Back in 2006, I became the accidental curator of my family’s history—or, as I like to call it, the Keeper of the Chaos. After my mother’s passing, I packed up her belongings, shipped them to my house for safekeeping, and promptly ignored them. Among the boxes was a treasure trove of papers and photos that no one else seemed interested in.
The Great Photo Chaos
When I finally got around to sorting through the mountain of nostalgia, I realized two things: one, these photos were incredible and deserved to be shared; and two, my organizational skills are totally nonexistent. I started scanning and documenting like a champ, but before long, I had a box full of disorganized photos and a computer stuffed with random files named things like “IMG_473832.”
The big question was: how do I share these? During family visits, I’d whip out the best photos for specific audiences—like the one of my mother’s questionable hairstyle in 1973. I even texted my sisters snapshots of our more eccentric relatives, fully aware that as we aged, karma was probably sharpening its sense of humor for us. But then came the turning point: one of my kids had a school project to build a family tree. “Of course, I can help!” I said with the confidence of someone who absolutely could not.
The Dumpster Fire Archive
Turns out, having everything doesn’t mean having everything organized. My so-called “family archive” was a dumpster fire. That’s when I had the brilliant—and slightly naïve—idea to create a family blog. Surely, a blog could document my research, share stories, and be ready for future school projects, right?
The Long and Winding Journey
Fast forward eighteen years, and here I am: a survivor of countless genealogy websites, four overly complicated and expensive software programs, and several attempts to build my own website, all of which ended in muttered curses and abandoned dreams. Along the way, I’ve made some amazing discoveries, like finding scandalous stories of ancestors I didn’t even know existed. I’ve also learned that primary documentation is a gift from the genealogy gods, especially when collaborative sites claimed my great-grandfather was born in three different countries at the same time. Spoiler: he wasn’t a time traveler.
The hard truth? Not everyone in my family shares my enthusiasm. Some people nod politely, while others bolt for the door. And that’s okay—I’ve embraced the fact that this journey is really for me.
Scaling Mount Everest (of Learning)
The best part is that I’ve never stopped learning, even if I’ve tripped over my own incompetence more times than I can count. Building my website has been a saga. The learning curve wasn’t just steep; it was Mount Everest. I quit. I came back. I quit again. But then, in late 2024, my husband introduced me to a shiny new toy: AI. Suddenly, I had a co-pilot for designing my site, creating images, and even writing posts.
A New Beginning
It’s now 2025, a new beginning, and I’ve declared this my year. The year I finally build the website I’ve always dreamed of. The year I use every tool at my disposal to make genealogy easier, faster, and maybe even fun. And if I’m really ambitious, the year I clean up my disaster of a digital archive.