65 Fat Sheep and a Lot of Questions

One of my favorite things about family history is that sometimes a single sentence can open the door to an entire story.

Recently, I was reading a book called Woodstock - An Historical Sketch, published in 1886. The book is one of many local histories written during the late nineteenth century. As the United States approached its centennial in 1876, communities became increasingly interested in preserving their past. Local historians interviewed elderly residents, collected stories passed down through generations, and laboriously researched town records to document the history of their towns before those memories disappeared.

These books are treasures for genealogists!

I have deep roots in Woodstock, Connecticut.  While reading the book, I came across a single sentence describing a town meeting held on June 21, 1774. It stated that a committee had been appointed to send "sixty-five fat sheep" "to alleviate the distressed and suffering circumstances of" the people of Boston.

One of the men on that committee was my ancestor, Jedidiah Morse.

Family member name: Jedidiah Morse, Sr.
Lifetime: 1726 - 1819

Places lived: Woodstock, CT
Tree branch: Pearson

Relation: My 6th great-grandfather (my dad's dad's mom's mom's mom's mom's dad's dad)

That's it. One sentence. But as every family historian knows, one sentence can raise dozens of questions.

* Why did Boston need sixty-five sheep?

* Why were they coming from Woodstock, Connecticut?

* Who decided this was necessary?

* How would anyone transport sixty-five sheep more than sixty miles without trucks, trailers, or modern roads?

* And perhaps most importantly: what did the sheep think about all of this?

The sentence sent me down a research rabbit hole.

To understand the story, I had to look at what was happening in Boston during the spring of 1774.

Six months earlier, the Boston Tea Party had taken place. In response to those rebellious Bostonians, the British government closed Boston Harbor as part of what were known as the Coercive Acts. The closure created economic hardship for many residents because food and necessary supplies could no longer be delivered easily.

Sometimes we just remember big historical events like the Tea Party, but we don't think about what happened next!

Coincidentally, as I was researching this, I made a separate trip to a National Historical Park in Morristown, NJ.  They have a rare document collection and had an original copy of one of the 1774 broadsides (printed announcements) informing Bostonians of the harbor closure. Crazy!

The broadside announcing 1774's closure of Boston Harbor. (From Morristown NHP)

But the sentence in the town history finally made sense. The people of Woodstock weren't simply sending sheep. They were helping fellow New Englanders who were facing difficult circumstances. Many likely had friends, relatives, business partners, or former neighbors living in Boston. What appears in the town record as a simple administrative decision was actually an act of community support.

Then another question occurred to me.  How exactly do you send sixty-five sheep to Boston? Today, we would load them into a truck and make the trip in a few hours. I can imagine that in 1774, the journey was a little more complicated.

Did someone herd the sheep along the roads all the way to Boston? Were some transported in wagons? How many people were needed? How long did the trip take? Who volunteered for the job?  Was my great-grandpa Jedidiah involved in that too?

I think AI did a great job depicting the scene!

Unfortunately, the town record doesn't tell us. That's often the case in family history. The records preserve one headline, but not always the details.

Still, those missing details are where imagination and historical context kick in. I can picture the committee discussing logistics. I can imagine volunteers gathering the sheep. I can see the long journey eastward toward Boston.

The entire story began with a single sentence in a book published a century after the event itself.

That is one of the reasons I love genealogy. Family history is rarely handed to us in a complete package wrapped with a bow. More often, it arrives in small pieces: a census record, a diary entry, a newspaper clipping, a town meeting note, or a single sentence in a forgotten local history.

Our job is to ask questions: What happened? Why did it happen?  Who was involved? What did daily life look like? How did larger historical events affect ordinary people?

Sometimes we discover a day in the life of our ancestor.

And sometimes we discover sixty-five fat sheep heading toward Boston.

Please also see my Instagram account: @today_in_family_history and look for June 21, 1774.

Results of my Yale Research Trip

If Post 1 was about the experience of visiting Yale’s libraries, this post is about what I learned once I sat down and started reading.

At Sterling Memorial Library, we spent our time with Morse family correspondence from January and February 1825, the weeks surrounding the death of Samuel Morse’s first wife, Lucretia.

Before this day at Yale, I had read some of the digitized Morse letters available on the Library of Congress website. But holding original letters written by Samuel F. B. Morse himself with his own quill pen and paper was just different. It is just as striking to read letters written by his father, Jedidiah Morse, who at that time was more famous than his son.

