Sunday, May 17, 2026

Best of the Genea-Blogs -- Week of 10 to 16 May 2026

 Scores of genealogy and family history bloggers write hundreds of posts every week about their research, their families, and their interests. I appreciate each one of them and their efforts.


My criteria for "Best of ..." are pretty simple - I pick posts that advance knowledge about genealogy and family history, address current genealogy issues, provide personal family history, are funny or are poignant. I don't list posts destined for most daily blog prompts or meme submissions (but I do include summaries of them), or my own posts.

Here are my picks for great reads from the genealogy blogs for this past week:

*  Recreating Memories with ChatGPT Images 2.0: A Mother’s Day Journey Back to the Santa Monica Mall by Diane Henriks on Know Who Wears the Genes In Your Family.

*  New Strategies When Using Full-text Search at FamilySearch by Lisa S. Gorrell on My Trails Into the Past.

*  An intricate project with many parts… by Teresa Basinska Eckford on Writing My Past.

*  Limitations of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in Genealogical Research by Anjelica Oswald on Vita Brevis.

*  Genealogy Tips: How to Do a Reverse Image Search by Gena Philibert-Ortega on GenealogyBank Blog.

*  Debunking Centuries of Publications by Tanner P. Sousley on Tanner P. Sousley.

AI Meets TOS by Judy G. Russell on The Legal Genealogist.

*  Using AI in family history with Denyse Allen by Emma Cox on Journeys Into Genealogy.

*  Citations That Don’t Kill the Story You Want to Tell by Denyse Allen on Chronicle Makers.

*  Tribute Reels from MyHeritage by Roberta Estes on DNAeXplained - Genetic Genealogy.

*  Building My Bridge to 2076: Episode 5 by Lori Olson White on The Lost and Found Story Box.

*  Radio Helped the Adoptee by Daniel Loftus on Dan's Think Tank.

*  Lineage Society Websites: Free Genealogy Research Resources You Can Use Without Joining by Elizabeth Swanay O'Neal on Heart of the Family.

*  Ancestry Terms of Service Changes 2026: What Every Genealogist and DNA Tester Needs to Know (Effective May 12, 2026) by Thomas MacEntee on Genealogy Bargains.

*  Using ChatGPT for Genealogy by Jody Lutter on Family History Research by Jody Lutter.

*  AI Is Not the Problem, It’s the Mirror by Lori Samuelson on GenealogyAtHeart.com.

*  Our Stories250 | Celebrating as a Community of Family Storytellers: July 2026 by Barbara Tien on Projectkin.

*  The Research Mistake Most Genealogists Make with Army Morning Reports by Jennifer Holik on Soul Traveler.

*  FamilySearch Full-Text Search for the Win! by Margaret M. McMahon on A Week Of Genealogy.

Here are pick posts by other geneabloggers this week: 

*  The Chiddicks Observer Edition 54 [11 May 2026] by Paul Chiddicks on Paul Chiddicks.

*  Friday’s Family History Finds [15 May 2026] by Linda Stufflebean on Empty Branches on the Family Tree.
*  GenStack [16 May 2026] by Robin Stewart on Genealogy Matters.

Readers are encouraged to go to the blogs listed above and read their articles, and add the blogs to your Favorites, Feedly, another RSS feed, or email if you like what you read. Please make a comment to them also - all bloggers appreciate feedback on what they write.

Did I miss a great genealogy blog post? Tell me! I currently am reading posts from over 900 genealogy bloggers using Feedly, but I still miss quite a few it seems.


Read past Best of the Genea-Blogs posts here.

             ==========================================================

Copyright (c) 2026, Randall J. Seaver


Please comment on this post on the website by clicking the URL above and then the "Comments" link at the bottom of each post. Share it on X, Facebook, or Pinterest using the icons below. Or contact me by email at randy.seaver@gmail.com.  Please note that all comments are moderated and may not appear immediately.

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Betty and Fred’s Story: Building a Life Together – Christmas Day 1943

 Here is the latest chapter in the story of the married life and times of my parents, Fred and Betty (Carringer) Seaver, who married in July 1942. The background information and the list of chapters of their life together are listed at the end of this post.  This is historical fiction with real people and real events, and is how it might have been.

And now we are up to Christmas Day in December 1943, two years into World War II, and life goes on.


                                     (AI NotebookLM Infographic - Christmas December 1943)

1)  Based on the biographies and the earlier stories, I asked Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.6 to tell another story - what happened next (I offered some suggestions!)?  Here is the next story (edited for more detail and accuracy): 


Betty and Fred's Story: Building a Life Together - Christmas Day 1943

Christmas Morning

Christmas morning on Twin Oaks Avenue began early, as mornings now invariably did. Randy, who had no concept of the holiday but an extremely consistent concept of when breakfast should occur, provided his usual announcement.

Fred got up with him so Betty could sleep an extra hour. He sat in the kitchen in the quiet dark before sunrise, Randy in the crook of his arm, the tree lights reflecting in the window, and thought about the year. Where they'd been in January — both of them working at Rohr, worried about the War, waiting for a future to come into focus. Where they were now -- their home, his work, the war, and a two month old baby.

