Delving into Family History History: More Than Just Names and Dates

Genealogical consciousness is more profound than a hobby pursued by a distant relative; it represents a fundamental way of understanding our existence. It is a lens through which we perceive our role and responsibilities within the continuum of generations that surround us – those who came before and those who will follow. This exploration into Family History History reveals not just names and dates, but a tapestry of human connection across time.

Today, I will share two narratives. The first is brief and whimsical, involving deceased felines, while the second is a more extensive account concerning individuals from the past.

A Tale of Departed Cats

Let’s begin with the anecdote of dead cats. I understand that stories commencing with deceased cats might seem commonplace, but I encourage your patience.

My parents held diametrically opposed views on domestic animals, particularly cats. My mother’s upbringing involved a household where animals were strictly forbidden indoors. Conversely, my father grew up in a home that welcomed pets, even a monkey at one point, into their living space. Over their extensive marriage spanning over sixty years, they negotiated a form of compromise regarding pets in our home. Smaller, cage-confined creatures such as hamsters, snakes, frogs, toads, and fish were permitted inside, but larger animals like cats, dogs, and any animal destined for the dinner table remained in the garage, doghouse, or chicken coop. Dogs were restricted, but cats enjoyed a degree of freedom – as long as I refrained from dressing them in doll clothes, a prospect they generally met with a blend of apprehension and resignation.

During my early childhood, our residence was situated at a bustling intersection with constant vehicular traffic. This location, combined with our household pet policy, meant that cats—an apparently endless stream of them drawn to our house—seldom reached old age. I developed an affection for these felines and grieved their passing. I began to memorize the names and appearances of each cat that had lived, loved, and ultimately met their end at our home. Eventually, the sheer volume of memories and names became overwhelming. Concerned, I inquired of my mother whether these departed cats would greet us in heaven, and if they would recognize us, and we them. She reassured me that they would—that the cats would remember me, and I them, eternally.

Amy Harris

The essence of this story lies not in the cats themselves, but in my mother’s comforting assurance of enduring relationships. Much like photographs preserve moments beyond their fleeting existence, relationships possess a lasting quality, extending even beyond mortality. This concept of enduring connections was fundamental to my childhood. As the youngest of nine children, I was born after the passing of three of my four grandparents, several cousins, and a brother. The knowledge that death would not perpetually prevent me from knowing these individuals provided profound comfort and stability.

This early understanding of enduring relationships has significantly influenced my professional path. I have dedicated my adult life to studying relationships, particularly within families, and their profound influence—for better or worse—on shaping social, economic, religious, political, material, and emotional landscapes. My research predominantly focuses on eighteenth-century England. In essence, I study deceased individuals and the lessons they impart. As Thomas W. Laqueur eloquently stated:

The history . . . of the dead is a history of how they dwell in us—individually and communally. It is a history of how we imagine them to be, how they give meaning to our lives. . . . It is a history . . . of how we invest the dead . . . with meaning.

My scholarly inquiries have illuminated the profound meaning inherent in social and familial bonds, both historically and in contemporary society. They have also revealed the often-underestimated potential of these relationships to positively impact society and offer solutions to complex challenges. This exploration of family history history underscores the enduring relevance of these connections.

Stories from the Departed

Allow me to introduce you to some of these individuals from the past. I will begin with the narrative of a particular person: William Dade. Born in Yorkshire, northern England, in late 1740 or early 1741, William was the fourth child of parents who had married in their early thirties. His father, a local vicar with several parishes providing his income, ensured that William and his siblings—a sister and two brothers—were raised in the relative comfort typical of the genteel “middling sort” of English society.

William received his education at Yorkshire schools, necessitating extended periods away from home. Upon reaching their late teens, both William and his elder brother, Thomas, followed their father’s vocational path, attending the University of Cambridge and subsequently entering the clergy. The family experienced significant loss when their mother passed away when William was twelve, followed by their father’s death when William was eighteen, around the time he commenced his studies at Cambridge. Two years later, their brother John died at the age of twenty-two and was interred alongside their parents in the parish church where their father had served as vicar. A memorial, likely commissioned by William and his surviving siblings, stands in the church to this day, commemorating their collective memory within the rich tapestry of family history history.

At the time of his father’s passing, Thomas, aged twenty-four and unmarried, had already been ordained. His twenty-three-year-old sister, Mary, also unmarried, likely resided with him, or perhaps with William, who left Cambridge that same year. Within two years, William secured his own parish in the city of York at the young age of twenty-two.