Reading a letter written by Samuel Morse.

But what stayed with me most was reading the letters in sequence and watching events unfold in real time.

Here is the timeline as it appeared in the correspondence:

📜 January 1825

Lucretia writes to Samuel in NYC, pleading with him to come home to Connecticut before leaving for Washington, D.C. She tells him their child hardly recognizes him because he has been away so often. Her wording seemed sincere, not sarcastic. Enough to make any parent feel guilty.  

He does return for a short visit before leaving again.

📜 Early February

Samuel is in Washington working on his portrait of the Marquis de Lafayette. Lucretia is in New Haven, recovering after the birth of their third child.

📜 February 7

A letter from Samuel’s father reports that Lucretia is resting and recovering. The tone is calm and nonchalant.  Tragically, she dies later that same day after the letter was already sent out.

📜 February 8

Jedidiah Morse writes a heartbreaking letter to his son with the news that Lucretia has died.

📜 February 9

Not knowing any of this, Samuel writes a letter to Lucretia, describing an exciting day in Washington. He writes about his work painting Lafayette, that he met the new president, John Quincy Adams.

He is writing to his wife after her death without knowing it.

Reading that sequence in order made the timing feel very real. The delay in communication, the distance, and how quickly everything changed.

There was more.

📜 Late February

I read letters between Samuel’s brothers, writing to each other about the loss. Their grief came through clearly, even for New Englanders.

I did not expect the letter from Lucretia’s father, mourning his daughter. That one was especially difficult. Such an unexpected loss of his treasured child.

These were not just names from history. They were a family trying to make sense of sudden loss.  They were writing letters that took days to arrive, not knowing what the other person already knew.

February 2026

Now, in 2026, with their correspondence preserved in neat manila folders and placed in front of me, I was able to follow the story as it unfolded, letter by letter. It felt like the Morse family preserved it and was waiting for me to find it 201 years later. 

As Samuel’s first cousin six times removed, that felt especially meaningful. That's more than I can ask from any research trip.

Family member name: Samuel F. B. Morse
Years of life: 1791-1872

Places lived: Charlestown, MA; New Haven, CT; Poughkeepsie, NY

Tree branch: Pearson
Relation: My 1st cousin 6x removed (my dad's dad's mom's mom's mom's mom's 1st cousin)

Sources:

Sterling Memorial Library - Yale University

A Day in Yale's Libraries (Part 1)

In early February 2026, my husband and I spent the day at Yale University, moving from library to library in pursuit of 200-year-old Morse family history.

Yale has twelve libraries. We visited four.

Sterling Memorial Library

We began at Sterling Memorial Library, the Gothic cathedral of books. The Manuscripts and Archives room opens at 9:00 a.m., and we were there when the doors unlocked.

Two archival boxes were waiting for us: Morse family correspondence. Inside each box were neat rows of legal size manilla folders filled with letters written in the early 1800s.

No glass case. No white gloves. I kept looking around... am I allowed to touch this?  Yes! They just let you handle 200-year old original letters with your hands.

The reading room itself is lovely.  The wooden tables and chairs felt like they were added to a side chapel of a Gothic church.

Bass Library

From Sterling, we made our way underground through Yale’s tunnel system to Bass Library. (Did I kind of feel like a student? Maybe!)

This was where we viewed an 1806 edition of Geography Made Easy by Jedidiah Morse — Samuel’s father, and at the time, the more famous Morse.

I had imagined a large textbook. Instead, it was small — almost the size of a modern pocket journal — with a delicate fold-out map at the front. Eek! Don't tear it!

When the book was published, Maine wasn’t a state yet. It was still referred to as the “District of Maine.”  The book was new when the nation was new.  The country itself was still being defined, and the textbook was trying to keep up.  The 1806 edition was one of several abridgements.

Beinecke Library

Among the typical Yale Ivy League campus buildings stands this prominent, yet out-of-place mid-century modern cube of a building. But go inside, and WOW.

The Beinecke is open to the public, thank goodness because it is amazing.  Inside stands five stories of shelving holding beautiful rare books and manuscripts. Those shelves are enclosed in a huge glass box.  The architect was a genius.  

