I am always bothered by the loose use of heritage in place of ancestry.
Some of my ancestors were from England and some were from Germany. When I went to England, I was called a Yank. When I went to Germany, I was called an Ausländer (foreigner).
It always amazes me when people call themselves Swedish or Italian or ... but can't speak a word of Swedish or Italian. Having lived in both Sweden and Italy I facetiously call my self more Swedish or Italian than many in the U.S. I not only learned the languages, but I read the local newspapers and many books.
My nationality: American. My heritage: lower middle class Clevelander.
Published at
http://www.nytimes.com/2017/08/28/science/dna-tests-ancestry.html?comments#permid=23901670.
Amazing! As of this posting, my comment received 30 recommends. Generally, my comments receive 0 to 3 recommends.
Showing posts with label family history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family history. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Thursday, March 17, 2016
I am American, not Irish!
“On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish!” Really? Just what is Irish? Is it the ruffian who flung his elbow in my face as he passed me in Killkenny? Or is it the people named McGree who invited me to their home for dinner? Is it the parish priest who let me look through church records? Or is it the woman who smoked in the no-smoking car on the train back to Dublin. Just like any other group, ethnic, religious, or skin hue, there are many different behaviors from the generous to the hateful.
One St. Patrick’s Day, my mother proclaimed that we were “Orange-Irish”. I don’t think she had a clue. If she knew the ancestry of my paternal grandfather, she certainly didn’t pass it on to me. Neither did my German-born paternal grandmother.
From all the genealogical research I’ve done, it seems that the surname Magree, McGree, or MacGree comes from Ireland. However, from all the genealogical research I’ve done, I have found no ancestor in my male line that was definitively born in Ireland.
The closest was my great grandfather, John J.R. Magree, who variously claimed to be born in Brooklyn or England. In the last year or two I found that he was born in Liverpool of an American and a woman living in Liverpool. Her name was Margaret Pope. Her father was a customs officer, and so I assume she was not born in Ireland.
John James Richard Magree’s father was John Cornelius Magree, who generally went by John C. Magree. I did find a record of his getting his seaman’s certificate in 1833 at the age of 15. In the 1850 census he was listed first in a crew of a ship in New York or Brooklyn. In 1851 he was the master of the ship Ivanhoe bringing about 400 immigrants from Liverpool to New York. Most of the passengers were Irish. I did not find a Margaret Pope or Margaret Magree in the passenger list.
I did link John C. Magree to his father twice. John C.’s marriage document named his father as Vincent Magree. The 1830 Census did list Vincent Magree’s household as containing a male about 12 years old.
With Ancestor,com, I can find no record other than these two of Vincent Magree. I wonder if he (or others) anglicized his name from Vincenzo Magri to Vincent Magree. I have found records where a Magri has also been named Magree. It’s possible that my paternal line comes from Italy; one relative told me that one of uncles looked “Spanish”. I do know that I was one of the few “curly-haired” males in my family.
Just who are these “Irish” that the English of another time called a “race”? We do know they were Celts who drove out another group. Was this displaced group the “fairies”? But then the Vikings came raping and pillaging. After that another wave of Vikings came, but they were called Normans (Norse men). But the Normans had settled in France, so are the Irish French? Partly! Names like Fitzpatrick come from the French Fils-Patrick, meaning son of Patrick. Then the English came a-pillaging and taking land. This invasion was so devastating that many Irish left for the Americas and Australia.
When the descendants of the Irish immigrants to Australia come to the United States, what do we call them? Australians!
I do know that many grandchildren of people who immigrated to other countries are often labelled with their ancestry, but I don’t know if these labels persist for so many generations as they do in the U.S. I enjoy springing the question “What nationality is the King of Sweden?” By American reckoning he is French. He is a descendant of one of Napoleon’s marshals: Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte! Some often respond that Queen Elizabeth II is German. She’s a descendant of Prince Albert of Saxony.