This narrative, so far, presents a rather ordinary account of an eighteenth-century English family. Their parents marrying in their early thirties was not unusual for individuals who came of age in the early 1700s. Average marriage ages during this period were twenty-six for women and twenty-eight for men. It was not uncommon for children to predecease their parents, although infant and childhood mortality were more prevalent than death in young adulthood, as in the case of William’s brother. In some regions, a third or more of children did not survive to their tenth birthday.

Children across most social classes, regardless of wealth, typically left home in their mid-teens for employment or education, as the Dade brothers did. This included most young women, excluding those from the gentry or aristocracy. The fact that the Dade siblings were unmarried in their mid-twenties was also not unusual for their generation, which coincided with a significant proportion of individuals who never married – approximately 15 to 20 percent in the mid-eighteenth century. (By comparison, current UK statistics suggest that only 4 to 9 percent of the population remains unmarried or unpartnered.)

The brothers pursuing their father’s occupation in the church was also unremarkable. Between a quarter and a third of eighteenth-century English clergymen were sons of clergy, reflecting the prevalent socioeconomic distinctions and inequalities of the era.

Sibling relationships were typically important, as they were in the Dade family. Their parents’ later marriages and relatively early deaths meant that for the Dade siblings, and many others during this period, siblinghood was the most central and enduring family bond. Siblings provided significant material, social, and emotional support. These relationships, with their varying degrees of closeness, may resonate with contemporary experiences. They possessed a profound solidarity and influence unparalleled by many other relationships, forming a crucial thread in the fabric of family history history.

Sibling relationships continue to wield considerable power and influence today. A quick online search for sibling photos reveals numerous images of adult siblings dressed in matching outfits—a practice rarely seen outside of athletic teams. If any other adult suggested matching outfits and haircuts for a photo, the depicted happiness might not be the typical outcome.

Like today, eighteenth-century siblings maintained lifelong connections. However, unlike today, they often stood at the center of family life. Siblings preceded spouses and children—who often arrived later in life, if at all—and outlived parents who frequently died before all their children reached thirty.

These relationships were not without conflict. Siblings quarreled and struggled with each other. Navigating these relationships, which were unchosen yet laden with lifelong expectations, was not always easy, as some of you may experience with your own siblings. As one eighteenth-century man wrote to his brother:

Three wise words from your lips made me think you an inhabitant of another country. . . . You have the art to set me at a distance by three words when I am with you, and to draw me to you at a hundred miles off by the same method.

Returning to William Dade, his story up to his late twenties was ordinary, mirroring thousands of others. However, in 1770, as he entered his thirties, William made a remarkable decision. He resolved to enhance the detail in Church of England parish registers, which typically contained minimal information. He aimed to improve “the imperfect method hitherto generally pursued.” This seemingly minor adjustment was, in fact, a profound development with untapped potential to positively impact the world, contributing significantly to the unfolding narrative of family history history.

Dade’s Parish Records: A Revolution in Family History History

To fully appreciate William Dade’s parish registers, some historical context is necessary. English church registers originated after Henry VIII’s separation from Rome and the establishment of the Church of England in the 1530s. From that time until the eighteenth century, entries for baptisms, marriages, and burials typically contained scant information. Baptism records might only include the child’s name, baptism date, and father’s name. Compared to continental registers, English records were notably lacking in detail. For instance, a Spanish record from 1764 not only listed the child’s and father’s names but also the mother’s (including her maiden name), both sets of grandparents, and the godparents’ names. Even in the early eighteenth century, English registers showed only marginal improvement, with the increasing inclusion of mothers’ first names and occasional additions like birthdates or fathers’ occupations.

William Dade himself benefited from an unusually detailed christening entry. Because his father was a vicar, the officiating priest included William’s father’s occupation and residence, though his mother remained unnamed.

Initially, Dade followed common practice when he became a curate, recording limited information in parish records. However, in 1770, he began adding more details, such as the father’s occupation, residence, and family connections. He encouraged other vicars and rectors to adopt this practice. While some complied, the initiative gained significant traction in 1777 when the Archbishop of York endorsed it across the diocese. Some vicars adhered to the directive, many did not, and others resented it, abandoning the practice after a short period. William’s brother, Thomas, may have belonged to the latter group, as his parish registers show no such efforts to record additional information, highlighting the varied adoption of enhanced family history history records.

Dade also developed an interest in local history, possibly inspired by his exposure to the old records stored in parish churches. This interest appears to have emerged after his parish register scheme. He was inducted into the Society of Antiquaries in 1783 and commenced work on two books: one detailing the local history of Holderness, where he had attended school, and another listing births, marriages, and deaths of prominent individuals. These pursuits further cemented his place in the annals of family history history.

