Early last month, I made a promise to myself to finally – and once and for all – get my family history records and photos in order. It seems I spend more time looking for that “perfect photo” that will beautifully illustrate my blog – or more time digging for that “perfect record” that I was sure I found six months ago – than I do blogging or researching. It’s making me nuts!

At first I thought I might participate in The Genealogy Do-Over proposed by Thomas MacAntee but somehow it didn’t seem a good fit for me at this time – although I see the value in his system and I expect I’ll explore that process once I’m more organized.

After some internet searching, I came across Dear Myrtle’s FINALLY Get Organized system, which seemed like a better fit. It’s been slow going but I’m seeing the benefits already. And her organization system makes a lot of sense to me. I’ve been doing family history since my teens and have never come up with a filing system that quite works. But so far, her filing recommendations for both hard copy and digital files are working well.

The biggest surprise has to do with transcribing documents, which Dear Myrtle strongly recommends. I’ve always known in the back of my head I would have to do this task some day – but I’ve been putting it off. And I’m actually pleased to report just how beneficial transcribing a document can be. In several instances so far, I’ve discovered “new” information in documents I’ve had for years, but have never taken the time to analyze.

Here’s just one example: the 1940 U.S. Census record for my father’s parents, Cid and Fran Dalin. Just by taking a few minutes to transcribe this document, I learned a few new things about my grandparents:

• My grandfather only had an 8th grade education.
• In 1939, he had a steady job working 40 hours a week, as a shipping clerk in a cigar store. He earned $1,500 that year and did not receive money from any other source.
• My grandmother had a high school education.
• I could tell by the address given in the census that the family was living in the house that my father helped his father build – the one I had always visited as a child. But lately I had become curious to know when they actually moved into that house. Well, according to the census, they also lived in that house in 1935. I knew from the 1930 census that they lived in their “old” home next door in 1930 – so now I know they moved into the new house some time between 1930 and 1935.

These are the little details that family historians love to find. Yes, they are facts – but they’re the kind of facts that help fill in a story.

This is a picture of the house where my father lived with his family in 1940. The photo was probably taken about 1946, several years before siding was installed on the main part of the house.

I have so many fond memories of this house.

Every summer when we made our annual car trip all the way from New Mexico to Montana, my sister and I couldn’t wait to finally drive up the alley and park in front of the garage in back. We would hop out of the car and run up the sidewalk between the clothes line and the porch, squealing with joy to see our grandmother who was waiting for us at the back door. Funny, but I don’t remember ever coming through the front door of that house.

I love this house. And every summer, I make a special trip over to her old neighborhood – just to drive up the alley to that garage.

And that back porch. I remember sleeping with my sister on a day bed on that back porch. With a cool and fragrant summer breeze coming through the windows, it was a little bit of heaven.

And that yard is where I played with my cousins, for hours and hours on long summer nights, while our parents visited inside with my grandmother. They are truly some of my happiest childhood memories. I was never envious of my friends who went to Disneyland for their summer vacations. My “Disneyland” was playing with my cousins in that yard.

And I loved hearing my father reminisce about helping his father build this house (one summer I helped my Dad build an addition onto our house so these stories were special to me). The last time he spoke of it was several years after he’d begun suffering from Alzheimer’s. He was having a hard time finding words then, but you could tell he was happy recalling those days spent with his father. One thing he said confused me, though. He talked about helping his father cut down the trees and strip the bark to make the logs to build the house. I thought he was confused because he had never before mentioned that the house was made of logs.

Several years after my father passed, I came across the photo above – which clearly shows the house was made of logs. As a little girl, I had only seen the house as shown in the photo below – after the siding had been added.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention my grandmother’s beautiful garden. It was known by neighbors as the “Dalin Park”. She was an amazing gardener.

So for those of you family historians that haven’t taken the time to get organized and start transcribing documents – and I know there are lot of you out there – don’t wait a minute longer! Give it a try and I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.