The research material I requested from this library didn't pan out, but we were happy just to visit and admire.  They also have a Gutenberg Bible on display and original huge Audobon books with lovely illustrations of birds.

Yale Divinity Library

Our final library was the Yale Divinity Library.

Getting in required a few logistical hoops — the public doesn’t simply walk in — but once inside, the effort was worth it.

The Archives room was nothing fancy. Basically a storage room with white walls.  It was small, with only two long tables.  But the walls were stacked with file boxes and books, as if a major reorganization project was underway. There we viewed Jedidiah Morse’s work on Indian affairs, complete with another fold-out map, as well as additional correspondence between his New England clergy friends.

The main reading room is exactly what you imagine: wood paneling, green-shaded lamps, leather chairs, a creeky staircase to a second floor balcony overlooking the main area, and oil portraits watching from the walls.  Students filled those small upper balconies.

By the end of the day, we had handled letters, textbooks, sermons, and maps — all original.

Four libraries. Four different atmospheres. One very full day.

And that was just the setting. The real story was in the letters.  The results of my research!

(That’s Part 2.)

Preparing for my Yale research trip!

I'm going to Yale!  For the day!  To do research in their libraries.  Here is the behind-the-scenes account of my preparation.

Family member name: Morse family
Years of life:  1760s - 1880s

Places lived: New Haven, Connecticut

Tree branch: Titus
Relation: My 4x great-grandmother's cousins 

I think we have established that I love libraries.  Also I enjoy doing research.  Although most of the family history research I do is sitting at my little computer in the corner of my bedroom or on my iPad Mini lying down on the couch.  Both of those are great.  Also, I read a lot of history books that I check out from my awesome local library.  Shout out to real paper books!

But guess what? I'm going to go hold some original research material in my hot little hands.

Why Yale?

I have wanted to visit Yale for a long time.  I've heard that their art museum is fantastic.  But also I've wanted to walk around the town and campus because two or more of my relatives attended Yale University back in the day. 

* Jedidiah Morse, Jr. graduated from Yale in 1783.  He is my 5th great-granduncle.

* Samuel F. B. Morse (yes, of Morse code fame) graduated Yale in the Class of 1810.  He is my 1st cousin 6x removed.  Jedidiah's son.

For years, I've wanted to just stroll the grounds of their alma matter to walk in their footsteps.  

So why not combine the trip?  Stroll and research is a good combo.

The Legitimate Red Tape

I didn't really expect this part of the preparation to necessarily be easy, but I guess I expected something more straightforward. 

 

I’m hoping to consult five specific research items.  So here's what you have to do:

1. Create an account with Yale Libraries.  Check!

2. Search for your items.  Check!

3. Submit a request for the items to be available on your specified date.  Um, kind of check.

All of this is very reasonable since most manuscripts and archives just aren't out on shelves for the public to put their oily hands on.  They are in climate-controlled, acid-free storage units either behind locked doors or off-site.

I'm only hoping to consult five items.  All of my items were listed as available. The challenge hasn’t been access, but logistics. 

The Logistical Challenge

Yale has about 10 libraries.  So my logical question was, Can I read them all at the same library?

Answer: No.

* Two items will be at Sterling Memorial Library 

* One can be requested to Sterling even though it’s also associated with the Beinecke Library (request for Sterling in progress)

* One item is housed at the Divinity Library (which I hadn’t considered visiting). 

* The final item should also be available at Sterling — except the website keeps throwing an error when I try to submit

To keep all of this straight, I had to make a spreadsheet. But I’m not sad about that.

And More Challenges

But also, is it wrong to expect the website of one of the world's finest universities to actually work?  Since my day job involves software User Experience, I was quite disappointed.  My quality assurance tests did not pass.

Don't get me wrong, their website looks great. It just doesn't work for me.  I can't request that 5th item and now I can't even log in.  Didn't expect to spend my lunch hour on the phone with Eric, the Yale IT guy who tried to help but nothing worked.

All requests need to be submitted 48-hours ahead and we’re cutting it close. 

Will be such a shame if I can’t access one particular book just because of a computer glitch. Let’s hope a helpful librarian can come to the rescue.

Stay tuned!

Sources:

Yale Library

Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library

The Mystery of Stephen Hopkins’ Bible

When I started researching Stephen Hopkins, my Jamestown-bound, shipwreck-surviving 11th great-grandpa, I didn’t realize the twists and turns my research would take. 

