February 28, 2025
I always enjoyed the family stories that older members of the family told. As a genealogist, I’ve researched many of these family tales and learned that the tales are sometimes true but often aren’t. There are even a few that I can’t prove or disprove, despite decades of trying.
My maternal grandmother was the storyteller in my family. From my earliest childhood, I can recall her telling me stories of her ancestors. One of her favorite tales started with “Always remember, we have Maori blood.” Maoris are the indigenous Polynesian people who settled New Zealand long before the English colonized it.
Grandma seemed proud of her supposed Maori ancestors, so I was too. However, as I studied my family history, it became apparent that the odds were against our having any Maori blood. While my great grandmother was born in New Zealand, her parents had both immigrated from England a few years before her birth.
When DNA testing became routine, I took DNA tests at several companies. All of them showed me as being 100% northern European without even a smidgen of South Pacific Islander. I was disappointed but not surprised. Nothing in the document trail I’d uncovered hinted at even a drop of Maori blood.
Another of my grandmother’s stories dealt with her second great grandfather who she said was “high up in the Canadian government.” After the Maori letdown, I prepared for another bogus claim. Turns out this time Grandma was on the right track. My fourth great grandfather served in the first parliament of the Province of Ontario. Maybe not the highest echelons of government, but impressive.
The final story of my grandmother’s was about her grandfather who’d crossed the plains to Utah with Brigham Young. As any native of Utah knows, the pioneers first arrived in Utah on July 24, 1847. The 24th of July was the major summer holiday during my youth. I hoped to find an ancestor with a connection to that day.
One of my early genealogical projects was to verify my grandmother’s story about her grandfather. Determining when that distant grandfather arrived wasn’t simple. Early Utah records verify my grandfather’s arrival in Utah by 1850, but no records show the exact date.
The early pioneers were good record-keepers, and they kept lists of everyone for most wagon trains to Utah. They didn’t, however, keep track of the young men and teen-aged boys who served as extra wagon drivers and as herdsmen for the livestock that accompanied wagon trains. Since my ancestor was a teenager when he came to Utah, it’s likely he worked his way West.
My grandmother’s family lore turned out to be partly wrong, partly true and partly unprovable. Despite that, I enjoy the stories, and I’ll continue to tell them. I will, however, be sure to state that some of them have no basis in fact. They’re a link to my grandmother and her pride in her family.
Carol Stetser
Researcher
Larimer County Genealogical Society