"Diary of a Dead Woman" was born several years ago when I stopped into an estate sale in my town and picked up an old diary. The diary belonged to the woman who had died in order for this estate sale to happen.
The diary wasn't significant; in fact it was probably boring to the organizer of the sale. The writing was from the early 1940s and captured the time when her two children were infants. It chronicled her daily life, detailing everything from diaper changes to visits with friends.
What was significant to me was that this wasn't important to anyone anymore. A person had lived. She had given life to two human beings. She had loved them and wrote about how much she cared for them. She thoroughly thought out why she was doing the things she did, and found them significant enough herself to write it out. She had kept this diary with her throughout the years, even moving it with her across the country more than once.
When she died, her family hired an outside firm to come to the house and help them sort through her things. The family took what they felt was important to them, and put the rest on display to be purchased for a dollar here, ten dollars there. Family heirlooms, photographs, diaries. None of these things were important to her children, her grandchildren, or their children.
I'm sure they have things that were important to them. But, for some reason, her earliest thoughts on what it was like to be a young mother in rural New York were not interesting to her family.
Later, my husband inherited two old violins, which were fabled to have belonged to a famous violinist from the turn of the 19th century. In the double case were enough handwritten notes to give us some clues as to who she was. Unfortunately, it wasn't a lot.
With the help of the few effects from inside the case and the internet, we were able to piece together an outline of her life. Unfortunately, once she got married, she ceased to be. She then became "Mrs." and all information about her was tied directly to how she reflected her husband's presence in the world.
In my quest to find her, I found her mother, her sisters, her sisters-in-law. Once again, their lives were only shadows of who their husbands were. They had dreams and hopes and desires, but all were shelved when the title "Mrs." replaced their first names. In some cases, divorce or death took even that title away and they were ever more lost to the history books.
(Update 07/21/2023)
While philosophically, it has been frustrating to not know a lot about women from previous generations, there are several tools available to search genealogy. This site aims to share the progress I've made in learning more about the violinist and her family, and to understand her life. I also intend to share tricks on researching as well as certain pitfalls to avoid when practicing genealogy and learning about your own ancestry.
We've been on this journey for about seven years, and it's been slow going. Over time, we've been able to unearth more clues to help us understand where to look, and additionally genealogy tools have become more sophisticated. I've subscribed to websites only to find out that I was duplicating my efforts. I've spent weeks going down the wrong rabbit holes, but I've also hit the jackpot a few times.
Over time, I thought I wanted to write a fictional account of who I thought the violinist was, but realized that there are living people who are also distantly related, and they might either be hurt by the fictionalized version I created, or even worse - I could unintentionally create a life that never happened and it could be misconstrued as truth to attach to a genealogical record.
So, after many years of pondering how to write the story, my husband and I have decided to tell the story as it's unfolded through our search. It may take a while, and I'm certain I will uncover new information that I can share in the future.
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