I don’t remember being told my dad was adopted; it seems like I just always knew but it was never talked about. Now, when I think of the...

I was 16 when my dad first tried to introduce me to genealogy. I couldn't have been less interested. What did I care about some old farts...

This is a photograph of my son, Meacham, as he approaches the Dury Mill Cemetery, in Pas de Calais, France where his namesake, my...

Back in the 60s and 70s, when I was just a kid, our rural property was hooked up to a telephone party line. I don't know the science...