You must think like a detective, spend vast amounts of time pursuing rather elusive leads, and every once in while you actually hit that goldmine.
I remember pursuing one great-great grandfather in this fashion. He was born around the time of the War of 1812 in Virginia, and spent most of his life in Baltimore as a coach builder. I searched high and low for any record of his birth or death. I still haven't found his birth records (and parents), but one day I found him buried near Chicago within a few miles of my house. Amazing! It's the thrill at the end of the quest.
Unfortunately, I have not had the time in the last few years to pursue that research. Perhaps, one day, I will resume.
I can't believe the amount of energy my wife spends on genealogy research. I've never been that interested. Sure, I am amused by stories like the one about my great grandfather leaving Carter County, Tennessee a few steps ahead of the sheriff. I've always wondered whether my passion for chocolate is connected to my relationship with some guy named Hershey in Pennsylvania. But those are old family tales of unknown reliability ... not something I would ever research.
My wife has finally worked long enough and networked with enough other genealomaniacs that she is coming to interesting conclusions. None of them verified, of course, and I suspect that some of them are not verifiable. Alas.
She claims I'm a direct descendant of Geoffrey Chaucer. Maybe I should have paid more attention to Canterbury Tales. Or not. I know my mother wouldn't have approved of great granddaddy telling such stories to her children.
My wife also tells me that my parents are distantly related. No, I don't mean second cousins. Hillbillies don't all intermarry. The fact that they are distant cousins shouldn't be too surprising, since both have roots in Carter County, but we never really knew for sure.
Alas, she tells me that I'm not related to Sir William Osler. She is. Oh well.
Bill Osler

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