He looked down at the small face, eyes open, considering the ceiling.

"Merry Christmas, Randy," he said.

Randy considered him briefly, then returned to the ceiling.

They opened gifts together after breakfast, Betty in her robe, Randy on the floor on his blanket observing the proceedings. Fred had wrapped everything carefully — perhaps too carefully, Betty thought, watching him fold edges with engineer precision — and Betty had tied everything with ribbon.

When Betty opened the burgundry dress, she was quiet for a moment.

She held it up and then looked at Fred and he could see her working to keep her expression simply appreciative rather than something more than that.

"Fred," she said.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it." She set it carefully aside and reached over and took his face in her hands and kissed him. "I love it."

The coat produced a similar effect. The handbag she held in her lap with the expression of a woman reuniting with a version of herself she'd temporarily misplaced.

"You talked to someone in the store," she said. "You didn't just wander in and grab something."

"A very helpful woman," Fred admitted.

Betty shook her head, smiling. "The perfume," she said, when she unwrapped it. "Oh, Fred. The perfume, too." She opened the poem book and read the inscription he'd written on the flyleaf — For Betty, who reads the real things — and when she found the letter at the bottom of her pile, sealed in its envelope, she set it carefully aside with the deliberate care of someone saving something important for a quiet moment.

Fred opened his suit — he ran his hand over the fabric with the expression of a man who hadn't expected to be moved by a suit — and then the tie, and the cufflinks. He examined the photograph in its frame for a long time without speaking.

"The back," Betty said.

He turned it over and read what she'd written. He set it on the side table and looked at it there for a moment and then looked at her.

"Betty," he said.

She understood that this was everything he meant to say.

Randy received his Christmas attention with the tolerance of an infant who is accustomed to being the center of things and has made a certain peace with it. The Noah's Ark figures from the Chamberlains went immediately into his fist and then immediately toward his mouth, which Fred intercepted. The knit cap from Marcia went back on his head, where it belonged. Fred had found, at a toy shop near the base, a small set of cloth blocks in primary colors — safe for mouthing, bright enough to engage his developing eyes — and a wooden rattle with a satisfying sound that Randy discovered with something approaching satisfaction.

Betty had found a mobile to hang above the crib: small wooden shapes painted in red and yellow and blue, balanced to turn gently in any draft of air. When Fred hung it that afternoon and Betty put Randy below it, he stared up at the turning shapes with the specific deep attention he reserved for things that struck him as genuinely interesting.

"He loves it," Betty said.

"He loves anything that moves," Fred said.

"He's your son," Betty said.

Christmas Afternoon

Fred wore his new suit and tie, and Betty wore her new burgundy dress with the green coat.  They drove to Fern Street in the early afternoon, worried about how they would find Betty’s grandparents, Della and Austin Carringer.

The house was quieter than it had been at Thanksgiving. Lyle opened the door, and behind him the house had the particular muted quality of a place where someone is ill — sound softened, movement careful, a consciousness of the situation.

Betty’s Nana, Georgianna Auble, and Emily were in the kitchen. They had started cooking in the morning, she told Betty, and the kitchen smelled of roasting chicken and potatoes and the spiced apple she'd simmered on the stove since noon. She held Randy for a few minutes and called himmy darling” and which she'd called Betty the same thing when Betty was small.

Edgar Carringer was in the front room with Austin, and when Fred and Betty came in, Uncle Edgar stood and took Betty's hands and said "Merry Christmas, dear" with a simplicity that covered more than it said. He was a quiet man, Edgar — quieter than Austin, cut from similar cloth but less worn by the years, perhaps because he'd had no child to bury, no particular catastrophe. He had always been kind to Betty in the sidelong way of bachelor uncles who are not sure exactly how to be kind but mean it.

Austin sat in his chair near the fire and he looked, Betty thought, smaller than he had at Thanksgiving. Not in body but in something harder to name — as though some light-keeping mechanism had been turned down. He smiled when he saw them, and the smile was genuine, but it cost him.

"How is she?" Betty asked, after they'd settled in. Della was in her own bed in her own house with a friend watching her.

"Resting," Austin said. "She had a decent night." A pause. "She'll want to see you."

It was over dinner that Fred and Lyle found themselves at the end of the table together, the conversation elsewhere for a moment, and Lyle said what was on both their minds.

"Have you heard anything?" Lyle said. "About the draft."

Fred was quiet for a moment. He looked at his plate and then back up. "Nothing definite. The job at Rohr supporting aircraft manufacturing keeps me deferred for now. But nothing is permanent. I know that."

Lyle nodded. He had known that too, but he'd wanted to hear Fred say it plainly, because he respected men who spoke plainly.

"If it happens," Lyle said, keeping his voice low, not carrying to where Betty sat with her mother, "Betty and Randy could come here."

Fred looked at him.

"I mean that," Lyle said. "This is her home. It always will be. There's room, and Emily and I —" he stopped. "We'd want them here. Not just want. We'd need them here." He glanced toward Emily, across the table. "Emily would need them. And Betty shouldn't be alone in that house with the boy. Not if you're gone."

