Reflecting on My Genealogy Roots

Jessica Gosnell, Co-Founder of Embracing Your History

Family history has a way of tugging at your sleeve long before you realize it’s calling your name. For me, that spark lit early. My childhood is stitched together with memories of my dad hunched over our dining room table, carefully tracing the branches of our family tree. This was long before online databases or digital archives, back when genealogy research meant courthouse visits, library hunts, and afternoons spent in the Family History Library tucked beneath the local meetinghouse of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

His beloved Book of Remembrance, legal-sized, expandable, and at least four inches thick, was practically a character in our home. Its five-generation charts and pedigree pages felt like secret passageways into the past.

The Visit That Changed Everything

My earliest genealogy memory arrived wrapped in excitement and the scent of old paper. My dad’s distant cousin, Shirley, pregnant at the time and glowing with purpose, traveled from northern Indiana to our home in western North Carolina. She brought with her what felt like an entire archive: binders, photocopies, handwritten notes, and dog-eared books.

Our rarely used dining room was transformed into a buzzing research headquarters. Papers spread across the table like a patchwork quilt of our heritage. Shirley’s dedication eventually became a published book on the Phillips family line, a treasure I still hold dear.

And then came the moment that hooked me for life: finding my own name printed in its pages. I must have stared at it for hours, amazed that I was part of something bigger, older, and beautifully interconnected.

The Keeper of the Records

As I grew older, I learned the story behind those books. My grandfather had made sure every child and grandchild received a copy, except one. The last person to ask would inherit their parent’s copy. I wasn’t about to leave that to chance. In my late teens, I proudly claimed mine.

To this day, I laugh when I flip to my entry. My birthdate is wrong. In the very book meant to preserve our family’s truth. I’m sure it was just a typo, not that my father, who was present at my birth, forgot the date.

But that tiny mistake taught me one of the most important lessons in family history research: Always verify with original sources. Books can be wrong. Trees can be wrong. Oral histories can be wrong. Even the most well-intentioned genealogist can slip.

Your Turn to Remember

For seasoned researchers, revisiting your earliest genealogy memories can deepen your sense of purpose. What first pulled you in? Who inspired you? What discovery made your heart race?

For beginners, your journey might start with identifying your family’s unofficial historian, the keeper of old photos, family Bibles, and heirlooms. Every family has one. Ask questions. Listen closely. Share what you learn. Becoming the next custodian of your family’s story might be closer than you think.

A Journey With No End

Family history is an endless path of curiosity, connection, and love. Whether you’ve been researching for decades or you’re just dipping your toes in, I hope you’ll keep going. Every story you preserve becomes a gift to the generations who follow.

If you’re feeling that pull, that quiet curiosity about where you come from, follow it. Start small. Ask a question. Open the conversation. And if you find yourself wanting a little guidance along the way, we’re here. We’d be honored to help you begin, or to help you keep going.