What are people who immigrate to the U.S. or their descendants called when they go back the “Old Country”? Americans! I read one Swedish novel where a man worked in Chicago for several years, came back to his home town, and was labelled as “American”. I read another where a second-generation woman came back, could hardly speak Swedish, and was called “American”.
I was an “Ugly American” in Europe for six years. If you read “The Ugly American” you know that he was the good guy in the local view and the “bad guy” in the expatriate community. “The Ugly American” learned the language and customs of the host country, and he didn’t spend all of his time in the “country club” American community.
I worked on learning the languages of the countries I visited and used them both in speaking and reading. A few others didn’t even make an attempt and were miserable. In fact, one European colleague called me a “Northern European” because I worked at blending in.
But I can’t resist being the other kind of “Ugly American” in this country. When someone says they are Swedish or Italian, I ask “Talar du svenska?” or “Parlai italiano?” “Do you speak Swedish?” or “Do you speak Italian?” Generally the response is either befuddlement or a negative reply.
So, this assumed descendant of some Irish immigrant won’t be drinking green beer on St. Patrick’s Day. As much as he likes Guinness or Smithwick, he will probably be drinking a couple of glasses of Italian wine. Sláinte or cin-cin!
Also printed in the Reader Weekly of Duluth, 2016-03-17 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2016/03/17/6888_i_am_american_not_irish.
P.S. About green beer and other "Irish" fare, see http://www.nytimes.com/2016/03/18/dining/corned-beef-and-cabbage-not-so-irish-historians-say.html.
One St. Patrick’s Day, my mother proclaimed that we were “Orange-Irish”. I don’t think she had a clue. If she knew the ancestry of my paternal grandfather, she certainly didn’t pass it on to me. Neither did my German-born paternal grandmother.
From all the genealogical research I’ve done, it seems that the surname Magree, McGree, or MacGree comes from Ireland. However, from all the genealogical research I’ve done, I have found no ancestor in my male line that was definitively born in Ireland.
The closest was my great grandfather, John J.R. Magree, who variously claimed to be born in Brooklyn or England. In the last year or two I found that he was born in Liverpool of an American and a woman living in Liverpool. Her name was Margaret Pope. Her father was a customs officer, and so I assume she was not born in Ireland.
John James Richard Magree’s father was John Cornelius Magree, who generally went by John C. Magree. I did find a record of his getting his seaman’s certificate in 1833 at the age of 15. In the 1850 census he was listed first in a crew of a ship in New York or Brooklyn. In 1851 he was the master of the ship Ivanhoe bringing about 400 immigrants from Liverpool to New York. Most of the passengers were Irish. I did not find a Margaret Pope or Margaret Magree in the passenger list.
I did link John C. Magree to his father twice. John C.’s marriage document named his father as Vincent Magree. The 1830 Census did list Vincent Magree’s household as containing a male about 12 years old.
With Ancestor,com, I can find no record other than these two of Vincent Magree. I wonder if he (or others) anglicized his name from Vincenzo Magri to Vincent Magree. I have found records where a Magri has also been named Magree. It’s possible that my paternal line comes from Italy; one relative told me that one of uncles looked “Spanish”. I do know that I was one of the few “curly-haired” males in my family.
Just who are these “Irish” that the English of another time called a “race”? We do know they were Celts who drove out another group. Was this displaced group the “fairies”? But then the Vikings came raping and pillaging. After that another wave of Vikings came, but they were called Normans (Norse men). But the Normans had settled in France, so are the Irish French? Partly! Names like Fitzpatrick come from the French Fils-Patrick, meaning son of Patrick. Then the English came a-pillaging and taking land. This invasion was so devastating that many Irish left for the Americas and Australia.
When the descendants of the Irish immigrants to Australia come to the United States, what do we call them? Australians!
I do know that many grandchildren of people who immigrated to other countries are often labelled with their ancestry, but I don’t know if these labels persist for so many generations as they do in the U.S. I enjoy springing the question “What nationality is the King of Sweden?” By American reckoning he is French. He is a descendant of one of Napoleon’s marshals: Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte! Some often respond that Queen Elizabeth II is German. She’s a descendant of Prince Albert of Saxony.