Fred was quiet for a long moment. The fire shifted in the grate.

"I've thought about it," Fred said. "I've thought about it every week since Randy was born. What happens to them if —" He stopped. "I don't know how to —" He stopped again, because Fred Seaver was not a man who said I'm afraid easily, and he was finding that what he actually meant was close enough to that to require careful navigation.

"You don't have to know how to feel about it," Lyle said. "I'm just telling you an option, so that when you're wherever you are, you know the plan." He met Fred's eyes. "She'll be taken care of. Randy will be taken care of. That's not nothing."

Fred looked at this man — his father-in-law, his Betty's father, this solid and undemonstrative man who had just told him, in the plainest possible terms, what love looked like when it was organized for practical use.

"Thank you, Lyle," Fred said. It was not enough. He knew it was not enough. But it was what he had.

Lyle nodded once, and reached for the bread, and the moment was over and yet not over — it would stay with Fred through everything that came after.

Betty and her mother cleared the dinner things, and then Betty told her mother she was going to look in on Della in the house across the block.

Emily nodded. "She's been asking about you," she said quietly. "Don't stay too long. She tires easily."

Betty Visits Della

The bedroom was warm and dim, a lamp burning low on the bedside table, the curtains closed against the dark. Della lay against her pillows with the stillness of a woman who has learned to be still by necessity. But her eyes were open, and when Betty came through the door, they found her immediately and sharpened.

"Betty," she said. "Come here where I can see you properly."

Betty came and sat in the chair pulled close to the bedside — Emily's chair, she understood, or Georgianna's; the chair of whoever had been sitting with her today.

Della looked at her for a moment with those sharp old eyes that had not dimmed regardless of what else had.

"Where's the baby?" Della asked.

"Asleep, I think. Grandpa Lyle has him."

Della smiled at that. "Good. He looked like Lyle, a little. Around the eyes." She paused, collecting breath. "Lyle would have made a good cowboy."

Betty laughed softly. "Don't tell him that. He'll want a horse."

Della's smile lingered. "Sit with me."

They sat in the warm dim room for a moment in the quiet that belongs to sickrooms, which is a different kind of quiet than other quiets — more present, somehow, more weighted with the actual.

"I wanted to come earlier," Betty said. "I kept meaning to get over here more —"

"Stop," Della said, simply. "You have a new baby. You're right where you should be."

Betty looked at her hands. "I wanted to tell you something. I've been wanting to say it." She looked up. "You've been such a wonderful grandmother. To me — my whole life. You always —" she stopped. Started again. "When I was little and we'd come to visit, you made me feel like the most important person who'd ever walked in the door. Do you remember that?"

Della regarded her with the expression of a woman looking at a long unrolling of time.

"I remember everything," she said. "That's the one thing I still have. The memory." She was quiet for a moment. "I remember you at — oh, you must have been two years old. Maybe three. You used to come in the door and go immediately to the kitchen because you remembered where the cookies were. Didn't ask. Just went straight there." She paused. "Very efficient."

Betty laughed, and it caught slightly in her throat.

"And you were about seven," Della went on, "and you helped me string beans for an entire afternoon without complaining, and when we were done you looked at the pot and said, very seriously, 'I think they're ready, Grandma,' as though you had been supervising the whole operation. Which I suppose you felt you had been."

"I remember that," Betty said softly. "I remember the kitchen. The way it smelled."

"You grew up so straight and good," Della said, and her voice had something in it now that was not quite the everyday use of the voice. "And then you married that young man, and I watched you last month — I watched you at Thanksgiving with your baby — and I thought: well. She did it. She became —" Della stopped. Her hand moved slightly on the blanket. "She became exactly what she was meant to be."

Betty couldn't speak for a moment.

She reached out and took Della's hand — thin now, the bones of it close to the surface — and held it.

"I need you to remember something," Della said, after a moment. "Can you do that?"

"Yes," Betty said.

"Remember us," Della said. "Me and Austin. Not sad, you understand — not just this part. Remember us the whole way back. This house, and the early years, and Austin when he was young and foolish —" a brief smile — "which he was, before he got old and merely stubborn. Remember us from the beginning."

"I will," Betty said. "I promise."

"Tell Randy," Della said. "Someday when he's old enough. Tell him his great-grandmother Della held him and called him a fine boy. Tell him we were here."

"I'll tell him," Betty said. "I promise I'll tell him."

Della looked at her for another long moment, with those eyes that had seen 1862 and everything since.

"You're a good girl," she said. "You always were."

Betty sat with her until she slept.

She came out into the hallway and stood there for a moment alone before she went back to her parents house.

She put her hand flat against the wall for a moment.

We were here, Della had said.

I'll tell him, Betty had promised.

She straightened. She smoothed her dress.

As she came in through the kitchen, she could hear Austin's voice in the front room — talking to Fred, she thought, or perhaps to Lyle — the low rumble of it, the continued fact of it.

It was a sad ride home to Twin Oaks Avenue in Chula Vista. Randy slept in Betty's arms, while she sobbed thinking about her grandmother, and Fred drove, not knowing what to say. Betty recalled that she had forgotten to read Fred's Christmas letter.

