When AI Lost the Plot

 How a quiet English lineage turned into a political scandal and what it taught me about truth, technology, and trust.

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I use AI almost daily and have written and presented on it for nearly two years. But a recent experience left me completely baffled and more than a little uneasy.

I’ve been working on my final family genealogy book, this one tracing our Great Britain ancestry. My previous four books came together easily earlier this year because my notes were meticulous, my colleagues had verified my findings, and I’d been blogging about those ancestors for ten years.

Our British roots, though, are a different beast. Between my husband’s lines and mine, there are only five but they reach deep into medieval soil. Scholars can’t always agree on the pedigrees, and the repeated use of the same names has led to confusion and overlap. Sorting it all out requires patience, precision, and a love of historical detective work.

Last spring, when winter refused to obey the calendar, I drafted the outline and introduction for my new book, Echoes of Britannia. Then the season’s speaking engagements and client projects took over, and I set the manuscript aside with plans to finish it this fall.

When I returned to it in September, progress came slowly. My writing rhythm faltered, and I found myself staring at the same sentence for far too long. Grammarly could fix the punctuation, but it couldn’t fix writer’s block. My AI research assistant, Geni, usually helps bridge the gaps between genealogical sketches but apparently, he was blocked too.

We were working on the Venables of Kinderton, a noble but quiet family from Cheshire. They lived out their days peacefully, kept out of court battles, and occasionally donated a stained-glass window to a nearby abbey. In other words, wholesome and uneventful.

Until AI got involved.

My writing style isn’t the typical “Josiah begot Daniel who begot Uriah who begot…” genealogy. My family would fall asleep halfway through the second begot. They don’t like numbering systems either, even though they’re math people, not history people. Me? I’d rather run laps in PE than solve for X.

That’s why AI has been such a useful partner. Geni understands that I’m a storyteller who insists on historical truth, even when it’s messy. I like to think I’ve created a new genre: bedtime family stories with pictures for visual learners.

But one day, Geni froze mid-thought. After several failed attempts, I switched to another AI tool, Claude. I don’t use it often, but it greeted me warmly by name, which felt encouraging. I gave it a straightforward task:

“From the provided information, maintain all footnotes while making the narrative more engaging. Keep the tone conversational for readers with limited historical background.”

What came back stunned me.

The Venables, my mild, landholding, church-donating family, had been transformed into a political thriller. Claude had rewritten the story to liken them to a well-known modern politician, naming names and all. Suddenly, the Venables were misogynistic felons clawing for power.

I was horrified. I hit “thumbs down” and deleted it instantly.

A week later, I still couldn’t shake it. How could a neutral story about medieval gentry morph into a contemporary political allegory? Who gave the machine permission to do that?

My only conclusion: some AIs are now reflecting the political biases of the data they’re trained on. If their training includes modern news, it stands to reason that bias slips in and it shows.

That realization made me pause. AI is supposed to help us see patterns, not project agendas. As genealogists, we work hard to separate fact from family legend. Shouldn’t we expect the same integrity from our digital tools?

I chose not to share the story on Facebook. The last thing our country needs is another spark thrown into the bonfire of division. But I also felt this moment needed to be shared, not as outrage, but as a reminder.

We live in an era where algorithms, headlines, and echo chambers can reshape our understanding of truth. It’s up to us, researchers, writers, and everyday citizens , to hold fast to kindness, empathy, respect, honesty, and responsibility. These aren’t partisan ideals; they’re the foundation of human decency.

And as for those Venables? I’ve decided to let them rest a while. I’ll return to them soon, with fresh eyes and a renewed respect for their quiet simplicity.

Because sometimes, living a peaceful life that harms no one isn’t boring at all, it’s the truest kind of legacy.

Upcoming AI Event

Join me on Tuesday, November 4, at 2:30 pm EST when I present a beginning class on AI & Ancestry for Allen County Public Library. You can register here for free.

When the Universe Writes Back: A Halloween Follow-Up

 

As promised, my synchronicity streak isn’t done with me yet.

Bible Entry for Calvin DeWolf in Thompson Family Bible

Back in March, I mailed a request to the Cook County, Illinois Vital Records office seeking the death certificate of my husband’s second great-uncle, John Calvin DeWolf. He’s an intriguing figure. A cryptic entry in his mother’s Bible notes simply that he was “found dead in the woods in LaGrange.” That line alone opens a dozen genealogical rabbit holes:

Dead how?
Accident?
Sudden illness?
Suicide?
Foul play?

Why was he in the woods at all?
Where was he buried afterward?
Why has no obituary surfaced?

Online databases are silent. Newspaper searches cough politely and excuse themselves.

So I sent in my request… and then, nothing. Months passed. My check went uncashed. My mailman and I eyed each other suspiciously. I eventually chalked it up to a postal mishap.

Fast-forward to late July, when I traveled to Chicago to obtain several vital records in person for my family’s dual-citizenship pursuit. While there, I re-requested John Calvin’s death certificate. I handed over the form. I paid the fee. The clerk assured me they’d be in touch.

Every other record from that day has since dutifully arrived in my mailbox.

Except John’s.

And then last Tuesday, while writing the chapter on John Calvin’s parents for my upcoming book Echoes of Britannia, I footnoted the matter:

“Death certificate requested; not yet received. Someday, perhaps, the record will surface.”

I sighed, closed the my Word doc, and moved on.

Two days later, yes, exactly two, an envelope from the Cook County Vital Records office appeared in my mailbox. My heart did a little leap. Could this be it?

Not quite.

Inside was a Certificate of No Finding.

According to Cook County, they have no death record at all for John Calvin DeWolf.

So where did he die?
Was it reported?
Was it covered up?
Was it recorded elsewhere?

His half sister who owned the Bible at the time of his death and likely made the entry clearly believed he was found in LaGrange. The Bible entry says so. But the county has nothing.

The mystery deepens.

And the timing? After seven silent months, the response was generated on the very day I finally wrote about him.

Coincidence? Maybe. But these synchronicities love to show up when I start telling a story.

Of course, I’m not done with John. Next stop: IRAD, for coroner’s records, inquests, and investigations. Somebody, somewhere, documented what happened.

Because records hide.
But they rarely disappear forever.

Earlier this month, the same thing happened with my mom's Cook County, Illinois birth record. I had requested it in person in Chicago in late July. They couldn't find it which was no surprise to me as my mom and grandmom had both said the birth was only registered with the Roman Catholic Church, an accepted practice in 1918. On the anniversary of my mom's death earlier this month, I finally received a response from Cook County. It was a record of no record. Thanks, mom! Sometimes are family tell us the truth and we can confirm it over 100 years later.