What are people who immigrate to the U.S. or their descendants called when they go back the “Old Country”? Americans! I read one Swedish novel where a man worked in Chicago for several years, came back to his home town, and was labelled as “American”. I read another where a second-generation woman came back, could hardly speak Swedish, and was called “American”.
I was an “Ugly American” in Europe for six years. If you read “The Ugly American” you know that he was the good guy in the local view and the “bad guy” in the expatriate community. “The Ugly American” learned the language and customs of the host country, and he didn’t spend all of his time in the “country club” American community.
I worked on learning the languages of the countries I visited and used them both in speaking and reading. A few others didn’t even make an attempt and were miserable. In fact, one European colleague called me a “Northern European” because I worked at blending in.
But I can’t resist being the other kind of “Ugly American” in this country. When someone says they are Swedish or Italian, I ask “Talar du svenska?” or “Parlai italiano?” “Do you speak Swedish?” or “Do you speak Italian?” Generally the response is either befuddlement or a negative reply.
So, this assumed descendant of some Irish immigrant won’t be drinking green beer on St. Patrick’s Day. As much as he likes Guinness or Smithwick, he will probably be drinking a couple of glasses of Italian wine. Sláinte or cin-cin!
Also printed in the Reader Weekly of Duluth, 2016-03-17 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2016/03/17/6888_i_am_american_not_irish.
P.S. About green beer and other "Irish" fare, see http://www.nytimes.com/2016/03/18/dining/corned-beef-and-cabbage-not-so-irish-historians-say.html.
Wednesday, October 09, 2013
Distortions in family history
If you are working on your family history, be careful of what you are told. What you are told could be made up or it could be misinterpreted. Document everything and then crosscheck it with other documents.
The most blatant tale that I can think of is what my mother told me around a St. Patrick's Day. She said, "We are Orange Irish." One, her ancestors were from England and Germany, not Ireland. Two, she didn't know any of her in-laws besides her U.S. born father-in-law and German-born mother-in-law.
So far, I have found only one Magree ancestor going back four generations that was not born in the United States. My great grandfather, John James Richard Magree, was born in Liverpool, England of an American father and an English mother. Given that her maiden name was Pope, she may or may not have had Irish ancestors. Many Irish immigrated to Liverpool. However, all of the other records that I have for him say he was born in the U.S. and more specifically in Brooklyn.
I do know that the name Magree is centered in Kilkenny, Ireland and some of those Magrees are buried in a Catholic Church cemetery. If my Magree ancestors were from there, they most likely would have been Catholic.
I was told that my grandfather was born in Poughkeepsie, New York. But his death certificate gives Brooklyn, his parents were in a Brooklyn city directory at the time of his birth, and one of his sister's birth certificates gives that same address. But somebody else on ancestry.com has that sister born in Poughkeepsie!
I read the death certificate of my paternal grandmother's father as his birthplace being "Schlossing"; the information was provided by one of his sons. Knowing my grandmother was born in Germany I kept looking for a town with that name. Then it dawned on me that it should be "Schlesien", German for Silesia. Silesia is now mostly in Poland. Somebody else on ancestry.com had his birth as "Schlassing". As part of checking if my grandmother may have been Catholic, I looked up Silesia. I learned that there is a Silesian German and the speakers call themselves Schlässinger. I have since found out that my grandmother's town of leaving was called Osseg; it is now Osiek in Polish.
I have learned so much family history in the last thirty years, but I will need another thirty years to even fill in details about the people whose names I know.
But, regardless of where my ancestors came from, I do not consider myself Orange Irish or Green Irish or German or Polish or even Brooklynite:) My nationality is American!
See also What nationality are you? An irrelevant question!