To be continued...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2) Here is the Google NotebookLM Video Overview about Betty, Fred and Randy's life on Christmas Day 1943:  

3) This story is historical fiction based on real people -- my parents and me -- and a real event in a real place. I don't know the full story of these events -- but this is how it might have been. I hope that it was at least this good! Claude is such a good story writer! I added some details and corrected some errors in Claude's initial version.

Stay tuned for the next chapter in this family story.

====================================

The AI-assisted ABC Biography of my mother, Betty Virginia (Carringer) Seaver, is in ABC Biography of #3 Betty Virginia (Carringer) Seaver (1919-2002) of San Diego, California. I also  wrote Betty's Story: The First-Year Art Teacher about the start of her teaching career.

The AI-assisted ABC Biography of my father, Frederick Walton Seaver, is in ABC Biography of #2 Frederick Walton Seaver Jr. (1911-1983) of Massachusetts and San Diego, California.  I also wrote Fred's Story: The Three-Day Cross-Country Escape  and Fred's Story: "I Need A Girl" about him coming to San Diego, and wanting a girlfriend.

Here are the previous chapters in this story:

                           ==============================================

Links to my blog posts about using Artificial Intelligence are on my Randy's AI and Genealogy page. Links to AI information and articles about Artificial Intelligence in Genealogy by other genealogists are on my AI and Genealogy Compendium page.

Copyright (c) 2026, Randall J. Seaver


Please comment on this post on the website by clicking the URL above and then the "Comments" link at the bottom of each post.  Share it on Twitter, Facebook, or Pinterest using the icons below.  Or contact me by email at randy.seaver@gmail.com.  Please note that all comments are moderated, and may not appear immediately.

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Saturday, May 16, 2026

Saturday Night Genealogy Fun -- Where Were Your Ancestors 150 Years Ago?

 Calling all Genea-Musings Fans: 

 It's Saturday Night again - 

time for some more Genealogy Fun!!



Here is your assignment if you choose to play along (cue the Mission Impossible music, please!):


1)  Determine where your ancestral families were in May 1876 -- 150 years ago.

2)  List them, their family members, their birth years, and their residence location (as close as possible).  

3)  Share your information about your ancestors' locations in your own blog post, writing a comment on this blog post, or put it in a Substack post, Facebook Note, or some other social media system.  Please leave a comment on this post so others can find it.

Here's mine:

On my father's side:
  • My great-grandparents Frank Walton Seaver (1852-1922) and Hattie Louisa (Hildreth) Seaver (1857-1920), who married in 1874, resided in Leominster, Worcester, Massachusetts at 149 Lancaster Street, living with Hattie's family. My grandfather Frederick Walton Seaver (1876-1942) was born in late 1876.
  • My second great-grandparents, Isaac Seaver (1823-1901) and Lucretia Townsend (Smith) Seaver (1828-1884), who married in 1851, resided in Leominster, Worcester, Massachusetts at 7 Cedar Street. The household included their son Benjamin and daughters Nellie and Elizabeth.
  • My second great-grandparents, Edward Hildreth (1831-1899) and Sophia (Newton) Hildreth (1834-1923), who married in 1852, resided in Leominster, Worcester, Massachusetts at 149 Lancaster Street. The household included my great-grandparents and Hattie's brother Clarence Hildreth (1874-1878).
  • My third great-grandmother, Sophia (Buck) (Brigham) (Newton) Stone (1797-1882), probably resided in Leominster, Worcester, Massachusetts, perhaps with her daughter Sophia (Newton) Hildreth's family.
  • My great-grandparents Thomas Richmond (1848-1917) and Julia E. (White) Richmond (1848-1913), who married in 1868, probably resided in Killingly, Windham, Connecticut -- i don't know the address. The household included three of their first four children.
  • My second great-grandparents, James Richmond (1821-1912) and Hannah (Rich) Richmond (1824-1911), who married in 1845, resided in Putnam, Windham, Connecticut on what is now called Richmond Road. The household included some of their children.
  • My second great-grandparents, Henry Arnold White (1824-1885) and his second wife Almira (Taft) White (1842-1947), who married in 1866, resided in Killingly, Windham, Connecticut.
On my mother's side:
  • My second great-grandparents, David Jackson Carringer (1828-1902) and Rebecca (Spangler) Carringer (1832-1901), who married in 1851, resided in Boulder, Boulder, Colorado. The household included my great-grandfather, Henry Austin Carringer (1853-1946) and his brother Harvey Edgar Carringer (1852-1946).
  • My third great-grandfather, Henry Carringer (1800-1879) probably resided in Columbus City, Louisa, Iowa on his farm with some of his children.
  • My second great-grandparents, Devier James Lamphier Smith (1839-1894) and Abigail A. (Vaux) Smith (1844-1931), who married in 1861,  resided in Concordia, Cloud, Kansas. The household included my great-grandmother, Abbie Ardell Smith (1862-1944) and several other children.
  • My third great-grandparents, Samuel Vaux (1816-1880) and Mary Ann (Underhill) Vaux, wgo married in abo ut 1837, probably resided in Platte, Andew, Missouri. The household may have included some of their children.
  • My second great-grandparents, David Auble (1817-1894) and Sarah (Knapp) Auble (1818-after 1900), who married in 1844, resided in Terre Haute, Vigo, Indiana at 411 Chestnut Street. The household included my great-grandfather, Charles Auble (1849-1916) and several other children.
  • My third great-grandmother, Sarah (Cutter) Knapp (1785-1878) resided in New Barbadoes, Bergen, New Jersey with her son, Manning Knapp.
  • My second great-grandfather, James Abraham Kemp (1831-1902) resided in or near Delhi, Norfolk, Ontario. His first wife died in 1874 and he married again in late 1876. The household included my great-grandmother Georgianna Kemp (1868-1952) and several other children.
  • My third great-grandparents, Alexander Sovereen (1814-1907) and Eliza (Putman) Sovereen (1820-1895), wh married in 1840, resided in Windham, Norfolk, Ontario, probably with some of their children.
I think that's all of my ancestors alive in 1876 -- one grandparent, eight great-grandparents, fourteen second great-grandparents, and seven third great-grandparents. Note that they resided in Massachusetts, Connecticut, Colorado, Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, Indiana, New Jersey and Ontario.

