There Is More Than One Place To Find A Document
Looking through micro-film is one of the bread and butter activities for genealogists. For me, this persuit is exciting, winding through the film reels, hoping to find that one elusive document. As the film whizes thru the reader, you feel your heart rate increase as your sense of anticipation rises. While turning the handle of a micro-film machine, if I had a tail, it would be wagging at fast break speed.
Upon finding a record it is exhilarating. On many occasions, I have reacted giddily, making a “fist pump” yelling out “Yes!” like I have scored a crucial point in an athletic competition. And, I must confess, more than once, leap out of my chair and do a little happy dance and clap with joy. And, even when you don’t find that critical record, it energizes you further. Like a blood hound, you sniff the air to try to get the scent back, you think of someplace else to look.
But, when the trail leads you to an original document, you approach a new experiential level; you get the same joy, but you encounter something deeper, a sense of profound awe. This happened once while visiting the archives of the Wyandotte County Museum in Kansas City, Kansas. After finding a mortuary record on microfilm, I decided to go to the museum to get some background information of the area and period to better understand the family related to the mortuary record.
I went on an impulse, not really expecting to find much, and thinking it would at least be fun to see what they had.
My instinct was rewarded, as the small archive produced a number of valuable source materials. Thinking I had exhausted all the possible sources available, curiosity led me to a large wooden case. Looking thru the large glass doors of the cabinet, I could see a number of volumes standing along the shelves. I ask the volunteer of the archive:
“What are these books?”
“These are original mortuary records “ the volunteer described.
Momentarily I freeze in disbelief, thinking, “Oh my God, these are the same records that are on the microfilm I searched. That same mortuary record is here in the flesh”.
Politely I asked, “could I look at them?”
I get infused with a new adrenaline rush as the volunteer opens the glass doors and starts looking for the volume corresponding to the year of my document. The suspense is too much, I begin to hold my breath. I hear. “it looks like it’s missing” and I become frustrated as if someone is taunting me as I prepare for the disappointment.
”Wait a minute, here it is, someone missed filed it”, my heart races once again.
Turning the pages I could hardly contain my delight, when finally reaching the date, the original record comes into view. The document comes alive. You see the original color of the manuscript, the ink on the page stands out, you can even smell the scent of age.
The profound awe comes from realizing a human hand wrote in the journal I was looking at. This person knew and interacted with the individuals I was researching, and for a moment, I can almost feel myself go back into time and live the same moment that is recorded in the volume. It becomes visceral, and briefly, real, as if I was witnessing the recording taking place and discern the feelings of the participants.
As I contemplate how the discovery was even made, derived from a simple whim, with no expectation of uncovering anything at all, I stare at the document a little while longer suspended in wonderment.
I called my client, telling him, “You’re not going to believe what I am looking at…..”