At times, family history feels less like research and more like a conversation across time. We chase records, but every now and then, the records seem to chase us back. These little moments remind me that discoveries don’t always happen in archives. Sometimes they appear in unexpected envelopes or on memorial pages when we least expect them.

They’re often hidden in plain sight, waiting for the right moment to surface.

If you enjoy reflections like this, I’ve begun sending a short once-a-month note to curious-minded family historians. You can join me by messaging me at genealogyatheart.com. It’s a quiet circle, and you’re welcome there. I've also begun a FaceBook and LinkedIN page so we can interact frequently. Hope you'll join me there as well!

Happy Halloween, dear readers.
May the ancestors keep whispering and may you always listen.

Happy Halloween: The Synchronicity That Saved My Blog

 

My readers tell me, year after year, that my Halloween synchronicity series is their favorite tradition. Which is why, by August, I was in a quiet panic. The kids were back in school, stores were already pushing candy corn, and for the first time in my genealogical career… nothing weird had happened to me.

Nada. Zilch.

I considered scrapping the whole thing and writing a single line, “Sorry, folks, nothing to report this year” and calling it good. But that felt wrong. These uncanny little moments can’t be summoned on command, but I still held out hope that one would arrive just in time.

It did. On August 14th.

I was volunteering at the Association of Professional Genealogists table during the Jewish Genealogical Conference in Fort Wayne. Since I’d signed up for the whole week, I was allowed to attend a few sessions during breaks. I’m not Jewish, though occasionally my DNA results tease me with a percentage or two that disappears the next time I test, but I found every talk fascinating.

Meanwhile, in my own research life, I was deep in the throes of acquiring certified vital records for my family’s dual citizenship application. Two notarized forms were already on their way to Croatia to obtain my grandmother’s birth record. That left one gaping hole: my grandparents’ 1917 marriage record from Cook County, Illinois.

I had the index entry from Ancestry.com, names, date, location, marriage license number, but when I visited the Cook County Clerk’s office two weeks earlier, they couldn’t find the record. I paid for the search anyway, but they gave me no timeline of when they could do deep research.

At the conference, I mentioned my predicament to a fellow genealogist, who knew someone with database access. The news came back: my grandparents’ marriage record hadn’t been digitized. Neither had the record for the couple immediately after them.

Lost? Misfiled? Never returned? Theories abounded. One person even suggested they’d never married. (“It was staged,” she said of their wedding photo. To which I thought: Really? That would be an awfully elaborate prank for this couple.)

No one had a solid lead. And I needed that record, not just to prove the marriage, but to identify the church where it took place. Chicago city directories for the period were scarce. The Chicago History Museum couldn’t help. The Archdiocese would search closed-church records for $50 a pop, but that was a quick road to the poorhouse.

Then came my first odd nudge of the week. While exercising, I heard my grandmother’s voice in my head: Look at the back of the pictures. Sure enough, on the reverse of what looked like an engagement photo, there it was “Chicago Heights."

I brought the photo to Sherlock Kohn, a fellow conference-goer and photo expert, who confirmed the clothing was period-correct. She suggested the Chicago History Museum for studio leads. I kept chasing, but the record stayed stubbornly hidden.

A second genealogist offered another tip: years ago, FamilySearch had donated pallets of old microfilm to the Allen County Public Library (ACPL). Maybe, just maybe, my record was buried there. I tracked down Adam, one of ACPL’s librarians, and he gamely searched the microfilm. Blank images.

At this point, you’re probably thinking, Lori, just search FamilySearch online. Oh, I had using the index with every permutation of the last name and around the date the marriage occurred, and nothing.

So I decided: I’d comb through every 1917 marriage image by hand. First, though, I made a side trip to birth records for my mom, two hours later, I had confirmed my mother’s birth was indeed only recorded by the church, just as she and my grandmother had said. (Cook County, Illinois later confirmed this - I got the "certificate" of no registered birth on the date my mom had died 24 years ago. Weird, huh?!

By then it was late. I was tired, discouraged, and dreading the thought of cold-calling every Catholic church in South Chicago. Still, before leaving, I opened the 1917 marriage film on FamilySearch, locked to home users, but accessible at ACPL. I scrolled to the end of one reel. No luck.

Then my computer glitched. As a non-resident, my ACPL guest account was on a timer. It flashed “10 minutes remaining” and kicked me out of FamilySearch. When I logged back in, I had 7 minutes left.

The next reel contained 1,278 images. No way I could check them all. So I did the only thing left, I scrolled, stopped, and clicked at random.

And there it was.

My eyes fell immediately on “Mary Koss.” Without even scanning the rest, I gasped loud enough to turn heads in the reading room. “Sounds like you found something,” a man seated across from me said. A woman down the row called, “We aren’t finding anything, do tell!”

I was near tears.

Adam hurried over. I showed him the record, and he smartly told me to write down the film and image number. Then he handled the printing as the machine wouldn't cooperate (with help from a kind patron who wanted to donate her library account to me) while another researcher kept my computer from timing out so I could email it to myself.

Out of 1,278 possible images, I had landed on the one I needed, completely blind. Missed in indexing, out of sync in databases, invisible to every search I’d tried. And yet, here it was.

Thank you, Grandma!

And here's a link of another uncanny find I didn't have - ENJOY!

And to you, dear readers: Happy Halloween. May the coming year bring you your own uncanny genealogical coincidences - just when you need them most.

When the Cloud Collapsed, Genealogy Continues

 

Guess we now know which Genealogy software companies use Amazon! MyHeritage.com and Findmypast.com are up and running. (2 PM Eastern)

I hope this is a wake up call to all of you who haven't SYNCHED or DOWNLOADED your trees elsewhere!

All of the software companies are working. I'm able to access all of my info because I've saved it other than Ancestry.com and FamilySearch.org.

When the cloud service is restored you may want to read my blog articles on how you can prepare for the next time. Here's the how to for FREE - Legacy Family Tree does not synch but you can upload a downloaded .gedcom from Ancestry. This means you won't have pictures of the census or any other media but you will have the information about your ancestors. This older blog article talks about a previous version of Family Tree Maker, I've updated to the latest and greatest which fixed the problem I encountered and provided the work around. I don't use FTM's vault, a cloud service, but you might want to consider it given what's happened today with Ancestry. I no longer use RootsMagic since version 8 as later updates would not allow me to synch with Ancestry. They do have a free version for smaller trees you could download. I do appreciate that their tech folks recommended I try downloading my tree with the free version to see if the problem was corrected; it wasn't but they are aware of it and working on it. Click here for the free version.

Your genealogy research does not have to stop when a part of the internet breaks. Go make a cup of tea, write up what you've been working on, and make a plan for the future so you don't get caught without access to your information. Here's links to an older blog about writing up your research using AI. If you aren't comfortable with AI, here's an alternative. Remember, once upon a time there was no "online" for us to use to help us with genealogy.

