they were hanging in the home of my great-aunt Naomi and great-uncle Bill. I assume that when they both passed, my grandmother had received them, then they eventually came to my dad. As a very sentimental gal, I decided to take them home.

Up until this time I had never even remotely liked anything old-fashioned. My style wasn't ultra-modern by any definition, but I liked simple, straight lines (which made it easier to clean when my OCD kicked in). In my mind, antiques were old junk that nobody wanted any longer. Nonetheless, I sat down in front of the computer and looked up at the photos. Instantly, the name Michael Hillegas popped into my head.

You likely have never heard this name before, but Michael Hillegas was the first Treasurer of the United States (before Alexander Hamilton was named Secretary of the Treasury). Don't worry, I had no idea who he was until his name re-emerged from somewhere in the depths of my brain after more than probably thirty years. This is the guy, and his wife, who my grandmother had told me about as a small child. Someone important and somehow related to me.

Typing in the best spelling of Michael Hillegas that I could conjure up (remember, this was pre-Google) I immediately had countless links of information on who, I eventually discovered, to be my fifth great-grandfather.

I may as well have been hit with a bolt of lightning. This moment is when I became fascinated with learning all I could about researching my family history. This moment is when the obsession for locating that next scrap of paper to connect one more generation manifested itself. This moment is when the stories of those who came before me cried out to be told. This moment was the beginning of my life as a genealogist. I have no doubt that God had a hand in it.

But to what end? I asked myself that question often in the beginning. It didn't take long to figure it out, however. In the words of Pablo Picasso, "The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away." I use my God given talent every day to help others connect to their own past and to resurrect the memories of their ancestors so that future generations will know their stories.

PS - the sepia photos turned out NOT to be Michael Hillegas and his wife. See you next week...