I wonder how they celebrated the 100th Anniversary of American Independence.

                                =============================================


Copyright (c) 2026, Randall J. Seaver

Please comment on this post on the website by clicking the URL above and then the "Comments" link at the bottom of each post.  Share it on X, Facebook, or Pinterest using the icons below.  Or contact me by email at randy.seaver@gmail.comNote that all comments are moderated, and may not appear immediately.

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ABC Biography of Amos Plimpton and Mary Guild of Massachusetts (1735-1808)

 Using the ABC method described in Using Artificial Intelligence In the Ancestor Biography Creation (ABC) Process -- Updated, enhanced by further developments, here is another ancestor couple biography using the Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.6 AI tool.

1) The genealogical sketches for my 5th great-grandparents Amos and Mary (Guild) Plimpton of Massachusetts, including family members, record abstracts and sources, are in  52 Ancestors - Week 115: #138 Amos Plimpton (1735-1808) and 52 Ancestors - Week 116: #139 Mary (Guild) Plimpton (1735-1800). Amos Plimpton was a Revolutionary War soldier.


(AI NotebookLM Infographic - Amos and Mary (Guild) Plimpton Family Biography)

2) For the Claude AI biography, I attached a PDF of the genealogical sketch for the specific ancestors using the plus (+) icon, and then prompted the AI tool with:  "You are an expert genealogist and family historian. Please create a biography based on information in the attached file for the Amos and Mary (Guild) Plimpton family. Include parents, siblings, spouses and children (with birth and death dates and places). Summarize life events, add historical events as appropriate, but do not add or embellish any extra genealogical details. Use section headings. Expand the information in each section to add more details. The tone should be engaging and suitable for family members."

3)  The Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.6 biography (lightly edited for accuracy) is: 


The Family of Amos Plimpton & Mary Guild

of Medfield, Massachusetts, 1735 – 1808

This family biography traces the lives of Amos Plimpton (1735–1808) and his first wife, Mary Guild (1735–1800), colonial New Englanders whose lives unfolded against the dramatic backdrop of the American Revolution and the founding of a new nation. Rooted in the small town of Medfield, Massachusetts for generations, the Plimpton family story is one of land, loyalty, and legacy — a family that literally lived on the same ground their ancestors had cleared more than a century before.

Amos Plimpton: Early Life and Family Origins

Amos Plimpton was born on 16 June 1735 in Medfield, Suffolk County, Massachusetts Bay Colony — a prosperous farming community about twenty miles southwest of Boston. He was the second child and second son of John Plimpton (1708–1756) and Abigail Fisher (1711–1785), who had married in Medfield in 1731. The Plimpton family were well-established residents of Medfield, having held land there for multiple generations, and their homestead would remain a central feature of Amos's entire life.

The town of Medfield in the 1730s was a close-knit Puritan community, largely agricultural, where families like the Plimptons were known as yeomen — independent landowners who farmed their own land. Colonial New England life revolved around the rhythms of the seasons, the church, and the community, and a second son like Amos would have grown up working the family farm, learning the skills of husbandry that would serve him throughout his long life.

Parents

John Plimpton (1708–1756) and Abigail Fisher (1711–1785) raised their family on the ancestral Plimpton homestead in Medfield. John died in 1756, the same year Amos married, leaving Abigail a widow. She lived until 1785, and upon her death, Amos — as the surviving son on the property — took possession of the family estate, settling the inheritance by paying out shares to his siblings.