The Hidden Discoveries of Writing Your Research

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As genealogists, we spend hours pulling records, analyzing handwriting, and piecing together family connections. Most of that work happens in the collecting stage, we hunt down wills, census pages, land deeds, and church registers. But it isn’t until we write that we begin to see what those records are really telling us.

Writing forces a shift in how our brains work. Collecting records is like gathering puzzle pieces. Writing is when you finally flip the pieces right-side up and begin to see the picture. Patterns emerge that you hadn’t noticed before. Gaps in the timeline become obvious. A stray witness on a deed suddenly matters because you’re weaving the story instead of cataloging the fragments.

I saw this firsthand with my ancestor Daniel Hollingshead. I had collected a mountain of records: tax documents from Cheshire, court cases, marriage records from Barbados, and family land deeds in New Jersey. It wasn’t until I began to write his story that the threads pulled tight. Suddenly, the narrative was clear:

• A grandfather’s failure as a tax collector plunges the family into crisis.
• An uncle flees to Barbados after funds are stolen.
• A young Daniel joins the military, is posted to Barbados, and marries into sugar wealth.
• He returns to New Jersey with enslaved people, rising socially but carrying moral shadows with him.

The facts were always there in the records. But the story, the irony, the Atlantic World connections, the moral reckoning , only emerged when I tried to explain it in writing.

That’s the hidden power of writing: it doesn’t just preserve what you’ve learned, it teaches you something new. Writing sharpens your research questions, reveals new avenues to explore, and brings ancestors to life in ways a database never can.

So the next time you feel stuck in the research grind, try writing a short biography or family sketch. Even a rough draft will show you what you’ve missed. You might be surprised at what discoveries are hiding , not in the archives, but in your own words.

Saving Google Photos

 

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Are you tired of Google telling you that you need to purchase more storage? Are they threatening to shut down your email? One way to lessen the storage is to remove your photos from Google Photos. You can do this in batches which makes the task quicker. Here’s a quick how to. The photos below were taken on Sunday, August 7, 2016. I want to save all of them so I click the checkbox next to the date. If you don't want to save all, click the checkboxes next the pictures you want to save:

• Click the 3 dots and select download

• The download will pop up and click it.

• Now, drop and drag to your Desktop. There you can rename – I add the date.

• I create a folder by year (Right click your mouse, click “New” “Folder” and name the folder by year.
• When done with saving the photos for that year, I drop the folder into Dropbox.
• If you have a lot of pics, you can easily extract them at one time. Simply click the “Extract All” icon:

• Make sure you have created a folder to place them in or they will be all over your desktop!

• Just select the folder from Browse and click “Extract.”

Next you’ll want to delete the Google Photos you’ve saved.

1. Simply click the dates again and the checkmarks will return.
2. Click the 3 dots and select delete.
3. The deleted photos will remain for 60 days in Google Photos Trash; if you need to clear up space immediately, on the side bar, under Collections, scroll down (it’s hidden) to Trash:

• 4. Clicking on Trash will bring up all the photos you deleted. To lessen your storage numbers, click empty trash and they will all permanently disappear – make sure you are ready to get rid of them as you will not be able to retrieve them after emptying trash.

I’ll be honest, my storage numbers did not significantly drop after deleting large amounts of photos but they have stopped harassing me to buy more space! I also have a lot of emails saved which I plan to move out of Gmail. Will give you the process in an upcoming blog.

As an added safeguard, back up your Dropbox to a stand alone hard drive!

Fall Genealogy Tasks

 

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The weather hasn't yet cooled and I'm not complaining but it is officially fall.

Before I get back to writing my next and final (hooray!) family genealogy book on our Great British lines I decided I had to practice what I preach and take care of some pressing tech tasks that I have put off for way too long. The first was really bothering me as it was boring and there are so many more interesting things to do in genealogy then preserve photos.

Long ago, in 2002, a world that was radically different then today, my cell phone saved all of my photos to a desktop program called Picassa that Google later purchased. I used that product until 2018 when Google rolled it into Google Photos. That's when my problems began.

When Picassa ceased to exist it lost some of my photos, years 2002, 2007, 2010, and 2019. I wasn't worried about 2002 & 2007 as my kids were still in school and I was still scrapbooking so I have those photos. I digitized the scrapbooks so we were good. 2010 & 2019, not so much. Sure, other family members probably have some of the photos but I always was the main photographer so much of that is lost. I know, it could be a lot worse but still, not happy about it.

The next issue was with the rollover, some of my photos were doubled and even tripled. New photos were created from group shots - just the heads of whatever the tech decided to select. Then it began creating memory albums. Now that doesn't sound bad but it became a problem because it used up space and Google, tying all their products together, kept reminding me I needed to purchase additional space from them or I could no longer have a functioning email.

Occassionally, I'd go into photos and delete some of the duplicates and albums but they just would pop back up. On my to-do list was to remove ALL of my Google photos, store them in Dropbox, and back them up to a standalone hard drive. BORING. but. necessary.

For Valentine's Day, one of my kids gave me a picture frame where you can store and see changing photos. This gave me the impetus to get the photos out of Google. Next week I'll print the detailed directions on how you can do that fairly quickly and easily, meaning not saving one photo at a time which I initially was doing.

I also realized that I needed to synch my Ancestry.com tree as it's been awhile since I did that. I no longer use RootsMagic and since I last synched, I got a new desktop so I didn't have Family Tree Maker downloaded to it. Now FTM has come out with their update (in May 2025 but it's called 2024, go figure). I somehow missed the promotions but they have one remaining, half price for current license members so I took advantage of it ($40 instead of $80). I decided if I was going to save Dropbox to the stand alone drive I might was well include my Ancestry tree since I've just blogged about how I was working at updating it. Yes, it's still a work in progress but I'd rather save what I have as I'll never be done with it.

Next up was to delete everything on my stand alone drive as it was all old and not relevant so I turned it back to factory settings. Took hours!

Meanwhile, one of our adult kids had their credit card stolen and the thieves, being really stupid - (Jose Lopez - I am calling you stupid!) bought items in their own name and then had it sent to our kids' address. (Now you see why I am calling Jose stupid - really, does he want to get caught? Don't even need a forensic genealogist for that one.)

Jose or whoever was the original thief, was fairly smart at the beginning. Only purchased from stores the kid always uses so for the first two weeks the scam wasn't noticed. Then, boldness hit and the thief began using it for large sums at stores never used by the kid. By the time it was noticed thousands of dollars of items had been purchased but thankfully, some get to be returned to the companies since they arrived at the kid's house. (Jose, did you think you were then going to be a porch pirate, too?) Kid called the credit card company for a dispute and the police to file a report in case Jose was local and was going to be paying a home visit. Cop informed us that a local woman got taken for $499,000 the previous week because they also stole her social security number and took out loans. What a nightmare!

