by Pa Rock
Gravedigger
A week from today I will begin several days of intensive family research at the famed Mormon Library in Salt Lake City, one of the largest repositories of family tree records in the world. I drove by that famed institution thirty years ago, but next week will be the first time that I ever have access to the building and get to roam its hallowed shelves and stacks.
In preparation for the trip I am trying to clarify several research goals so that I will not just be aimlessly stumbling around doing hit-and-miss research. Unfortunately, as I try in earnest to draft a few research objectives, I keep getting drawn into extraneous minutia, matters that while not critical, still serve as distractions from what I need to be doing in order to be prepared for the trip.
Yesterday, while trying to get some facts in order on my great-grandfather, who was raised by his grandfather, I noticed that the elder relative (my g-g-g-grandfather) had several birth and death dates, depending on the sources of information - and all relatively close to each other. The only set-in-stone constant was an inscription on his tombstone that said the old fellow died at the age of 74 years, 10 months, and 7 days. He had two dates of death listed in separate records (eight days apart), and I spent several hours trying to track those back to dates of birth based on the tombstone inscription.
Although I didn't pursue a course of mathematics in college, that is the area on which I scored highest on my college entrance exams. During my checkered career life I was also licensed for a few years as a real estate broker, a feat that required a certain impressive level of math skills. At one time I had a variety of real estate computational abilities, including things like figuring amortization schedules by hand. But over time, all of those shining skills have faded.
After much scribbling, head-scratching, and consternation I finally came to the sad conclusion that I was not as smart as I once had been. At that point I decided that I had wasted enough of my valuable time, and decided to waste some of my son's time instead. The email I sent to Tim was titled "Smarter than Me," and it included the death date that I thought was the most likely - and asked him if he - or perhaps someone he knew - could count backwards and figure out when the old coot was born.
I knew that arriving at the answer might take weeks.
Tim replied back with a likely birth date for his g-g-g-g-grandfather - in about 15 minutes! He said that he had asked Alexa and she solved the puzzle. Tim noted that Alexa has an amazing amount of computational skills - if one is careful in how he phrases the question.
So I know a couple of new things: the birth date of my ancestor, and that Tim and Alexa are both smarter than me.
Now, if I could just get Alexa to quit snickering!
Gravedigger
A week from today I will begin several days of intensive family research at the famed Mormon Library in Salt Lake City, one of the largest repositories of family tree records in the world. I drove by that famed institution thirty years ago, but next week will be the first time that I ever have access to the building and get to roam its hallowed shelves and stacks.
In preparation for the trip I am trying to clarify several research goals so that I will not just be aimlessly stumbling around doing hit-and-miss research. Unfortunately, as I try in earnest to draft a few research objectives, I keep getting drawn into extraneous minutia, matters that while not critical, still serve as distractions from what I need to be doing in order to be prepared for the trip.
Yesterday, while trying to get some facts in order on my great-grandfather, who was raised by his grandfather, I noticed that the elder relative (my g-g-g-grandfather) had several birth and death dates, depending on the sources of information - and all relatively close to each other. The only set-in-stone constant was an inscription on his tombstone that said the old fellow died at the age of 74 years, 10 months, and 7 days. He had two dates of death listed in separate records (eight days apart), and I spent several hours trying to track those back to dates of birth based on the tombstone inscription.
Although I didn't pursue a course of mathematics in college, that is the area on which I scored highest on my college entrance exams. During my checkered career life I was also licensed for a few years as a real estate broker, a feat that required a certain impressive level of math skills. At one time I had a variety of real estate computational abilities, including things like figuring amortization schedules by hand. But over time, all of those shining skills have faded.
After much scribbling, head-scratching, and consternation I finally came to the sad conclusion that I was not as smart as I once had been. At that point I decided that I had wasted enough of my valuable time, and decided to waste some of my son's time instead. The email I sent to Tim was titled "Smarter than Me," and it included the death date that I thought was the most likely - and asked him if he - or perhaps someone he knew - could count backwards and figure out when the old coot was born.
I knew that arriving at the answer might take weeks.
Tim replied back with a likely birth date for his g-g-g-g-grandfather - in about 15 minutes! He said that he had asked Alexa and she solved the puzzle. Tim noted that Alexa has an amazing amount of computational skills - if one is careful in how he phrases the question.
So I know a couple of new things: the birth date of my ancestor, and that Tim and Alexa are both smarter than me.
Now, if I could just get Alexa to quit snickering!
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