The Joys of DNA: It's a Girl!

This was my year to study DNA in more detail, so I enrolled in the Advanced Genetic Genealogy course at the July 2017 Genealogical Research Institute of Pittsburgh (GRIP). It was an informative and fun class, led by CeCe Moore and Blaine Bettinger. Late at night on the first day of class I visited 23andme.com to explore a tool mentioned in class that I hadn't played with much. When I navigated to the "DNA Relatives" page, imagine my shock when I saw this!

WHAAAAAA WHAT?

I nearly jumped out of my skin and had to stifle a squeal of delight. I messaged my match noting that we shared a goodly amount of DNA and I was ready to hear her story. Then I started my calculations. At 25% the relationship also could have been half sister, double first cousin or grandparent/grandchild. I was able to rule out everything but niece. I noted that the test taker's mtDNA haplogroup was A2g1 and in my initial late-night Googling found that meant either Asian or Native American maternal lineage. Well, well!  I was therefore sure this was not my sister's child. I have two brothers. One served in Vietnam, lived in Massachusetts and (died too young) in 2003. The other one lived in New Mexico for a while but is now in Massachusetts.

Tuesday morning I had a response that she was specifically searching for her father, so I asked if she could provide place and date of birth. In class I was all aflutter but luckily the material being covered was still pretty basic, so I spent the morning investigating.* I didn't want to scare my new relative by asking too many questions. At that point she had provided only a first initial and surname. The surname is Hispanic, and I located a possible candidate from Santa Fe, New Mexico born about 1985, but I couldn't be sure with only a first initial. It just so happens that brother lived in New Mexico in the 80s, so I could tell I was getting warmer. My match then emailed me her date and place of birth: 1985, New Mexico! Bingo, I found her dad!

Courtesy of Santa Fe Chamber of Commerce

I spoke with brother on phone and he was shocked! He had not known of this baby and initially had a hard time believing it, having heard that the DNA sites were "BS." I explained the difference between the ethnicity estimates which can be very imprecise, and the actual segment matching which leaves nothing to doubt, and he came around to the science at that point––that New Baby Girl Niece and I were a 25% match and he had a not-so-new child. I advised he just go let it sink in for a day.

From then on in I served as intermediary, trying not to push Newest Precious Niece to share too much about herself, but wanting to see that raw DNA file so that I could make a direct comparison, since brother had tested at Family Tree DNA. By uploading both raw data files to Gedmatch I could directly compare and there would be no doubt. After only a day brother was so intrigued that he was ready to meet her! I can only imagine what they both were going through at that time. I just know that I felt much as I did the on the days all of my nieces and nephews were born. This surprised me a bit! How can you instantly feel love for someone you've never met? It must be built into our genes. It took all of my self-control not to ask questions or be too creepily warm and welcoming, so I tried to just let her know that wow, but okay, we're on board!

My good friend (a psychologist) told me that both of them (and their families) would need at least a couple of months to come to terms with this news, so once I connected them by providing emails, I backed out of the situation completely. Brother broke the news to his wife and three children. And Adorable Accomplished Artsy Niece planned a trip north to meet her dad, accompanied by her good friend.

So I got to meet this Brand New Relative two days ago. Her name is Raelynn. She is lovely. I'm a little freaked out at how familiar she seems. She is a really nice young woman (and so is her friend). She is well educated, has good manners, is a great conversationalist, is artistic, has a good sense of humor, and a great job. The most amazing thing is that she managed to get my husband to talk, not an easy feat! As we spoke and she registered various emotions I could see the features of other family members skittering across her face.  She says her thoughts have often been drawn to coming north to visit, with images of seafaring people and stained glass windows. I don't discount these feelings and wonder what mysterious force could be giving her hints of her ancestry all along. Most of her paternal ancestors have lived near the sea, and she's got a number of sea captains and mariners in her ancestry, not to mention Mayflower.

I'm in love. We're all in love. Welcome to the family, Raelynn!

Raelynn, me, Myles (my husband), brother Tim

[I don't like this pic because I wasn't ready with my smile yet. I felt a lot happier than I look!]

* After lunch I started paying attention again!

Sheelagh Leslie Churton, 1925-2017: Tribute to an Extraordinary Woman

We lost Myles' Aunt Sheelagh (Auntie Tealy) a few weeks ago. She was precious to us and to everyone who ever knew her. A highly unusual example of a completely selfless person––tolerant, kind, nurturing, hard working, capable, and fun! Here is the tribute I read at her funeral last week, on June 8th at the Chester Crematorium. Sadly, her church, St. Mary Without the Walls in Handbridge, was closed for repairs. 

