"Mine's Bigger Than Yours" ... and What Follows!

A week or two ago, I made a comment on social media of which, I confess, I'm not immensely proud.  Someone had posted that they had found an ancestor who had had a family of 11 or 12 children, although not all had survived infancy.  I replied, "The best I've seen is a family of 18, born between 1868 and 1892, and all alive in 1911."  This rejoinder was not relevant to the matter in hand, and was offered in the spirit best expressed in my title today.  Furthermore, it was, of course, no credit to me anyway, but rather to the parental skills and good fortune of a woman who died some 88 years ago.

This week has been exceptionally busy.  For a start, there were two items of 'aftermath' following the furniture exchange that formed the basis for my post here last week.  Firstly, I found in the bottom of the new cabinet an album of photographs, that I wanted to return to the former owner, some 14 miles away.  And there was also the disposal of the remains of the old cabinet.  Furthermore, came a new project from WEBBS for me to start work on.  This is the new (as of last March) occupation that has taken the place of my former work in the charity warehouse before my relocation in the summer.  Those who are curious can find more information here.

In addition, I welcomed the invitation to visit my cousin, who has been unwell.  Perhaps it was no surprise, given my interest in family history, for the conversation to involve the comment, "What's so special about this 1921 Census that's in all the news bulletins?"  Of course, I was pleased to begin airing my knowledge (albeit that, as I readily admit, I don't know all the answers).  I mentioned that I had read of people finding a full set of four grandparents and eight great-grandparents, and began to think around my corresponding ancestors, totting up how many would have been alive in 1921.  My cousin's husband inevitably began thinking on the same lines.

This is where the circle closes.  It just happens that his grandmother was the twelfth of those eighteen children mentioned above.  It's potentially useful on these occasions to let someone else take centre stage and, as he ruminated about his family, he recalled that one of his great uncles was killed in the First World War, and therefore wouldn't be found in this new genealogical treasure chest, the 1921 Census.  Unfortunately, he couldn't remember which great uncle this would have been.

Not one to let such a challenge pass by, and having a useful app on my phone, I immediately opened this up, thinking that by simply comparing death dates, the solution to his memory loss could be overcome.  To my shame, I have death dates for only four of those eighteen children, and only two of the eight sons (who both died well into the twentieth century), so I was unable to shed any light.

At least I know now the next area upon which to focus my current 'family history polishing' campaign!