Family member name: Stephen Hopkins
Years of life: 1581-1644
Places lived: England, Bermuda, etc.
Tree branch: Smith
Relation: My 11x great-grandfather 

I did not expect my brain to become consumed by one oddly specific question: 

Which Bible was he holding in his hands in 1609?

Why? Stephen Hopkins signed up for a seven-year indenture in the brand new colony of Jamestown. His assignment was to be the assistant, or clerk, to the Reverend Richard Buck. His duties would require him to help Buck with anything he needed. One day he may be sweeping the floor, the next he could be leading a worship service. He definitely needed a Bible for this assignment. 

I am a Bible reader. I’m interested in which Bible my 11th great-grandpa used.  I read a lot of information about 16th century Bibles.  Here are the results of my research.

Step 1: We can rule out one obvious option

If your first assumption was that he used the King James Bible, that would be a good guess. Except the King James Version didn’t exist yet. It wasn’t published until 1611, nearly two years after Hopkins left England. 

Step 2: So that left me with three options

* The Great Bible (1539)

The first “authorized” English Bible, large, formal, and used in churches—but less common for personal travel because it was… um, great in size.

* The Geneva Bible (1560)

The favorite of English households: more portable, more affordable, filled with helpful marginal notes, beloved by Puritans and everyday readers.

* The Bishops' Bible (1568)

The official Church of England Bible for public worship before 1611—what clergy were supposed to use during services.

Step 3: The Big Question—Was Stephen Hopkins an “Official” Church Appointee?

This is where I got stuck. 

Hopkins was hired as clerk/assistant to Reverend Richard Buck, which raised a surprisingly complicated question:

Would an indentured servant appointed to assist clergy have been issued an official Church of England Bible? Or would he have brought the Bible most people carried—the Geneva?

I read Virginia Company records, Anglican guidelines, and historians’ websites but still needed clarity.

Step 4: The Warwick Bible Museum (I actually live next door)

So I did the only reasonable thing. I walked over to the Bible Museum in Warwick, New York, and—probably sounding slightly crazy—asked the curator, who happens to be my friend:

“Hi, I need to figure out which Bible my ancestor personally used in 1609.”

He was not phased by my question. In fact, he seemed like it was the most normal question in the world.

After jumping the line and moving stanchions out of the way, he walked me through early English Bible history, standing in front of actual 1500s and 1600s editions of the Great Bible, Geneva Bible, and Bishops’ Bible. (Yes, I took pictures. And yes, there is a photo of me posing with the Bibles.)

His conclusion?  It could reasonably have been any of the three.

His instinct leaned Geneva—the most popular Bible among English families.

But if Hopkins’ role as Rev. Buck’s assistant was considered an official Church of England appointment, then he might have used the Bishops’ Bible, since that was the authorized text.

So… Which Bible Was It?

The real answer is: We can’t be 100% certain. But I'm going with Geneva. If a Bible History expert's gut is telling him Geneva, then that's my answer too.

And that, friends, is how one simple question turned into a multi-evening research spiral, and a visit to the museum, and an out-of-the-blue call to the curator. 

But now I can confidently say:

Whatever Bible Grandpa Hopkins used, it was one of these three—and I’ve stood inches from all of them.

Left to right: Me, Great Bible, Geneva Bible, Bishops' Bible

Sources:

Geneva Bible: Wikipedia

Four Early Bibles in Pilgrim Hall: Pilgrim Hall Museum

Historic Jamestowne.org

Warwick, NY Museum: The Bible and the Divine Name

Mother of the Village

My 9th great-grandmother, Elizabeth Newgate Oliver Jackson, was known in Newton, Massachusetts as the “mother of the village.” For fifty years, she was said to have been present at every birth in town. Imagine the generations she ushered into the world—a baby, then their child, then their child— all in the same family, no doubt including her own family.

When Elizabeth began her work around 1650, Newton was still a small settlement with fewer than ten births per year. But as the population grew, so did her duties. By the end of her career, she had likely delivered hundreds of babies, establishing herself as one of the most trusted figures in town.

Why did she do it?