There is so much more to her than I was allowed to delve into in the precious six minutes I was alloted, but you get the gist. The majority of it was written by Teals herself. I just interjected here and there. I didn't mention her sense of humor. She had her feet planted firmly in the world of fun and enjoyment, so she was just a great person to hang around with. The vicar pointed out that another thing I missed was her incredible stillness. She NEVER got flustered, ever. Never got angry. She was never gossipy or hateful or jealous. She just existed to please others and in doing that, pleased herself and her God. 

Sheelagh once said “I can’t imagine a world without me.” Well, Teals, neither can we!…

Anyone who knew Sheelagh knew she was highly efficient. So it won’t surprise you to know she provided me with her obituary over 25 years ago! It’s how she wanted to be remembered and I am honored to be the one to present it, with a few tweaks, on this solemn occasion.

Sheila Leslie Churton, born July 9, 1925, premature and weighing just under 5 pounds, was teeny. When big sister Rosemary tried to say teeny, it came out Tealy. And the nickname stuck—for 91 years. It seemed everyone had a pet name for her—Churt was another big one. Professionally she was known as Sister Churton. And to everyone else she was just Sheelagh. But despite what it says on her birth certificate she did not spell it in the conventional way. Instead she adopted the Irish spelling of Sheelagh, as a nod to her mother’s Irish heritage.

She was the youngest daughter of Harry Leslie Churton and Elizabeth Mary Stephens Drapes. And she was so proud of her parents: Leslie was a Cestrian with deep roots here [Chester, England], son and brother of two mayors of Chester. He was an electrical engineer and met Elsie when he was sent to work in Ireland at the Asylum in Enniscorthy. In World War I he served in the Cheshire Regiment and lost an arm in battle. He adapted by taking a degree in law and joined the family firm of W. H. Churton and Sons.

In the days before dyxlexia was understood, Sheelagh suffered through her early school years and had sad memories of being shamed, forced to wear a dunce cap and ridiculed. She worked extra hard to compensate for her dyxlexia and took a domestic science degree.

But since the age of four she had always wanted to nurse, so she pursued her SRN at the QE Hospital. She took her first part midwifery at the City Hospital, Chester, and her second part in the slums of Birmingham, delivering 99 babies without losing a-one! Just as they do on Call the Midwife she rode her bike everywhere, but she said the show is a highly sanitized version of conditions at the time. She donated many a cardigan to families that had not even a rag in which to wrap their babies.

By 1950 she was appointed Ward Sister of the Medical Professional Unit at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, and at 25 was one of the youngest ward sisters ever to be appointed.

Sheelagh never married, but that was not for want of proposals! She was tops in her field, and the demands of her profession precluded marriage. Eventually she decided marriage would have limited her ability to help so many people, and she was happy with her single life.

In 1960 she was sent to the US and Canada to gain experience in the care of patients undergoing open heart surgery.

Also in 1960, her nephew, Myles, was born in Africa. At eight he was sent to school in England while his parents remained in Kenya, surely a jarring experience for any child. It was then that Auntie Tealy became his surrogate mother. She came to see him on his sports days, brought him home for school holidays, nursed him when he had a relapses of tropical illnesses, and drove him to the airport, reassuring him that at 8 years old he could make that flight to Africa on his own!

In 1967, Glaxo Pharmaceuticals awarded her a scholarship to study nursing in the Far East, at one point even working with lepers. In Australia she served with the Flying Doctors Service. She had a great urge to travel, and felt privileged to have visited so many countries.

Before retiring, she worked in a hospice in Sheffield, studying the effect on children of a death in the family.

Once retired, she greatly increased her volunteer work, including

• cooking for the luncheon club at St. Mary’s Church,
• doing the Housebound Library, 
• helping with the homeless Soup Kitchen for 18 years, 
• helping with the Parkinson’s Society, 
• leading foreign visitors on tours of Chester, 
• and visiting families through the church’s Pastoral Link.

She had many interests, one of which was shell collecting, chiefly from the coral reef in North Africa and the southwest coast of America.

She was an avid travel photographer and her sensitive shots reveal the deep empathy she felt for all of humanity.

She was a keen sportswoman! In Birmingham she belonged to a hockey and tennis team and studied dance. Skiing, water-skiing, swimming and walking were also activities she enjoyed. She was in great shape her whole life, and at 90 could spring up from a low sofa better than most 40-year olds!

In her "auto-obituary," Sheelagh wrote: “Sheelagh attended the births of her three grand-nephews in America, supplying love, support and stamina to the family. She visited every year and enjoyed watching them grow up.”

