That's where I've been for several months on sharing one of my newest and greatest discoveries... because it's not quite finished yet. And maybe never will be.
As I've mentioned previously, neither one of my grandmothers knew their biological fathers. I've just talked about my maternal grandmother and her Italian roots. Finding that family and getting to know their story has been in the works for fifteen years, and has been one of the greatest joys of my life. I was walking on air for weeks afterwards, burying myself as deep into Italian research as I possibly could until I couldn't do anything else.
I was so hyped up on that discovery, I couldn't be stopped. I decided that once and for all, I was going to solve the mystery of my paternal grandmother too. And having ruled out the cousin matches from a major section of my tree, I felt confident that there was no reason I couldn't succeed. I didn't care how many nights of sleep I lost. I would do it because fifteen years is long enough to stare at a gaping hole in your family tree. I wanted that part of my identity to be filled in, and I was tired of waiting.
So I spent hundreds of dollars on additional testing. I worked the DNA Day sales to death. I won't tell you how many kits I purchased. But I'd learned from researching my Italian family that the drop-off rate for cousin matches over even a single generation was much more than I imagined. It was likely my sample just wasn't pulling in the cousin matches I needed to solve the problem. I needed to fish in someone else's pond who had DNA I just didn't inherit.
My sister was among the people I tested. And sure enough, she had the matches I was missing. None of what I'm about to share would have come together without her. And true to the same pattern I followed with my mother's family, I found the ancestors I had in common with my cousin matches, then worked forward through their descendants until I arrived at the correct family who is related to me.
The unique thing about this case is that, in the process of doing that, I was actually able to document various older branches of this tree long before I narrowed Emily's connection to any specific list of men. And in many ways, I'm much more sure of my great grandfather's ancestors than I am of his identity at the moment, having documented his lineage across the Commonwealth.
Emily Michaels: She's British!
Let's pick up in 1939 in Ontario, Canada. That's where my grandmother Emily Michaels was born. She was born to Muriel Ince Michaels, who was abandoned by her husband several years previously, which I've talked about before. And unlike the rest of her Caribbean family, Muriel was the only person living in Ontario province. Everyone else was in Montreal, having moved there together from Halifax, Nova Scotia during World War II. Living apart from the entire extended family was not typical for them. How she came to be in the area surrounding Toronto and why is a mystery I've not yet solved. But I do know she gave birth there.
I may not know who her birth father is yet, but I do know who his parents are--and by extension, much of his heritage. To get to this point, I had to find the relationship between several different cousin matches I knew had to be related to Emily because they weren't related to anyone else. And for a long time I couldn't find any relationship between those matches, even though they were all supposed to be related. Then I got a much closer cousin match who tied them all together, and started working from her tree. If I could find the relationship between her and all our shared matches, I could narrow down who in her tree had to be Emily's birth father.
So that's what I did. I made a copy of her tree and went to work. The closer I looked at her tree and our shared matches, the more certain I was that I was on the right track. Based on the amount of DNA we shared and our relationship estimate, I was pretty sure I'd found our common ancestors. The only way for us to share the cousin matches we had, spread across England and Canada, was if she and I shared Charles Newman-Jones and Ada Cheffins in our trees.
Charles Richard Newman-Jones was born in Kent, England, which he left as a young man to start a new life in Canada. He met and married Ada Maud Cheffins, who descends from an English father and a mother whose stock goes back to early settlers in Canada. Charles and Ada were married in Regina, Saskatchewan, where they had their children and spent their lives together. They moved to the Northumberland region of Ontario some time between 1921 and 1924. Charles died and was buried in St. John's Anglican Church Cemetery in Port Hope, Ontario, Canada.
Put a pin in that last piece of information. We're going to come back to it.
They had four sons: Eric, Lewis, Charles, and Elton. I'm still working out which one of them is Emily's father and how he would have come to know Muriel. My theories up until now have all centered around brief encounters and accidental conception, with no further contact and a birth father who had no idea my grandmother existed.
The one thing that makes me question that now is a single record I never saw until after my grandmother passed away.
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| The Cradle Roll certificate for Emily Michaels From Saint John's Anglican Church in Port Hope, Ontario, Canada |
It took me a long time to figure out what this certificate was because I'd never heard of a Cradle Roll before. An archivist explained to me that it was a children's auxiliary in the Anglican church, and this certificate would have been issued after she was baptized. And you'll notice the church it was issued from is...
(Wait for it)
...Saint John's Anglican Church in Port Hope, Ontario, Canada.
Charles Newman-Jones was buried at the same church where my grandmother was baptized. Whatever the full story is, it's not as simple as a connection between two people who never saw each other again.
Getting Closer
The only way to narrow down the situation from here is to analyze DNA from descendants of each Charles and Ada's children. And to date, we've been able to document DNA from two of them. It may not be possible to obtain a sample from the youngest because he has no known biological descendants, having lived as an openly gay man. That is not to say he has no descendants. It would be inappropriate to exclude him from consideration based on his sexuality alone. Gay men throughout history have been involved with women and conceived children. But based on the conversations I've had with members of his extended family, they know of no children he may have had. And for all we know right now, my grandmother could be his only descendant.
It's strange to think that it's possible to fill in our family tree with perfect certainty around and beyond this one person because of DNA. Everything I've learned from traditional research is screaming at me that it shouldn't be possible to just skip a generation like this. But I've said it before and I'll say it again: DNA doesn't care about your feelings and hang-ups. All it can do is tell the truth.
And the truth is, the story that's emerging is stranger than fiction. And I can only hope that more answers are out there, just waiting to be uncovered.