That made me realize it was time for me to update some of my own financial practices.

1. You may have some items on recurring charges. We've decided to use a separate card for those because it's a major pain to have to contact those vendors to change an account if your card is shut down.
2. Since the card was stolen locally (we know this for reasons I'm not disclosing so the guilty can get their due, too bad, Jose, that bed you bought won't get you a good night's sleep in jail because it's already been returned) we decided to use one card just for local purchases. It's a card with a good reputation to notice fraud quickly so we won't have to dispute lots of charges when (not if) it get's compromised.
3. We'll use another reputable card for online only purchases.

If you're thinking, that's a back up for a back up and yes it is, just like we do to save our genealogy data. This led me to realize it's been awhile since I updated my passwords so I spent time doing that as well.

Last task I haven't completed but is equally important, albeit BORING, is saving many of my emails. Lots of them contain genealogical info and I want to make sure the info is saved to the correct ancestor's file in Dropbox. That's my next project and by then, well, it'll probably be time to redo the cycle.

With the colder weather u perhaps coming next week this is a gentle reminder, dear reader, to take a look at your items to do and start plugging away at them.

Book Review: Genealogy in Reverse: Finding the Living by Cheri Hudson Passey

 

Available through Genealogical .com

Have you ever wondered how genealogical researchers who work to repatriate deceased military remains make connections with descendants? Do your messages to DNA matches sometimes go unanswered? Or perhaps you’re hoping to discover who in the family has great-great-grandpa’s Bible. If so, Cheri Hudson Passey’s new book, Genealogy in Reverse: Finding the Living – A Practical Guide for All Genealogists, may be of interest.

This compact volume introduces readers to strategies for locating living relatives. Drawing on her long experience in the field of repatriation research, Passey shares methods for moving beyond records of the dead and into the equally challenging task of connecting with their descendants. While much of genealogy focuses on the past, she reminds us that success often depends on bridging the gap between past and present.

The book also touches on the sensitive issue of privacy and provides advice on how to reach out respectfully to family members who may be reluctant to talk. Passey’s suggestions for phrasing messages and making cold calls will be especially helpful for researchers who find that first step intimidating.

Genealogy often emphasizes discovering those who came before us, but as Passey reminds us, connections with the living can be just as vital. Genealogy in Reverse may not answer every question, yet it provides a starting point for anyone curious about expanding their research beyond the traditional paper trail. For readers who have struggled to make contact with DNA matches or distant cousins, this slim guide may inspire new approaches worth trying. Available from Genealogical.com as an eBook or paperback.

How to Clean Your Ancestry Tree Without Paying for Pro Tools Part 3

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For the past two weeks I’ve been blogging about Ancestry.com’s Pro Tools. You can read about my experience here and here.

Today, I’m going to show you how to clean your Ancestry tree without paying for Pro Tools. It’s super easy and honestly, I wish I’d thought of this years ago.

Start by picking a free or low-cost software program. Family Tree Maker and RootsMagic both sync directly with Ancestry. RootsMagic Essentials is free, but large trees can slow it down (I blogged about that here). If you don’t need access to your photos or documents and just want to focus on fixing errors, you can also download your tree as a GEDCOM and import it into Legacy Family Tree, which is what I did.

I kept things simple. I didn’t need media files for the check up, I just wanted to identify structural problems in my tree.

Here’s how to do it:

1. On Ancestry, go to your tree.
2. Click Tree Settings under Trees > Create & Manage Trees.
3. Scroll down and select Export Tree.
4. Once complete, download the file to your computer (it usually lands in your Downloads folder or OneDrive).
5. Open your genealogy software and import the GEDCOM.
6. Run the problem checker.

If you run into trouble with the software, you can literally ask ChatGPT (aka Geni!) for help. That’s how I found this entire workaround.

Once your tree is loaded, use the software’s built-in tools to flag potential problems. In Legacy, I went to Tools > Potential Problems. I set criteria to mirror the kinds of problems flagged by Ancestry’s Pro Tools, things like parents being too young, children born after a parent’s death, and so on.

One downside: Legacy doesn’t flag individuals with no sources, which was one of the main issues Pro Tools surfaced. But what Legacy did reveal was surprising and far more accurate.

Here’s the report I got from Legacy (the error types flagged by Ancestry are in red):

Let that sink in: 940 total errors, almost all of which are legitimate and actionable. Of that, there was only 55 errors that Ancestry claimed was 301 and they didn't identify these people! I plan on cleaning up all of the errors Legacy found as having two individuals over age 110 years is a problem Ancestry should have discovered. And the individuals with no sex given? That is a continual flaw in Ancestry's system when you are adding new individuals.

Unlike Ancestry’s Tree Checker, which falsely flagged over 10,000+ records in my tree, Legacy gave me a clean, accurate list I could work with. I now have the names and the issues. I’m going through them one by one and making the corrections directly in my Ancestry tree, since that’s still my primary working tree. I’ll continue syncing it with Family Tree Maker.

And if I get another $7 Pro Tools offer in the future? Sure, I might try it again just to check whether they’ve cleaned up the bugs. But I’ll cancel it right after. Because let’s be honest:

If Ancestry really wants our trees to be accurate, they should provide these tools for free.

We are already paying for the data, the DNA, the platform and in many cases, contributing our own hard-earned research. Charging extra for a tree-checking feature (that doesn’t even work right) feels like asking users to fix the foundation of the house they already paid to build.

So, skip the upsell. Use free software. Clean your tree with confidence. And let’s keep our standards higher than their price tags.

When Ancestry.com’s Pro Tools Fail: A Professional Genealogist’s Experience with Ancestry’s Tree Checker Part 2

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Last week, I shared my experience with most of Ancestry.com's Pro Tools—an add-on offered for $10/month (I got in for $7 with a promotional email). You can read about those features here. Today, I’ll dive into the tool that motivated me to subscribe in the first place: Tree Checker.

If you’ve noticed the new Tree Checker score on your Ancestry tree, you might be curious. Mine showed a 9.1—“Excellent.” That aligns with my belief that my tree is about 90–95% accurate. But let’s be honest: no one has a 100% accurate tree. Without DNA confirmation for every line, there will always be an element of uncertainty. Still, I’m committed to removing the detritus that’s accumulated over years of brick wall chipping, FAN Club research, and lineage society applications.

