The Sport of Genealogy
The Humorous Side of Our Game
By Sherry Stevens, professional genealogist
Okay, I’ll admit it. I hate spectator sports. In fact, I haven’t a competitive bone in my body. My attitude is, “It’s only a ball, and if they want it that badly, then let them have it!” While my husband sits glued to his basketball games and shouts at the television, I slip quietly into the office and engage in my own favorite sport: genealogy.
Now before you assume I am some kind of a nerd, let me explain: My minor in college was actually Recreation. I really enjoy the outdoors. I like non-competitive sports such as hiking and kayaking, and I actually do have friends. But it just so happens that I am also genetically “wired” for research, just as Tiger Woods is wired for golf. I believe that research and fun can go together. Some say that genealogy is about as exciting as watching your toenails grow, but frankly, I’d rather decipher a Danish probate record than sit through one of those snore-fests they call a PGA golf tournament. To each his own.
First of all, genealogy is not a spectator sport. Yes, I get to sit in an armchair, but I am an active player. I get as mentally and emotionally involved as any professional baseball player. And I definitely chew as much gum as they do. I think they must have a lot of nervous energy. Did you ever notice how much gum those guys chew? I figure, since I sit at a computer all day, I need to keep at least one part of my body moving, even if it is only my jaws. When it comes to gum chewing, I am definitely in the Big League. Somebody should invent a Wii for genealogists, or maybe a treadmill-powered computer.
Last week I decided to switch from gum to sunflower seeds. It kept my hands busy removing all those little husks while searching online through old parish registers. After a whole week of research, I now officially recommend the unsalted type. When I ate a bag of the salted ones, my lips shriveled up like Homer Simpson’s father, plus I gained 5 lbs of water weight. And a lot of those little husks didn’t land neatly in the trash can like I had envisioned. I, too, need to improve my aim, like some ball players (not that I know their names). The floor around my trash can looks like the bottom of a birdcage.
Like a stadium spectator, I enjoy food while I enjoy my sport of genealogy. My desktop often holds popcorn, drinks, and my other favorite goodies. But unlike a stadium fan, I also get to indulge in last night’s cold pizza or make my super deluxe grilled portabello-and avocado-with-pesto sauce-on-ciabatta-bread sandwich. I only wish all this food came in disposable containers like at the game. It’s hard to find the printouts of my pedigrees underneath all the dirty dishes.
Genealogy has many similarities to sports besides the food. Take the sport of hunting, for instance. My husband enjoys watching the hunting programs on the Sports Channel. You see these guys all dressed in their camouflage, tramping through the wilderness, talking in whispers, peering through their field glasses until they spot the BIG ELK, and then landing him. But we genealogists do the same thing, minus the camo. We’re simply hunting for different game. And I display my pedigree charts and old photos as proudly on the wall as he does his elk heads: So there.
Genealogy really is an active sport, and we can prove it with our sports injuries. Take, for example, many of us who get carpal tunnel from all of our furious typing. And who can say that our backs hurt less than Shaquille O’Niel’s after a day at our respective sports? And we won’t even mention eye strain, bursitis from reeling endless microfilms, and sunburns and mosquito bites from roaming through old cemeteries. With West Nile virus, mosquito bites are now potentially deadly- so who says our sport isn’t dangerous? Why, I even drew serious amounts of blood once from a nasty paper cut on a family group sheet. Take that, hockey fans!
But I guess the biggest reason that genealogy is like sports is the thrill of scoring. Whether a genealogist or an athlete, we both know what it’s like to devote our lives to getting really good at our game. And whether it’s sending the ball sailing through the goal posts, powering through the finish line, or discovering that elusive great-grandfather, there is nothing quite as exhilarating as the success that comes after hard work. It makes me feel like leaping into the air and punching it with my fist, or high-fiving everyone who has the misfortune of being in the same room. Someone should dump a cooler of Gatorade over my head! The bands should play and the pom-pom’s should fly!
That’s one thing that professional athletes have that we don’t have: cheerleaders. Wouldn’t it be great if we could have a few to cheer us on when we’ve looked for months for that elusive ancestor? Yet, like many, I believe in an afterlife, and even though I can’t see them, I believe we do have unseen cheerleaders and unseen fans. They are our ancestors. I like to imagine them yelling, “HOLD THAT LINE, GIRL, HOLD THAT LINE”! Or how about, “PUSH ‘EM BACK, PUSH ‘EM BACK, WAAAYY BACK”! These cheerleaders help me stay in the game even when I haven’t scored in a long time.
So in genealogy, like sports, sometimes we win, sometimes we lose, and sometimes we just play for the sheer fun of it. And even though large crowds may not show up to watch, it’s still fun to play. I can almost hear the cheerleaders calling me now. I guess it’s time to get back to my favorite sport. Pass the sunflower seeds.