The most blatant tale that I can think of is what my mother told me around a St. Patrick's Day. She said, "We are Orange Irish." One, her ancestors were from England and Germany, not Ireland. Two, she didn't know any of her in-laws besides her U.S. born father-in-law and German-born mother-in-law.
So far, I have found only one Magree ancestor going back four generations that was not born in the United States. My great grandfather, John James Richard Magree, was born in Liverpool, England of an American father and an English mother. Given that her maiden name was Pope, she may or may not have had Irish ancestors. Many Irish immigrated to Liverpool. However, all of the other records that I have for him say he was born in the U.S. and more specifically in Brooklyn.
I do know that the name Magree is centered in Kilkenny, Ireland and some of those Magrees are buried in a Catholic Church cemetery. If my Magree ancestors were from there, they most likely would have been Catholic.
I was told that my grandfather was born in Poughkeepsie, New York. But his death certificate gives Brooklyn, his parents were in a Brooklyn city directory at the time of his birth, and one of his sister's birth certificates gives that same address. But somebody else on ancestry.com has that sister born in Poughkeepsie!
I read the death certificate of my paternal grandmother's father as his birthplace being "Schlossing"; the information was provided by one of his sons. Knowing my grandmother was born in Germany I kept looking for a town with that name. Then it dawned on me that it should be "Schlesien", German for Silesia. Silesia is now mostly in Poland. Somebody else on ancestry.com had his birth as "Schlassing". As part of checking if my grandmother may have been Catholic, I looked up Silesia. I learned that there is a Silesian German and the speakers call themselves Schlässinger. I have since found out that my grandmother's town of leaving was called Osseg; it is now Osiek in Polish.
I have learned so much family history in the last thirty years, but I will need another thirty years to even fill in details about the people whose names I know.
But, regardless of where my ancestors came from, I do not consider myself Orange Irish or Green Irish or German or Polish or even Brooklynite:) My nationality is American!
See also What nationality are you? An irrelevant question!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
How many people have you forgotten?
A few weeks ago an executive of an alumni association of a school I attended left a message when he was in town. He later sent me email about getting together and thought we had an affinity because we received degrees close together in the same subject. I responded that I was not interested.
He responded that was OK and asked if I had contact with any of my classmates. I replied that I had only sporadic contact with a couple of people who were in the same high school as I was and started at that college together.
That got me thinking about all the people we've known throughout our lives whom we've lost contact with and have even forgotten. Sometimes if we drop an old acquaintance a line they may or may not respond.
I sent an email several years ago to a classmate who had gone on to be president of the college in which we started together, congratulating him on something of other. He never responded. I sent an email to a classmate at another school who I often hung out with at the student union. He was a professor at another school. He never responded.
Of course, there are a few who have responded but the follow-up is sporadic. I worked with people in various groups for several years. I can't remember the names of some in the group. Of those whom I remember, the correspondence is often a few emails about someone who died and then it lapses.
I think some people make an almost mystical attachment to old acquaintance, especially from high school or college. But it is not shared by others. Often I think the staff of classmates.com puts more enthusiasm into people getting involved than many members of any given class. I know members of my high school class rarely post anything on the message board. I know that I've posted a couple of news items and have had no follow up messages.
One of the most poignant was my memory of a dance. When my date for that dance came to the registration table at a high school reunion, I said, "Ah, my favorite date!" She looked at me and said, "Who are you?" When I gave my name, she said, "Oh!" and walked away.
I think you can get a good sense of how few people share an attachment to their past by looking at donations by percentage of graduating classes in alumni magazines. I've rarely seen it over forty percent. Or if you are interested in family history, how many relatives are even willing to respond to requests for the names of other relatives?
The choir I am in will soon be singing a song with the words, "The past is behind…" I think this is the attitude of many people. They are focused on either the here and now or the future.
He responded that was OK and asked if I had contact with any of my classmates. I replied that I had only sporadic contact with a couple of people who were in the same high school as I was and started at that college together.
That got me thinking about all the people we've known throughout our lives whom we've lost contact with and have even forgotten. Sometimes if we drop an old acquaintance a line they may or may not respond.