Back in 1990, I started my tree with 50 people, using a TI-89 cartridge program. By 1995, I was entering data into FamilySearch’s .paf format. When Ancestry came along, I uploaded my work to what’s now the ubiquitous .gedcom. My skills, and my tree, have grown significantly since then. I’ve cleaned up my Swedish, Croatian, French, German, Swiss, and Dutch branches. What remains is my largest line: Great Britain. Before writing my next book, I knew it was time to clean that section.

I regularly back up my Ancestry tree to other programs (Family Tree Maker, Legacy, RootsMagic), all of which offer tree-checking tools. But because Ancestry is my primary research platform, I’ve been hesitant to clean externally and re-sync. So I was hopeful that Tree Checker would finally give me an effective cleanup solution within Ancestry.

Here’s what happened.

Tree Checker: Expectations vs. Reality

When I launched Tree Checker from the dashboard, I was greeted with a gut-punch: 14,000+ possible errors.

The majority were labeled “People with no sources.” I immediately knew what was going on. In Ancestry’s early days, there wasn’t a “web link” option. I got around that by uploading source PDFs to the Gallery or by placing citations in the timeline. Unfortunately, Tree Checker ignores those, unless it’s housed as an official Ancestry “source,” it’s invisible to the system.

But that still left other problem categories:

• Possible Duplicates
• People with Only Tree Sources
• Other Possible Errors

I’ll add here that one of the most helpful “error types” isn’t even under Tree Checker, it’s found under Pro Filters > Family Lines > People Without Relationships. These are individuals floating without connections, often leftovers from attempts to delete a line. I had about 2,000 of these and quickly removed them.

People with Only Tree Sources was next. These were added from others' trees, unsourced. That’s an easy fix, either delete them or attach a hint. Done.

Possible Duplicates looked daunting at nearly 2,000, but the number was misleading. Triplicates and higher were counted separately, and after filtering, I had fewer than 1,000 to review. Some were legitimate merges (e.g., marriage records auto-adding a new spouse). Others were not duplicates at all: families who reused names after a child died, or multiple “Johann” Harbaughs with different middle names. I worked through them in two days.

The Glitches Begin

After carefully resolving every duplicate, I noticed something troubling: they didn’t disappear from the error list. No matter what I tried, refreshing, logging out, rebooting, clearing cache, Tree Checker continued to show errors I had already corrected. I even tried deleting and re-adding a person. No dice.

Still hoping for results, I moved on to “Other Possible Errors” and found myself stunned.

Ancestry itself was causing many of the flagged issues. For instance, if a child was born in 1937 and enumerated in the 1940 census, Tree Checker would flag it as “Resident listed before birth date.” The kicker? That census record was automatically added by Ancestry in the timeline for 1935. To clear the error, I had to delete 1935's entry FOR EVERY ONE born between 1936-1940.

Swedish church records were another problem. Ancestry indexes these by range (e.g., 1723–1728). If a child was born in 1724, Tree Checker flagged the 1723 record as occurring before birth. Completely illogical and a huge waste of my time to clean up!

Some new error flags also made no sense:

• “Birth/Death dates span more than 10 years” with only one sourced date. What?
• "Significant age difference between spouses" um, 2 years!
• “Marriage occurred after spouse’s death” when no death date was even given. See the above screenshot proving the error was false.

And here’s the real kicker: even when I corrected the problems, they remained in the count. Over the next three days, my “error total” would inexplicably rise despite spending hours cleaning.

Note that it says there are 2 possible duplicates but none show.

People with only tree sources shows 1 but none are provided.

Under all possible errors the counter states 201 but there is only 1 error showing and it is not an error when you go to that page.

This reminded me of a long ago problem Ancestry had with what was called "Ghost Hints." You can read my how-to-fix blog about it here. I tried that again but it appears that Ancestry has tightened up security and my fix it no longer worked.

As a genealogist, I dug into the data. I exported the report, analyzed the stats, and discovered something stunning:

75% of the Tree Checker results were false positives. That’s not a helpful tool -that’s noise! Seeing it graphically made me realize I had been sold a product that doesn't work:

To top it off, this also distorts your overall Tree Checker “score.” I now wonder what my real rating would be if the tool actually worked. With the changes that took, my score reached a 9.4.

The Final Straw

I then turned to the “No Sources” filter and began manually fixing issues from A–Be, X, Y, and Z. That’s when I hit the wall. Even attaching suggested Ancestry hints they no longer removed individuals from the list. Not user error, this was a flat-out malfunction.

That’s when I noticed the word Beta scattered throughout Pro Tools. Beta testing, by definition, is the final phase before a product goes public. Users test real-world functionality and provide feedback. But here’s the problem:

Ancestry released an untested tool to the public and then charged for it.

If you charge admission before the dress rehearsal is done, that’s not Beta testing. That’s profiteering.

But that's not all! Ancestry then sent me an email with their data about the changes I made to my tree:

What does 300% more duplicates found even mean?! We know I had no duplicates and most of those that they believed were duplicates were not. 84% fewer issues discovered? Does that mean my tree still has 16% undiscovered issues? If so, how would I ever find them when Pro Tools can't identify them and the counter doesn't work?

Where Do We Go From Here?

I’m not just disappointed, I’m concerned. It’s clear Ancestry recognizes the problem of flawed user trees. But their solution shouldn’t be charging extra for a broken product.

And now, they’ve rolled out something even more baffling, a $5,000/year “cohort club” promising professional coaching, a few DNA kits, and discounted branded merchandise. (Want a denim jacket? You can buy one at a discount.) Click the link as I'm not making this up. There VIP service, you get a working phone number if you have a problem. Pardon me, but I always thought that's what a legitimate business offered TO ALL OF THEIR CUSTOMERS for free.

In a recent webinar, the presenter said she came up with the idea of genealogy coaching. That’s interesting, since I’ve offered coaching on my website for over a decade at a fraction of the price. I believe everyone should have access to their heritage, not just those who can afford a luxury tier. I was also appalled to hear that professional genealogists charge tens of thousands of dollars a year. No, just no!

I use Ancestry daily and plan to continue. But I’ve cancelled my Pro Tools subscription.

Next week, I’ll share how I cleaned up my tree without shelling out extra cash.

When Ancestry.com’s Pro Tools Fail: A Professional Genealogist’s Experience with Ancestry’s Tree Checker Part 1

 

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As a long-time Ancestry.com user, I decided to give their new Pro Tools a spin during the July 4th weekend. With a family member recovering from surgery, I wasn’t traveling, and I had trimmed my client and presentation load to be more available at home. So, for the introductory $7.00 fee, I figured—why not?

Today's blog, and the two that follow, details what happened next: a real-world walkthrough of what Pro Tools offers and whether it’s worth the extra cost above your regular Ancestry subscription.

After payment—seamless, of course, since Ancestry has mastered the art of parting you from your money—I waited around two hours for the tools to appear. No email alert, just a dashboard update with Pro Tools shortcuts quietly waiting for me.