What an understatement! What Sheelagh couldn’t describe was how much she was loved by those around her, especially our little family. I know each one of you has a story about her: how she came to care for a shut-in, to give the caregiver several days of relief—sometimes difficult patients, with the violent type of Alzheimers, sometimes, heartbreakingly, her own friends who were ill. Or children. And, as in my case, new mothers. She came to us as an aunt but transformed into a nurse when we really needed her. She was a phenomenal help, taking babies to change and “wind” them just when we were on the verge of collapse. She once pulled an all-nighter the day she arrived from England!

Of course our boys adored Aunty Tealy. She played endless imaginative games with them and spurred them on to be sensitive and creative fellows. I will always be grateful to her for the gentle love and nurturing she brought to us and to everyone with whom she came in contact.

Aunty Tealy, your favorite saying was “A place for everything and everything in its place.” Surely, there is a shining place for you in heaven today.

Brian Robert Rowland Kimmitt, RIP Dear Father-in-Law

I am completely saddened to say that my much loved father-in-law, Brian, passed away four days ago. Being a genealogist, one of my first concerns was to pull together his death notice and obituary.

People often use the term obituary to refer to a death notice. They are not the same thing. The death notice is much shorter and serves just to give the critical information that someone has died, and to relay information about the funeral and burial. An obituary is longer, describes the person's life, family and loved ones, in as much detail as can be arranged, depending on cost or time. In modern times those are both paid notices. There are also cases in which a newspaper will decide to do an article on someone who has recently passed away at no cost to the grieving family. Some newspapers also call this an obituary, some do not, so it can get confusing.

Brian lived in England and procedures and wording are a bit different than in the States, but it is essentially the same. Here is the death notice the funeral home sent to local and national papers:

KIMMITT--Brian Robert Rowland. On 1st April, at the Countess, Chester. Brian, aged 85 years of Malpas, loving father to Myles and daughter-in-law, Polly, much loved Grandfather to Ryan, Nathan and Daniel, and great friend to Anne.

Funeral Service at St. Oswald’s, Malpas on Monday April 11th at 11am, followed by interment at Shocklach Church. Family flowers only please. Donations if desired to St. Oswald’s Church or Rotary Club of Whitchurch. Enquires to Rolfe’s, the Family Funeral Service, Whitchurch. Telephone (01948) 662209.

Rather stark, isn't it? Now below is the obituary I wrote for him. I kept to the facts and did not delve into his wit, humor or kindness because it was intended for a British (more conventional?) audience. But I feel it didn't really paint a proper picture of him. Perhaps the description of his personality has no place in an obituary. I don't know. When you're in the middle of grieving and arranging travel and funeral plans it's hard to get a sense of it all. But he sure led an interesting life.

KIMMITT

Brian Robert Rowland Kimmitt of Malpas, 85, died April 1st at the Countess of Chester Hospital. The son of Lt. Col. Gordon Robertson Kimmitt and Anne Hill (Meredith) Kimmitt, Brian was born 28 January 1931 at the Woolwich Army Barracks in the East End of London.

He attended Lancing College, Sussex, and received a BA and an MA from Trinity College, Dublin University. As a young man he worked in various schools in Dublin, Birmingham and finally in Berkshire where he met and married Rosemary Churton on April 4th, 1957.

He joined the Colonial Office in 1959, then took his young wife off to teach school in Kenya. Son Myles was born there shortly afterward. His 21-year career in East and West Africa culminated in his appointment as Chief Education Officer to the Federal Government in the East of Nigeria where he founded a 1,000-pupil college and acted as Educational Advisor to the Federal Military Governor. After their return to England in 1980 Brian ran a small engineering firm in Shrewsbury, and retired in 1988.

A 50-year member of The Rotary Club (inducted in Tanga), he belonged to The Rotary Club of Shrewsbury then Whitchurch, where he served as president in 1994-95. There he chaired the International Committee for several years, instigating matching grants in Ethiopia and Tanzania with Water Aid.

Always keen on the outdoor life, he climbed Kilimanjaro four times, and walked to the peaks of Mt. Kenya three times. He played most sports, but particularly enjoyed tennis and sailing. He owned two Cessna airplanes and clocked up a thousand hours as a private pilot. He was a Lay Reader in the Church of England for many years.

A widower since 2001, Brian devoted his time to church activities along with his volunteer work with the Masons and the Rotary. He enjoyed socializing and traveling with his companion Anne Proudlove. Since 1990 he has spent two months a year with his son’s family in America and loved watching his grandsons grow up.