Midwifery was one of the best-paying professions available to women in the 1600s, and many midwives relied on it for income. But Elizabeth didn’t need the money—she came from one of the wealthiest families in Newton. Her choice to serve as a midwife must have been driven by something deeper: a true calling to help others. 

Already respected because of her family’s standing, her role as a midwife only strengthened her influence in the community. If she lived today, she would almost certainly have been an obstetrician.

A Day in the Life of a 1600s Midwife

Picture Elizabeth awakened in the middle of a winter’s night by the urgent knock of a neighbor. She gathers her bag—cloths, herbs, perhaps a vial of oil—and sets off through the dark, snow crunching beneath her shoes. Arriving at a modest wooden home lit by a single candle, she joins the women already gathered: the expectant mother, her female family members, maybe a neighbor or two, all keeping warm by the huge fireplace. 

Elizabeth’s role is both practical and spiritual. She soothes the mother with prayers, offers sips of warm broth, rubs her back during contractions, and knows just when to encourage pushing. If complications arise, she draws on years of experience and remedies passed down from older women. Hours later, when the first cries of a newborn are heard, Elizabeth swaddles the baby and places it in its mother’s arms, the exhausted family rejoicing. Then she stays to check on the mother, advise on recovery, and plans to come back soon. 

This scene was repeated hundreds of times throughout Elizabeth’s life. To her neighbors, she was more than a midwife—she was a guide through the most important days of their lives and a sharer in their joys or sorrows. 

And for that, they remembered her with love as the “mother of the village.”

Family member name: Elizabeth Newgate Oliver Jackson
Years of life: 1617-1709

Places lived: England; Newton, Massachusetts

Tree branch: Pearson
Relation: My 9th great-grandmother (my dad's dad's mom's mom's mom's dad's mom's moms mom's dad's mom)

Sources:

NewtonMA.gov website LINK

The Jacksons and Their Homestead LINK

A Midwife's Tale - 1998 PBS Documentary LINK

A lesson in genealogical patience

Family history research is a journey.  Like a roadtrip, sometimes it's smooth, fun and scenic. But sometimes it's bumpy and you hit major roadblocks. Not every ancestor leaves behind a rich paper trail, and not every cousin responds with a treasure trove of memories. 

Case in point: my great-grandmother Martha Goesch Sullivan.

Family member name: Martha E. Goesch Sullivan
Years of life: 1900-1976
Places lived: Nebraska
Tree branch: Goesch
Relation: My great-grandmother (my mom's mom's mom) 

The elusive Martha Goesch Sullivan

I never met Martha, but I’ve spent a lot of time over the past few years trying to learn more about her. I’ve followed leads, sent messages, written letters, and made phone calls. Here are the 5 methods I've tried so far:

1. Ancestry Messaging Spree
   I sent a dozen messages through Ancestry.com's messaging app, reaching out to members of the Goesch family, asking if anyone remembered visiting or hearing stories about Martha. Only one cousin responded—and while he didn’t know anything himself, he gave me the name and email address of his aunt, who he thought might remember her.

2. Emails, a Letter, and... Crickets
   I sent two thoughtful, photo-filled emails to the aunt. When I didn’t hear back, I looked up her address and mailed a handwritten letter with family tree sketches and more photos. Still no reply!!  I followed up with the cousin again, who let me know his aunt didn’t remember Martha, which is why she hadn’t responded. I wonder what prevented her from just briefly replying to say "Sorry, no"? 

3. Another Cousin, Another Dead End
   A lovely cousin named Rob contacted me about a different shared Goesch ancestor, and I took the opportunity to ask about Martha. Unfortunately, he didn’t know anything about her either.

4. Cemetery Management Silence
   I reached out to the town cemetery where Martha was buried in Nebraska.  Sometimes there are records that include who paid for the burial. I didn’t get a response, but I reached out during the pandemic, so it’s possible there was limited staff at the time.

5. Hospital Records—But Not Yet
   I contacted the hospital where Martha lived for many years, hoping for medical records. At first they just said "no" with no further information. But after I peppered them with questions, they informed me the records will be made public 50 years after her death. Which is in 2026. Another year to go.  But at least there's hope of forward progress!!

This hasn’t been easy, but it’s part of the process. Sometimes you hit a wall (or five), and the only thing to do is keep chipping away. I still have a couple of cousins to contact and will try the historical society again. I know there's more to learn about Martha. I’m not done looking.