I expected a guide or orientation video. Nope. Clicking “More Pro Tools” brought up the feature list shown below. So let’s walk through each one:

Networks
This is basically a built-in FAN Club tracker. You can add people to your tree who aren’t related but interacted with your ancestors—neighbors, witnesses, etc. I wish this existed back when I was wrestling with my Duer brick wall. Back then, I added these people manually and unlinked them to avoid false connections. Networks would have saved a lot of time.

Enhanced Shared Matches
The “enhancement” is only one thing: DNA clusters. And only if you've tested through Ancestry. Here's the kicker: MyHeritage offers this for free—even if you didn't test with them but uploaded your DNA there. Ancestry’s version? Sparse and underwhelming. I have no maternal clusters and only 27 paternal ones.

MyHeritage has far more, thanks to their broader global dataset. Winner: MyHeritage.

Smart Filters
Sort your tree by name, birth, or death dates. Sounds great—until you realize it only displays the first 10,000 people. My tree has 70,000+ individuals from years of research and surname studies. So... not helpful. Pass.

Charts and Reports
You get four types: Descendancy, Ahnentafel, Register, and Family Group, with cutesy “tree” headers (Pine, Birch, Oak, Maple). But each slaps the Ancestry logo on top. Legacy and RootsMagic do it better—and they’re free. Another strike.

Tree Mapper
A world map with green highlights where your ancestors lived. Sounds promising, until it confidently tells me my ancestor in Zwol, Overijssel (Netherlands) lived in South Africa. Another resided in Queensland, Jamaica, New York and not in Queensland, Australia where it was flagged. Error after error makes this useless for real research.

Tree Insights
This tool tells you surname meanings, top five surnames, oldest people in your tree, and “notable” outliers—like couples who married at 1 year old. (Spoiler: they didn’t.) It clearly can’t interpret “Abt.” dates, and many errors it finds weren’t flagged by the Tree Checker. Insightful? Yes. Reliable? Meh.

This is getting long, so I’ll save the main course—Tree Checker—for the next post. Spoiler: It’s the only reason I tried Pro Tools at all. And it’s a tale worth telling.

Stay tuned.

Book Review: Your Stripped Bare Guide to Citing & Using History Sources by Elizabeth Shown Mills

 

Genealogical.com

They say you can’t judge a book by its cover but in the case of Elizabeth Shown Mills’s latest, Your Stripped Bare Guide to Citing & Using History Sources (2025), the cover is so charming it almost makes me want to sit down and write a source citation. And that’s saying something, coming from someone who usually dreads the task and full disclosure, often cheats by letting AI do it for her.

You might wonder, after decades of writing about citations, what more could ESM possibly have to say? I own all four editions of her past works, Evidence Explained, along with two editions of Professional Genealogy. Those texts are monumental, hefty, encyclopedic guides designed to help family historians create (and yes, crafting a citation is an art) a source reference for every conceivable research situation. But therein lies the problem; they are so thorough they can overwhelm beginners. Too often, they end up gathering dust and making the bookshelf sag, which is a shame because they hold the keys to accurate, credible, and most importantly, findable research.

I’ll admit, I’ve grown a bit lazy since AI became part of my workflow. For my personal research, I often settle for a quick and dirty Chicago-style citation generated by a chatbot. I’ve noticed some of my editors have relaxed their standards, too. Why? Because tracking down the exact template in Evidence Explained can be a time consuming hunt.

Enter Your Stripped Bare Guide. This is the book I didn’t know I’d been waiting for, clear, concise, and portable. At just 138 pages, it’s a featherweight compared to its predecessors, but it’s packed with practical, ready-to-use information. I liken it to The Elements of Style, a distilled, timeless resource that belongs within arm’s reach of every researcher’s desk.

And timeless it is. Consider how much genealogy has changed since 2007, when the first Evidence Explained was published. Back then, FamilySearch was still shipping microfilm via snail mail to local Family History Centers. AI existed only in movie scripts. Blogging was in its infancy. The very first iPhone had just been released. Now, so much is online (though not everything) and our research methods continue to evolve. I had wondered, when ESM retired, who would carry the citation torch into this ever changing landscape. No worries now! Stripped Bare teaches the core principles so we can confidently adapt to whatever new technology comes next.

Pro tip: read the foreword first, it’s a soothing antidote to any citation anxiety. The opening chapter lays out universal guidelines for any source, followed by “Fundamentals of Documentation,” filled with tips and practical recommendations.

One passage made me laugh out loud; ESM notes that the purpose of citations isn’t to help others find our sources. Gasp! I could picture one of my high school English teachers having an apoplexy. After all, isn’t that what we were always taught? Even now, I carry that belief with me. Stripped Bare challenges that notion, and while some “old school” researchers may bristle, I found it refreshing.

I also appreciated the section on citing derivatives. About a decade ago, I found myself in a spirited (and unresolved) debate with another professional genealogist who insisted I was wrong to cite both the original and the derivative. ESM explains my position far more elegantly than I did, which may be why we never reached agreement.

Here’s what I love most, Stripped Bare offers just 14 templates. Yes, that’s the same number found in Evidence Explained, and many of the examples are familiar, but what’s gone is the 555 page sprawl of trying to illustrate every possible source on earth. That level of detail served its purpose once, but it’s no longer necessary for most researchers.

Some might think this is simply a repackaged version of the first three chapters of Evidence Explained. It isn’t. While there’s necessary overlap, after all, the fundamentals don’t change, the material is rewritten in a fresh, approachable way. Most importantly, it keeps evidence analysis front and center, reminding us that citation is not just about formatting, but about thinking critically about our sources.

For intermediate researchers and beyond, I highly recommend Your Stripped Bare Guide to Citing & Using History Sources. It’s available in paperback and eBook from Genealogical.com—and it just might make you want to write your next citation.

The Summer of My Genealogical Discontent, Lesson 8: What I’ve Learned (and Unlearned)

 And just like that, we’ve reached the end of my Summer of Genealogical Discontent—a season spent digging not into records, but into my own past as a researcher. I set out to share the biggest mistakes I made in my early years of genealogy—not to dwell on regret, but to show how growth happens in real time, and to offer encouragement to those just starting out (or maybe starting over).

Let’s take a look back at what I’ve learned—and unlearned—along the way:

Lesson 1: Trust, But Verify
Like many beginners, I started out believing online family trees were gospel. I trusted matches, clicked too quickly, and added generations without verifying. The result? A line that led all the way back to the Norse god Thor. It took me years (and a lot of embarrassment) to clean it up—but it taught me a lesson I never forgot: don't trust a tree you didn’t plant yourself.