Loving father to Myles and daughter-in-law Polly, and grandfather to Ryan, Nathan, and Daniel. He leaves his brother Maurice FitzGerald Kimmitt and sisters-in-law Mhairi Kimmitt and Sheelagh Churton. He also leaves his very special friend, Anne Proudlove, who devoted herself to him, and cared for him in his waning years. He was predeceased by his wife, Ida Rosemary (Churton) Kimmitt and brothers Richard Desmond FitzGerald Kimmitt and Michael Richard Kimmitt.

Funeral services will be held April 11th at 11:00 am at St. Oswald’s church in Malpas. In lieu of flowers donations may be made to: The Rotary Club of Whitchurch (http://www.surftech.co.uk/rotary/Main/index.htm).

Okay, he did a lot of interesting things, but we still don't get a sense of him as a man. But I have a blog, and though my blogger expert friends would tell me this post is too long, well, it's my blog and I'll write what I want to! Brian lived a long full life and there's much to be said.

What I really wanted to talk about was how he welcomed me into the family so warmly. He was a charmer, and gracious, and was able to set anyone at ease (except, perhaps, naughty grandsons). Before Myles and I were married we visited his parents, and every morning Brian would bring me a cup of coffee in bed! I took this as an excellent predictor of boyfriend's future behavior. An equal and opposite action in the evenings was delivery of a perfectly crafted gin and tonic, with just enough bite in it to make the conversation flow. He would then regale me with stories of their time in Africa and the joy would radiate across his face.

Brian loved family, especially children. He doted on only son Myles and often said he regretted they were unable to have more children. He and Myles called each other Gully, a remnant from something in Myles' childhood. He taught Myles everything there is to know about mechanical bits, plumbing, car engines, world travel, home repair, and most of all, how to be a gentleman. He never spoke badly of anyone and never cursed. He was quietly religious and spent many years being a lay reader, often "taking the service" when the local vicar was off somewhere, and I can attest that his sermons were very well written and executed. He had a lovely singing voice and we even sang a few Hallelujah choruses together driving around in Massachusetts.

Brian and Rosemary came to stay with us for two months of every year until Rosemary's death in 2001. While I found it extremely challenging to have household guests for that length of time, it nevertheless gave us two additional guiding minds to help our boys grow into the fine fellows they are today. Granny and Granddad had strict standards of behavior (and not just for the kids!), and we encouraged them to make their opinions known to the boys. Once we had small children running around, the evening cocktail received a new nickname: "anti-buggering fluid," as in, "give her some anti-buggering fluid," which meant that Mom was wound up at the end of the day and needed calming. At that point, though, I had to keep my wits about me, however much I might have wanted to fade out a bit, and that put Brian's nose out of joint--that I wouldn't join him in a long slow cocktail at dusk. When you have three hungry boys clamoring for food and a dinner for four adults to put on you can't indulge!

Brian rejoiced in the accomplishments of his son and grandsons. When Rosemary died in 2001 Myles' office sent us a nice potted plant that flourished (we still have it!) and he never failed to remark on how highly Myles' boss must have thought of him to send such a potted plant. To him that plant represented compassion, reward, and admiration, even. As for the grandsons, he adored them beyond measure. Once they got big enough for him to get a good hold on, and that didn't take long, he never let go. He fed them their "bops", gave them baths, read stories, tucked them in, played Monopoly, watched baseball, cheering on the Boston Red Sox in their World Series win after an 86-year lag in 2004, and rejoicing as much as any local fan did. He attended their baseball games, graduations, their violin concerts, anything they had on when he was here. His big regret was not being able to make the trip last year to see Daniel graduate. Being an educator, he was thoroughly pleased with the fine education the fellows received at St. John's High School, and appreciated the input they had into turning them into fine young men.

He used to get his battle gear on when companies made mistakes or treated him badly. He was furious at American Airlines for canceling their direct Boston-Manchester flight and engaged in a protracted letter-writing campaign with them for years! He complained to the CEO. ticket agents, the air hostesses, the phone reservationists, anyone representing the company! Probably the baggage handlers, too. He once told me I didn't write enough angry letters!

After Rosemary passed away Brian was bereft. He moved to a smaller house in the sweet village of Malpas and took up a close friendship with Anne Proudlove. Anne provided much needed companionship and cheerful conversation and he brightened up and began to live his life as before. He adored her. He continued to come visit us, sometimes dragging Anne along, and even bought a condo so he could have his own "digs" nearby. He loved that place, and would wax on about how the wisdom of the realtor who found it for him, the fine view from his deck, the cherry trees, and how loud the fridge was.

I lost my father only two years after I met Brian but he happily stepped in as a substitute dad for me, and I loved him for that. I couldn't have asked for a better father-in-law. Rest in peace, Gully.