I sent an email several years ago to a classmate who had gone on to be president of the college in which we started together, congratulating him on something of other. He never responded. I sent an email to a classmate at another school who I often hung out with at the student union. He was a professor at another school. He never responded.
Of course, there are a few who have responded but the follow-up is sporadic. I worked with people in various groups for several years. I can't remember the names of some in the group. Of those whom I remember, the correspondence is often a few emails about someone who died and then it lapses.
I think some people make an almost mystical attachment to old acquaintance, especially from high school or college. But it is not shared by others. Often I think the staff of classmates.com puts more enthusiasm into people getting involved than many members of any given class. I know members of my high school class rarely post anything on the message board. I know that I've posted a couple of news items and have had no follow up messages.
One of the most poignant was my memory of a dance. When my date for that dance came to the registration table at a high school reunion, I said, "Ah, my favorite date!" She looked at me and said, "Who are you?" When I gave my name, she said, "Oh!" and walked away.
I think you can get a good sense of how few people share an attachment to their past by looking at donations by percentage of graduating classes in alumni magazines. I've rarely seen it over forty percent. Or if you are interested in family history, how many relatives are even willing to respond to requests for the names of other relatives?
The choir I am in will soon be singing a song with the words, "The past is behind…" I think this is the attitude of many people. They are focused on either the here and now or the future.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Family ghosts and computer ghosts
A second cousin once removed recently emailed me about information about her great aunt. "Second cousin once removed" means one of her parents shares a set of great-grandparents with me.
The computer ghosts is that I have a lot of information about our shared ancestry but it is not readily available.
First, I interviewed her great aunt some years ago and have the interview on cassette tape. Problem is, I don't know where that tape is and if I still have extra copies.
Second, I have lots of information in computer files, but mostly in outdated media, like 3.5 inch diskettes.
Third, that information was created by a program I wrote and sold, but all that is on an outdated software system. For those with long memories, it was called Family Events.
Fourth, I still have a computer with that software system on it, but the computer is buried in a closet and needs lots of room to set up. And of course it needs time to set it up.
Fifth, is the information still on that old computer? I remember starting to erase all my data so that the computer could be recycled.
Almost every family has "ghosts", insubstantial personalities that we know very little about. But all the data that one descendant might have collected also becomes ghosts because it is not disseminated to other family members and replicated. This has happened with data on paper and data on computers.
The computer ghosts is that I have a lot of information about our shared ancestry but it is not readily available.
First, I interviewed her great aunt some years ago and have the interview on cassette tape. Problem is, I don't know where that tape is and if I still have extra copies.
Second, I have lots of information in computer files, but mostly in outdated media, like 3.5 inch diskettes.
Third, that information was created by a program I wrote and sold, but all that is on an outdated software system. For those with long memories, it was called Family Events.
Fourth, I still have a computer with that software system on it, but the computer is buried in a closet and needs lots of room to set up. And of course it needs time to set it up.
Fifth, is the information still on that old computer? I remember starting to erase all my data so that the computer could be recycled.
Almost every family has "ghosts", insubstantial personalities that we know very little about. But all the data that one descendant might have collected also becomes ghosts because it is not disseminated to other family members and replicated. This has happened with data on paper and data on computers.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Reconstructing family history
Genealogy once upon a time seemed to be a search for illustrious ancestors. As it became more and more popular for people just to connect back to Europe, people came just as interested in the stories of their ancestors as in the connections of one generation to another. Besides, the stories often gave clues on how to find the connections.
I've been interested in the origins of the name Magree for years, but really didn't make much progress until the 1970s when I stumbled on a whole bunch in Australia. From some of them I found that they could trace their ancestors to Kilkenny, Ireland.
My own personal search stopped with my greatgrandfather, John J.R. Magree who was born in Brooklyn in 1851. I've gathered a few stories about him and his descendants, but I gave up on searching documents to go back further.