Siblings

Amos grew up alongside four brothers and sisters, a typical colonial New England family:
  • John Plimpton — Born before 27 January 1731/32 in Medfield. The eldest child, John predeceased his father, dying on 22 April 1754 at just twenty-two years of age, leaving Amos as the eldest surviving son.
  • Olive Plimpton — Born before 8 February 1737 in Medfield. She married Adam Peters on 5 May 1758 in Medfield and died young, on 12 September 1768, still in Medfield, at around thirty-one years of age.
  • Abner Plimpton — Born before 6 May 1742 in Medfield. Abner eventually moved north, dying in Vermont in 1814. He and his wife Esther appear in a land transaction with Amos in 1765, suggesting the siblings maintained close ties even after Abner relocated.
  • Unity Plimpton — Born before 6 January 1746 in Medfield. She married Benjamin Boyden on 22 December 1758 in Medfield and lived a long life, dying in 1828 in Medfield at approximately eighty-two years of age.
Mary Guild: Early Life and Family Origins

Mary Guild was born in 1735 in Walpole, Suffolk County, Massachusetts Bay Colony — the same year as her future husband Amos, though in a neighboring town about ten miles to the south of Medfield. She was the eldest daughter of Nathaniel Guild (1712–1796) and Mary Boyden (1708–1776), who had married in Dedham in 1733. The Guild family were also established New England colonists with deep roots in the region.

Walpole in the 1730s was a young town, having been set off from Dedham only in 1724, and the Guild family were among its early settlers. Mary would have grown up in this formative community, surrounded by the rhythms of colonial farm life much like Amos in Medfield. How and when she and Amos met is not recorded, but Walpole and Medfield shared social and religious connections — marriage across neighboring towns was common — and the two likely met through church or community gatherings.

Parents

Nathaniel Guild (1712–1796) lived to the remarkable age of about eighty-four, outliving his wife Mary Boyden (1708–1776) by twenty years. In his 1795 will, Nathaniel divided his estate equally among his surviving children, with Mary Plimpton (née Guild) receiving a one-seventh share of both his real and personal estate. After Nathaniel's death in 1796, the heirs came together in 1798 to sell the family lands in Walpole to Harman Guild, with both Amos and Mary signing the deed alongside Mary's siblings.

Siblings

Mary was the oldest of six children in the Guild family, and the records show that most of her siblings settled in communities across Norfolk and Bristol counties:
  • Nathaniel Guild (born 29 May 1739, Walpole) — Married Rebecca Hart on 21 September 1767 in Walpole. He died on 4 April 1793 in Stoughton, Norfolk, Massachusetts, predeceasing his father.
  • Mercy Guild (born about 1742, Walpole) — Married Ebenezer Hewins on 2 May 1761 in Walpole. She lived a long life, dying about 1820 in Walpole at approximately seventy-eight years of age.
  • Susanna Guild (born 3 August 1744, Walpole) — Married Ezra Morse on 13 April 1765 in Walpole. She died on 11 January 1822 in Roxbury, Massachusetts.
  • Samuel Guild (born 13 October 1746, Walpole) — Married twice: first to Elizabeth Ferguson in 1770, and after her death, to Katherine Leonard in 1786. He died on 11 May 1816 in Easton, Bristol County.
  • Mehitable Guild (born about 1752, Walpole) — Died on 12 February 1816 in Massachusetts. She appears to have remained unmarried, as she is listed as a 'spinster' in the 1798 deed settling her father's estate.
Marriage and Life Together

Amos Plimpton and Mary Guild were married on 9 December 1756, in Medfield, Massachusetts. The Medfield Vital Records book records the union simply as 'Amos Plimpton and Mary Guild, Dec. 9, 1756.' Amos was twenty-one and Mary twenty-one, both marrying at a typical age for colonial New England. The year of their marriage was also the year Amos's father John Plimpton died, suggesting Amos was stepping into adulthood and the responsibilities of head of household in rapid succession.

The couple made their home on the original Plimpton homestead in Medfield. This was no ordinary house — it was a place layered with family history. According to the town historian Mr. Tilden, the original Plimpton house had long since decayed and been replaced by a second structure, a two-story house with a single large room below and a front door at the westerly end, to which a lean-to had been added in the rear. This was the house into which Amos and Mary moved as newlyweds, and where they would raise their children and live out most of their lives.

Together, Amos and Mary would share forty-four years of marriage until Mary's death in 1800. Their partnership weathered the deaths of three young children, the upheaval of revolution, and the gradual passing of their parents' generation, as Amos and Mary grew into the matriarchs and patriarchs of the Medfield community they had always called home.

Children of Amos Plimpton and Mary Guild

Amos and Mary had five children, though sadly three died in infancy or early childhood — a common and heartbreaking reality of colonial life:
  • Molly Plimpton (born 8 May 1758, Medfield) — The eldest child and only daughter to live to adulthood. Molly married twice: first to Joseph Cole on 29 June 1780 in Medfield, and after his death, to Amos Kingsbury on 14 April 1785. The Kingsburys settled on the original Plimpton homestead alongside her father, a fact that would shape the later chapters of the family story. Molly died on 27 January 1813 in Medfield, Norfolk County, Massachusetts.
  • Elizabeth Plimpton (born 14 June 1761, Medfield) — Died on 2 May 1766, just a few weeks short of her fifth birthday.
  • John Plimpton (born 22 September 1763, Medfield) — Named for his grandfather, young John lived only two years, dying on 9 October 1765.
  • Amos Plimpton (born 25 March 1770, Medfield) — Named for his father, this child lived only two months, dying on 26 May 1770. The loss of three children within a few years must have been an especially sorrowful season for the family.
  • Mercy Plimpton (born 9 September 1772, Medfield) — The youngest child. Mercy married Aaron Smith on 6 October 1795 in Medfield and lived a long life, dying on 13 April 1850 in Medfield, Norfolk County, Massachusetts, at the age of seventy-seven.
Land, Property, and Livelihood

Like most New England yeomen of his era, Amos Plimpton's wealth and status were tied closely to land. The historical record preserves several significant property transactions that illuminate his economic life and place in the community.