Happily, the local newspaper wishes to send a reporter out to talk to us to get a fuller picture of the man. Perhaps then we will get the right proportion of facts and emotional impact. When that is published I will post it here.

Week #8 of 52 Ancestors: Vernetta Gertrude (Jones) Barnes

Vernetta Gertrude (Jones) Barnes
13 June 1892 to 1 August 1962
(Not sure when this was taken, perhaps 1946?)

I'm so far behind that I must whip out three of these blog posts asap! So forgive me if I merely skim over what I know about my mother's mother, Vernetta Gertrude (Jones) Barnes. I've written about her before, especially in "Growing Up in a Massachusetts Mill Town." I was very fond of her, but only ever knew her from a child's viewpoint, and sometimes wonder what she was really like.

Vernie, as she was called, was an avid reader, loved history, but best of all, was a genealogist! She infected my mother and two aunts with the same passion, and thus it passed to me. She always said she was born 13 June 1892 in Lawrence, Essex County, Massachusetts, but the funny thing is, she couldn't prove her own birth. It wasn't her fault. The Lawrence City Clerk has messed up her name, sex and date of birth, and with a surname like Jones it was too hard to find. The exciting story of how I found it will have to wait for another time.

I'm not 100% sure but I assume, given the times she lived in, that Grandma Barnes was hot to find a "notable" ancestor or one with some blue blood. Her own parents were descended from New Brunswick Loyalists, so the DAR was out. Research progressed at a much slower rate in those days, so she never knew it but she had Mayflower ancestry. I'm sure she would have loved that! She spent a lot of her time researching her husband's family since they were right there in Scituate and it was all so neatly done in the published vital records and town histories. Of course we delve deeper now, but she was pretty stringent about her proofs and paid attention to conflicting information. I've found very few errors in her work.

Considering she died when I was so young, I remember quite a bit about her. Grandma Barnes [pronounced Gramma Bahnes in local accent!] was always good to me. Every Sunday we'd go pick her up and bring her back to our house for Sunday mid-day dinner. She would play card games like Go Fish and talk to me about whatever little girls want to be talked about. And she was funny. Once I excused myself to use the bathroom and she said, "Go for me too, would ya?" I just thought that was the funniest thing ever. I slept over at her house a few times and was enthralled with her because she cut the crusts off my peanut butter sandwich and my mother never would! Funny the things that win a child over.

Every Memorial Day my mother would pick her up and we'd go to the cemetery where our ancestors are buried and decorate the graves with geraniums and great big white wicker baskets full of gladiolas. I loved that cemetery (Mt. Hope, in Scituate, Massachusetts) because there was a spigot with running water, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. How convenient! And there were little wild flowers I could pick--violets, and one we called "Pussy Foots" which I've just Googled and discovered are actually called Pussy Toes! They are very soft and resemble kittens' paws.

They'll always be Pussy Foots to me!

My grandmother lost her husband when she was only 48. Her youngest children, twins, had just graduated from high school and World War II was in full swing. Her two eldest daughters were married, and her only son was in the Navy. I'm sure she was lonely and overwhelmed with the big house to take care of, but she was very civic minded and involved in the League of Women Voters, her work at the library and for SS Peirce, and with her garden. And she was pretty sociable, hosting card games and dinners for friends as well.

Vernetta and family, circa 1951, Scituate, Massachusetts
Back Row: James E. FitzGerald, Priscilla (Barnes) FitzGerald, Vernetta,
Louise B. (Barnes) Sullivan, Georgianne (Barnes) Page holding Gregory B. Page, Edwin A. Sullivan
Front Row: Ann V. FitzGerald holding Linda L. Page, Esther E. Page,
Timothy FitzGerald, Olive M. Page and Jared E. FitzGerald.
I wasn't born yet.

Vernetta died of an embolism in August of 1962, when I was still six. Against their better judgment my parents let me attend her funeral and I cried lustily, much to the annoyance of all in attendance. I couldn't figure out why they didn't seem sad, but she had had a stroke and was in rough shape before she went. I remember my brother whacking me on the arm and saying, "Junior, shut up!" But I just couldn't stop bawling. We had lived with her for the first two years of my life and I'm sure I was very attached.

I sometimes wonder if I would love her as much today, I mean if I knew her as an adult. I'm pretty confident I would. It would blow her mind to see how much information is at our fingertips for genealogical research via the web. I know we'd have plenty to talk about, starting with genealogy, but hopefully on other subjects.

Me with my Grandmother at her house in Scituate, 1961.
Those dead animals forming her coat collar always freaked me out! Somebody
(probably my brother) told me they were alive and sleeping...