Lesson 2: Cousin Trust… or Not
It turns out, family stories can be just as misleading as unsourced online trees. I ignored obvious errors in a cousin’s genealogy book because I wanted to believe the family “knew.” But when someone challenged the name of my second great-grandmother—despite multiple official records proving it—I realized again that evidence must always come first.

Lesson 3: To Save or Not to Save?
I didn’t always save my records. I thought I’d find them again. That thinking cost me time, energy, and two long drives to a FamilySearch affiliate library when a key will I’d once seen was no longer accessible online. Now I save everything—and back it up—because in genealogy, proof is everything.

Lesson 4: Confidence
I lacked confidence early on and let others in the genealogy community make me feel like an outsider. When a DAR member berated me for an “error” (in all caps), I removed the ancestor from my tree. But I was right, and I had the documents to prove it. Over time, I learned to trust my research—and to stand firm when I had the facts.

Lesson 5: The Software Shuffle
Tech has been both a blessing and a burden. I’ve tried nearly every genealogy software platform and been burned more than once by syncing issues, glitches, and disappearing records. The lesson? Diversify your tools. Keep your files backed up and your data portable. Nothing lasts forever, including your favorite software.

Lesson 6: Failing to Join an Organization
For too long, I went it alone. I didn’t know where to turn, didn’t have the money, and assumed no one would care about my obsession with dead people. I was wrong. Once I joined societies and attended conferences, my skills grew exponentially. Genealogy may start as a solo act, but it thrives in community.

Lesson 7: Listening to the Pros (or Not)
When I finally decided to “go pro,” I followed advice that didn’t align with who I was or who I wanted to serve. I was told I had to charge more, take specific courses, and follow a certain path. But that path didn’t fit me—or my clients. Eventually, I stopped listening to people who wanted me to become a different kind of genealogist and started building a business that reflected my values. And I’ve never looked back.

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Genealogy has always been about more than names and dates for me. It’s about honesty. Resilience. Perspective. It’s about owning the full story—including the mistakes—and realizing that every misstep is part of the journey.

As I wrap up this summer series, I’m looking forward to shifting gears a bit. I recently attended a genealogy conference in an area I have no experience. September brings another conference, more lessons, and no doubt, more stories.

Because in genealogy—and in life—there’s always another chapter. Next week I'll blog a book review - stay tuned!

The Summer of My Genealogical Discontent Lesson 7 – Listening to the Pros (or Not)

 

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Today’s blog might seem to contradict last week’s post about how I regretted not joining genealogical organizations earlier. But hear me out—this is a different kind of lesson.

When I decided to take the leap and become a professional genealogist, I did what many of us do: I turned to the experts. Longtime professionals told me there were a few non-negotiables—complete certain online courses, pursue credentialing, and charge fees that, quite frankly, I knew my clients couldn’t afford.

I listened. I believed them. And honestly? It didn’t sit well with me from the start.

The first issue was the recommended online course. I was on a waitlist, which ended up being a blessing in disguise. I was working a job that had me traveling constantly across the country—there was no realistic way I could log in consistently at the scheduled times. I would’ve failed before I even started.

I also applied for credentials, and… well, that was a wake-up call. (You can read about that experience here.) My clients didn’t care about my professional journey. They didn’t ask about credentials. They didn’t want to know about my course plans or associations. They wanted answers. Period. That experience made me reevaluate what I actually needed to build a meaningful and sustainable business. As an educator, I value credentials to insure that somene is competent in their field and I planned to one day revisit genealogical credentializing (more to come soon!) but that step didn't impact my growing business.

Then came the topic of fees.

I understood the argument from those already well-established in the field. They were charging high rates and worried that my lower fees might undercut the “market.” I get it. I was the Big Lots to their Macy’s.

But charging what they charged didn’t feel right to me. I knew the people I wanted to help—those searching for answers, sometimes quietly and painfully—couldn’t afford boutique pricing. And that mattered more to me.

To this day, I still undercharge. And you know what? I’m okay with that. I’m at peace with that decision. And all those pros who once told me what I had to do? They’ve since retired from genealogy. Their path wasn’t mine.

Maybe they meant well. Or maybe they wanted to keep genealogy as a kind of exclusive club. But that’s not how I see it.

I believe everyone deserves access to their family history—for medical reasons, for breaking cycles, for healing, for honoring those who came before us. I believe in empowering people to understand their story.

That’s why I’ve learned to be who I am, not what others think I should be. It’s my business. I run it my way.

In last week’s post, I mentioned how I wished I’d had a mentor early on. Let me clarify that—I wish I’d had someone who listened to me. Someone who supported who I was and what I valued. Not someone trying to mold me into something else.

If you’re thinking about going pro, here’s my advice: Find someone you connect with. Someone whose values align with yours. Years ago, I turned down the chance to mentor someone in another state. This was pre-Zoom, and I wasn’t sure phone mentoring would be effective. I suggested she find someone local instead. I never heard from her again, and I still wonder if she gave up on genealogy altogether. That thought saddens me.

So if you have the passion and the desire to go pro—don’t let anyone stand in your way. Especially not someone telling you there's only one right path. Because in genealogy, just like in life, the best path is the one that feels right to you.

The Summer of My Genealogical Discontent Lesson 6 – Failing to join an organization

 

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I’ve had a passion for genealogy for as long as I can remember—I just didn’t know it had a name.

As a child, I was drawn to the family stories my grandmother told and captivated by her scrapbooks and photo albums filled with long-ago faces and forgotten events. The mystery of my paternal side, which no one ever discussed, only deepened my curiosity. As a teenager, I started searching for answers—but not knowing what I was doing, I didn’t get far. College and life pulled me away for a while.

When my first child was born, I eagerly opened the baby book—only to find I couldn’t complete the family tree. I knew my paternal grandparents, but beyond that? Nothing. My dad told me he’d give me a family book I hadn’t known existed—someday. But when that day came, and he passed, the book never made its way to me. My stepmother found it too much trouble to mail.

So I turned to the internet, which was just beginning to bloom, and took a beginner class at a local Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In hindsight, what I really needed back then was a mentor—someone to show me the ropes, answer my endless questions, and guide me along the path. I should have joined a local or national organization. But with a full-time job, kids to raise, elders to care for, a house to run—and no extra money to spare—I didn’t.

Instead, I used every scrap of free time to work on my tree. I shared my excitement with colleagues, though most didn’t understand why I’d spend vacation time at the Family History Library in Salt Lake. Still, when they had family mysteries, they came to me. I happily helped, and they were amazed at what I uncovered.

More requests came in. I never charged a cent—it never occurred to me to think of myself as a professional.