In March 1765, Amos purchased a one-fifth share of a 45-acre tract of woodland lying in the northern part of Wrentham from his brother Abner and Abner's wife Esther, paying twelve pounds. The woodland was bounded on the north by the Charles River — valuable timberland in colonial New England. Just months later, in September 1765, Amos sold the same parcel to David Wight, a yeoman of Medway, for twelve pounds and six shillings, netting a small profit. This kind of property trading was a common way for colonial farmers to manage assets and generate income.

The most significant property event of Amos's life came in 1785, when his mother Abigail Fisher Plimpton died. As the surviving son on the homestead, Amos inherited the ancestral estate, paying out shares to his siblings Abner Plimpton, Unity Boyden, and the heirs of Olive Peters. The old Plimpton homestead — with its layered history of original structures, rebuildings, and additions — was now entirely his. The genealogist Levi B. Chase noted that Amos 'was the last of the name residing on the original homestead,' a distinction that speaks to both his attachment to the land and his family pride.

In 1798, Amos and Mary joined her siblings in selling the Guild family lands in Walpole, following the death of her father Nathaniel Guild in 1796. The deed, a remarkable document listing all the Guild heirs, records Amos as 'Yeoman' and Mary as his wife, and together they received their portion of the $1,671.43 paid by Harman Guild for the family property.

Amos Plimpton and the American Revolution

Among the most remarkable chapters of Amos Plimpton's life is his service in the American Revolution. He was thirty-nine years old when the war began, hardly a young man, yet he answered the call to arms with unmistakable commitment.

His military career began on 19 April 1775 — the very day of the Battles of Lexington and Concord, the opening shots of the Revolutionary War. Amos marched out with Captain Ephraim Chenery's Medfield company, part of Colonel John Smith's regiment, responding to the alarm that the British Regulars were on the move. He served eleven days in this initial mobilization. It is a striking thought: on the day that 'the shot heard round the world' was fired at Concord, Amos Plimpton was among the Massachusetts militiamen who dropped their tools and marched toward the sound of the guns.

His service continued into 1776. He was commissioned as Second Lieutenant in Captain Aaron Guild's company — notably, a Guild, perhaps a relative of his wife Mary — under Colonel Lemuel Robinson's regiment. He enlisted on 29 January 1776, and the regiment served at Dorchester Heights in late March 1776. The fortification of Dorchester Heights was a pivotal moment in the war: General George Washington directed the placement of cannons captured at Fort Ticonderoga, overlooking Boston Harbor, which compelled the British to evacuate Boston on 17 March 1776 without a battle. Amos was present for this decisive strategic victory.

He also served as a Lieutenant in Captain Sabin Mann's Medfield militia company, and by September 1777, his name appears on a list of men who paid money in lieu of service for the Continental Army quota — Amos paid £15. By this point he was forty-two years old, a property-owning farmer with family responsibilities, and the payment reflects a common and accepted practice for established householders who could not leave their farms for extended service.

Amos's gravestone at Vine Lake Cemetery in Medfield identifies him as 'Lieut. Amos Plimpton,' a permanent acknowledgment of his military rank and service. His record in Massachusetts Soldiers and Sailors of the Revolutionary War stands as testimony to a man who served his town, his colony, and his new nation across multiple campaigns and years.

Later Years

The 1790 and 1800 Censuses

The federal censuses of 1790 and 1800 offer brief but vivid snapshots of the Plimpton household. In 1790, Amos appears in Medfield with one male over sixteen (himself) and one female (Mary), suggesting their daughters had left home or the household was otherwise small at that time. By 1800, the census records one male over forty-five (Amos, now sixty-five) and one female aged twenty-six to forty-five (perhaps his daughter Molly). It is a quiet portrait of a couple growing old together.

Mary (Guild) Plimpton's Death

Mary (Guild) Plimpton, Amos's wife of forty-four years, died on 20 March 1800 in Medfield. She was sixty-four years old. The loss of a life partner of such long standing must have been profound for Amos, then sixty-four himself. The household they had built together — the farm, the children, the community ties — now continued without her.

Second Marriage

Later in 1800, Amos married for a second time. His new wife was Mary (Pratt) Breck (1750–1843), widow of Elijah Breck of Sherborn. The Medfield Vital Records note the intention of marriage on 6 November 1800, just seven months after Mary Guild's death. Mary (Pratt) Breck was fifty years old at the time of the marriage, fifteen years younger than Amos. She would outlive him by thirty-five years, dying on 11 December 1843 at the extraordinary age of ninety-three in Medway, Massachusetts, and was buried at Prospect Hill Cemetery in Millis.