Meanwhile, I do a Google search on Magrees and turn up a few I never heard of before. I generally don't follow up because the letter exchange or telephone calls would just eat up time from all the other activities I want to do.
Every so often my curiosity gets the better of me and I attempt to contact someone. I did this recently through classmates.com and got a reply. She gave me some information about her ex-husband. I made the connection to one of my uncles, replied to her, and haven't heard from her since. I probably exhausted her interest in the subject.
However, this led me to reflect on some decades-old issues. My family is not very good on keeping connections up, possibly because of many divorces. I had not seen my paternal grandmother since I was about 7 or 9, but I sent her Christmas cards and maybe birthday cards for a long, long time.
The year after I was married, we drove through Chicago on our way home to Cleveland. I stopped at a phone booth, looked my grandmother up, called her, and she invited us to stop by.
She was living upstairs in a duplex where her youngest son, his wife, and children lived downstairs. My wife and I remember her bitterly complaining about her daughter-in-law.
A couple of nights ago, during a sleepless period, several weeks after I received the message through classmates.com, two explanations about the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law conflict popped into my head.
Both were born in Germany.
My grandmother had come to the U.S. when she was about six, but as an adult she spoke probably only English. Her children would ask for German words but she had a harder and harder time remembering any.
My aunt was the widow of a German soldier and the mother of a young son. She met my uncle, a G.I., after the war and came to the U.S. with her son.
I wonder if there was friction between the two women because 1) my grandmother could no longer speak fluent German and was frustrated, or 2) my grandmother had antipathy towards Germans in general because of the two World Wars.
I may never know. All the principals are dead now except possibly my aunt's first son. I may never get sufficient curiosity to follow up with people who may be reluctant to get involved with distant relatives.
And this is how so many interesting stories get lost or garbled.
I've been interested in the origins of the name Magree for years, but really didn't make much progress until the 1970s when I stumbled on a whole bunch in Australia. From some of them I found that they could trace their ancestors to Kilkenny, Ireland.
My own personal search stopped with my greatgrandfather, John J.R. Magree who was born in Brooklyn in 1851. I've gathered a few stories about him and his descendants, but I gave up on searching documents to go back further.
Meanwhile, I do a Google search on Magrees and turn up a few I never heard of before. I generally don't follow up because the letter exchange or telephone calls would just eat up time from all the other activities I want to do.
Every so often my curiosity gets the better of me and I attempt to contact someone. I did this recently through classmates.com and got a reply. She gave me some information about her ex-husband. I made the connection to one of my uncles, replied to her, and haven't heard from her since. I probably exhausted her interest in the subject.
However, this led me to reflect on some decades-old issues. My family is not very good on keeping connections up, possibly because of many divorces. I had not seen my paternal grandmother since I was about 7 or 9, but I sent her Christmas cards and maybe birthday cards for a long, long time.
The year after I was married, we drove through Chicago on our way home to Cleveland. I stopped at a phone booth, looked my grandmother up, called her, and she invited us to stop by.
She was living upstairs in a duplex where her youngest son, his wife, and children lived downstairs. My wife and I remember her bitterly complaining about her daughter-in-law.
A couple of nights ago, during a sleepless period, several weeks after I received the message through classmates.com, two explanations about the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law conflict popped into my head.
Both were born in Germany.
My grandmother had come to the U.S. when she was about six, but as an adult she spoke probably only English. Her children would ask for German words but she had a harder and harder time remembering any.
My aunt was the widow of a German soldier and the mother of a young son. She met my uncle, a G.I., after the war and came to the U.S. with her son.
I wonder if there was friction between the two women because 1) my grandmother could no longer speak fluent German and was frustrated, or 2) my grandmother had antipathy towards Germans in general because of the two World Wars.
I may never know. All the principals are dead now except possibly my aunt's first son. I may never get sufficient curiosity to follow up with people who may be reluctant to get involved with distant relatives.
And this is how so many interesting stories get lost or garbled.
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