Then one day, a former boss told me, “You know, people would probably pay you to do this.” I was stunned—and, honestly, panicked. I thought he was letting me go and hinting I should start a business in the middle of a recession. He laughed and clarified: “You’re very good at this. You could turn it into something real.”

I set that thought aside. Life was already complicated.

But as the kids grew up and moved out, I finally had more time—and a little more money. I joined a local society and two national organizations. I attended conferences, subscribed to journals, and slowly built my confidence. I chose a name for my business: Genealogy At Heart, because I wanted to focus on what I loved—helping people uncover those sensitive family secrets. With my background in education and counseling, it was a natural fit.

What I didn’t know? That there were resources out there to help me from the start. I hadn’t heard of SCORE, a free business mentoring service. I didn’t know about the Association of Professional Genealogists, which offers tools, advice, and a sense of community. Had I joined an organization earlier—whether a local society or a national group—I would have had a much smoother beginning as a business owner.

Genealogy can feel like a solitary pursuit. We stay up late combing through records, take solo road trips to distant archives, and keep quiet at family gatherings to avoid the eye rolls. But it doesn’t have to be lonely. And it shouldn’t be.

Today, I’m actively involved in several genealogical organizations. They’ve helped me refine my research, consult with experts, and become a better genealogist—not just for clients, but for my own family, too. I no longer rely solely on myself, and I’ve learned that collaboration isn’t a luxury—it’s a strength.

Looking back, I can only imagine how much further I’d be if I’d learned this lesson sooner. But I’m glad I did.

The Summer of My Genealogical Discontent Lesson 5 - Software Shuffle

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Welcome to another installment in my continuing series on genealogical misadventures! Today’s topic: my long, bumpy road with technology.

I’ve always embraced tech—but it didn’t always embrace me back.

Back in college, I took a programming course in PLC. The professor told us to throw out the textbook and “go with our gut.” Let’s just say... my gut wasn’t fluent in code. I had signed up for the course because my then-boyfriend (now husband) raved about it. Mid semester, I switched to a new instructor—Dr. Birkin, a kind man with a charming British accent who actually used the textbook. I passed the class, but the experience left me scarred. We were still programming with punch cards back then, and one typo could bring the whole system down. I managed to do exactly that once—and earned a full hour of death stares from the engineering students.

So, when software for genealogy came along, I dove in eagerly—because at least I wasn’t programming it myself! But it turns out software has its own kind of drama.

My big misstep? Relying on just one platform.

At first, I uploaded everything—sources, photos, notes—into Ancestry.com. It was easy. It was convenient. It was also incredibly risky.

Because here’s the thing: if Ancestry ever disappears (and nothing digital is forever), so does everything I’ve painstakingly added. Paranoia, in genealogy, can be a healthy survival strategy. And that means backing up your work in multiple places.

When Family Tree Maker (FTM) was integrated with Ancestry in its early years, I jumped onboard. But then the sync stopped working. Ancestry blamed FTM. FTM blamed Ancestry. I spent a year caught in the crossfire, and finally gave up. So did Ancestry—they ditched FTM and partnered with RootsMagic instead.

I gave RootsMagic a try. I liked it—until it came time to update my records. One. At. A. Time. It was tedious, and I let it slide. Eventually, that program stopped cooperating too.

I also dabbled with Legacy Family Tree. I appreciated its features, but the downside? It doesn’t sync with Ancestry. My sources were preserved—but not my photos or documents. Still, it remains part of my backup plan.

Then, about three years ago, Family Tree Maker came back around with an offer. After a helpful chat with their support team, I gave them another shot. The sync worked again—thankfully—just as RootsMagic had failed me.

So, what have I learned from this revolving door of software?

Stay current. Stay flexible. And never trust your entire tree to a single platform.

Test new tools. Keep your programs updated. And most importantly, store your research in more than one place—cloud, external drive, software, even printed backups. Because when one system crashes (and eventually, it will), you’ll have something to fall back on.

If you think you’re immune to tech mishaps, I’ll leave you with this: the only thing more painful than lost records… is knowing you had them, once.

The Summer of My Genealogical Discontent, Lesson 4 - Confidence

 

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This is a continuing in my series on mistakes I made as a beginning genealogist. If you missed the earlier lessons, you can read about my trust issues with online trees, family lore, and source saving habits here, here, and here.

Let’s talk about confidence—or more accurately, the lack of it.

My first family tree was on paper. In 1983, my husband bought a TI-84 computer and a family tree cartridge. It allowed basic data entry but had one glaring flaw: no printer. And with no real internet access at the time, there was no way to share the tree beyond showing someone the screen.

By 1995, I’d discovered FamilySearch.org and quickly entered my 50 or so known family members into their online tree. Then came RootsWeb, and I uploaded my FamilySearch .paf file there. The tech was improving—and so were my skills—but confidence? That was still lagging behind.

I loved experimenting with new tools, but reliable records online were scarce, local training was hit-or-miss, and no one was talking about things like the Genealogical Proof Standard. Source citations? Not really a thing yet. DNA testing for genealogy didn’t exist. And AI—well, that sounded like science fiction.

In hindsight, I’m grateful the tools rolled out gradually. It allowed my learning to grow alongside the technology, making the whole experience feel manageable, even exciting.

Still, I was the new kid on the block. At local library presentations, I was often the youngest person in the room.

I wish I could say the older attendees embraced my enthusiasm, but... not so much. I was mostly ignored, and at times, subtly reminded that I lacked their decades of experience—which, let’s be honest, wasn’t inaccurate.

By the early 2000s, Ancestry.com had entered the scene, and I converted my old .paf file into a .gedcom and uploaded it. And almost immediately, I ran into resistance.

A DAR woman messaged me—clipped, curt, and in all caps—insisting I had made an error and must correct it IMMEDIATELY.

Embarrassed, I complied. I removed the ancestor in question and replied that my tree had been "corrected."

But about a year later, I revisited that line after new records came online—probate records, in fact. And guess what? My original hunch had been right. So I added the ancestor back.

Not long after, the same woman messaged again, demanding I remove the name. This time, I had proof—and I told her so.

No response. Until a year later, when she messaged me once more, threatening to report me to Ancestry for ignoring her third “polite request.”

This time, I stood my ground. I reminded her that I had previously provided documentation and warned that if she contacted me again, I would be reporting her for harassment.

She didn’t write back.

Now, I’m no longer the youngest in the room. I’m one of the “old genealogists”—and I try hard not to repeat the mistakes made by those who once made me feel small. That’s part of why I’ve written this series: to let beginners know that we’ve all been there.

No one gets everything right. Not at the beginning, not even later. But we get better. We grow through doing, through missteps, through asking questions, and through helping each other.

Confidence in genealogy doesn’t come from having all the answers—it comes from being willing to keep learning. And I hope I never stop.