The town historian Mr. Tilden records a charming domestic detail about this second marriage: when Amos remarried in 1800, his son-in-law Amos Kingsbury was still living in the house, and 'the house being found too small, a new part was added to the west end, of about the same shape and size as the old part.' Even in his mid-sixties, Amos was expanding and improving the ancient family home.

Amos Plimpton's Will and Final Years

On 13 January 1807, Amos Plimpton wrote his last will and testament — a careful, detailed document that reveals the shape of his world in his final years. He was seventy-one years old, described as 'Gentleman' in the probate records, a step up in social designation from the 'Yeoman' of his earlier years.

The will opens with careful provision for his widow, Mary (Pratt) Plimpton: she was to have use of the front room, bedroom, back room, and back chamber of the dwelling house, together with half the cellar, the well, yard room, and half the wood house. Beyond shelter, Amos specified an annual allotment for her support in rich and specific detail: eight cords of firewood, five bushels of Indian corn, five bushels of rye, one bushel of malt, one barrel of cider, sixty pounds of pork, fifty pounds of beef, sixty pounds of cheese, thirty pounds of butter, ten pounds of flax, and five pounds of sheep's wool. This extraordinary list paints a vivid picture of colonial New England farm life — a largely self-sufficient household economy where everything from food to fiber was produced at home.

The bulk of the estate — all real property including buildings and lands — went to his grandson John Kingsbury, son of his daughter Molly and her husband Amos Kingsbury. The exception was a woodlot at 'Smith's Plane,' which Amos gave to his younger daughter Mercy Smith (wife of Aaron Smith), along with six hundred dollars to be paid in annual installments of one hundred dollars over six years. Amos's wearing apparel went to his son-in-law Aaron Smith; his farming tools to grandson John Kingsbury. The remaining personal estate was divided equally among his two sons-in-law (Amos Kingsbury and Aaron Smith) and grandson John Kingsbury.

The will was witnessed by John Baxter, Thaddeus Moore, and Alpheus Fisher. It was proved in the Norfolk County Probate Court on 6 September 1808, with John Kingsbury named as executor.

Death and Burial

Amos Plimpton died on 20 August 1808 in Medfield, Massachusetts, at the age of seventy-three. He was buried at Vine Lake Cemetery in Medfield, where his gravestone still stands. The inscription carved there reads:

In Memory of
Mr. Amos Plimpton.
Died August 20th 1808
Aged 73
How peaceful are our slumbers here,
No cares disturb our rest,
In vain shall death alarm our fear,
Since Christ the grave hath blest.

These epitaph verses, common in New England Congregationalist tradition, speak to a faith that was a bedrock of Amos's community throughout his life. He was a man who had seen war, buried three children, outlived his first wife of four decades, and carried the family homestead through seventy-three years of colonial and early American history.

The Plimpton Homestead: A Living Legacy

Perhaps no detail in Amos Plimpton's story is more evocative than the fate of the old family homestead. The Plimpton house in Medfield was, by the time historian William Tilden wrote about it in 1887, already a memory. The second house — the two-story structure that Amos and Mary had called home — stood until about 1875, when it was torn down and a new house built by William Kingsbury (grandson John's son) on the same cellar. In Tilden's words, Amos had been 'the last of the name residing on the original homestead.'

Through his daughter Molly and her son John Kingsbury, the land passed out of the Plimpton name but remained in the family bloodline. The brook, the field, the street lot — all the pieces of the estate Amos had tended — were gradually sold for house-lots as Medfield grew into the nineteenth century. The homestead that John Plimpton had established generations before, that Amos had inherited and improved and loved, was absorbed at last into the expanding town around it.

But the story did not end there. Amos's daughter Mercy and her husband Aaron Smith carried the family forward into the 1850s. His grandson John Kingsbury, named in the will as executor and heir, was the keeper of the flame for the next generation. And the name Plimpton, though no longer attached to that Medfield address, lived on in the records of a town shaped by the quiet, enduring work of families like Amos and Mary's.

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4) An Audio Overview (essentially a podcast) created by the Google NotebookLM AI tool) describing and celebrating the lives of the Amos and Mary (Guild) Plimpton family can be heard here (click on "Play" for the "Audio Overview").

5)  The Video Overview discussing the Amos and Mary (Guild) Plimpton family created by the Google NotebookLM AI tool is:  


6)  The Slide Deck produced by Google NotebookLM was incorporated into a Google Slides file, and the created Google Vids presentation is below:  


7)  I edited the Claude biography text to correct minor inconsistencies and errors. Every large language model (LLM) AI tool writes descriptive text much better than I can write. I was an aerospace engineer in my former life, and my research reports and genealogical sketches reflect "just the facts gleaned from my research." The AI tools are very perceptive, insightful and create readable text in seconds, including local and national historical events and social history detail when requested.

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Links to my blog posts about using Artificial Intelligence are on my Randy's AI and Genealogy page. Links to AI information and articles about Artificial Intelligence in Genealogy by other genealogists are on my AI and Genealogy Compendium page.


Copyright (c) 2026, Randall J. Seaver

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