Dade’s distinction was not merely in recording extra information or being a meticulous record-keeper. Other clergy shared similar inclinations. For Dade, the shift to more detailed records stemmed not from historical interest or a passion for the past, but from a concern for the future. As he noted in the register when initiating his enhanced records, “This scheme if properly put in execution will afford much clearer intelligence to the researches of posterity than the imperfect method hitherto generally pursued.” He reasoned that future families would seek more comprehensive knowledge of their past, particularly their personal family history history. His motivation was rooted in future generations and their needs; Dade was considering the enduring impact of his actions on the lives of unknown individuals across time.

This forward-thinking approach aligns with what Ari Wallach, in a recent TED talk, termed “transgenerational thinking.” Wallach described an ethic that transcends immediate concerns, contemplating how actions resonate into the future, far beyond an individual’s lifetime. Dade’s initiative exemplifies this concept within the context of family history history.

Two Pillars of Human Nature: Foresight and Connection in Family History History

Underlying Dade’s actions and Wallach’s concept are two fundamental aspects of human instinct: first, the capacity to envision, imagine, and plan for the future, and second, the inclination and ability to consider strangers—to think beyond ourselves. The ability to plan for the future and contemplate how present actions shape tomorrow is uniquely human, distinguishing us from all other living beings. This foresight is crucial in understanding the enduring nature of family history history.

Psychologist Daniel Gilbert aptly summarized this, stating, “We think about the future in a way that no other animal can, does, or ever has, and this simple, ubiquitous, ordinary act is a defining feature of our humanity.” According to Gilbert, no chimpanzee “weeps at the thought of growing old alone, or smiles as it contemplates its summer vacation, or turns down a Fudgsicle because it already looks too fat in shorts.” Only humans possess this capacity—though we are not always adept at using it to benefit ourselves and others, especially in the realm of family history history.

Another distinctive human trait, often underutilized, is the ability to cooperate with strangers and act in their best interests, even at personal cost. This capacity for cooperation and altruism is a remarkable achievement of humanity. Evolutionary biologists emphasize that humans are inherently predisposed to cooperate, not only with known individuals or relatives but also with countless strangers. This inherent capacity extends beyond mere cooperation to include a unique ability to care about and have compassion for strangers—to assume responsibility for them. In essence, humans are built to belong to one another, a principle deeply relevant to the interconnectedness revealed through family history history.

Without this capacity for cooperation, forming effective groups beyond approximately 150 individuals would be impossible. However, with it, we harness the collective power of millions and billions. When this capacity for caring is disregarded in large groups, issues like suicide, addiction, unhappiness, and greed proliferate. Conversely, when we act on this impulse, large human groups are capable of—and biologically predisposed for—immense goodness. The underutilization of this goodness is evident. Though inherently compassionate, caring, and loving, humans are also, in King Benjamin’s words, fallen, weak, incapable of consistently acting on our best instincts, and opposed to our noblest, even divine, impulses. Yet, the fundamental truth remains: we are built to cooperate and belong not only to our kin but to all of humanity, a truth illuminated by the study of family history history.

Atheists, philosophers, historians, podcasters, Holocaust survivors, writers, therapists, military veterans, ministers, and psychologists concur with biologists: cultivating lasting relationships and connections with others is essential for a happy and meaningful life. Figures as diverse as author and atheist Alain de Botton, On Being podcast host Krista Tippett, concentration camp survivor Viktor Frankl, Christian social worker Brené Brown, war veteran and journalist Sebastian Junger, historian of Mormon theology Samuel Brown, Congregationalist historian and archivist Margaret Bendroth, Methodism founder John Wesley, and BYU psychology professor Brent Slife, despite their varied backgrounds, converge on the same fundamental principle: building relationships with others, loving others, is humanity’s most crucial endeavor—not a byproduct but the very purpose of life. In Slife’s words, loving others must be “an end, not . . . a means.” And John Wesley stated, “The gospel of Christ knows of no religion but social; no holiness but social holiness.” These perspectives underscore the profound human need for connection, a central theme in family history history.

Genealogical Consciousness: Connecting Across Time in Family History History

This seemingly circuitous path, diverging from my direct research and experience, illustrates that William Dade’s rationale for enriching parish registers tapped into the universal human capacity for future-oriented thinking and the innate desire to connect and belong. In this regard, he may not have been exceptional, as his actions are replicable. However, his uniqueness lay in combining these two human behaviors. While social scientists, authors, and journalists have emphasized the importance of relationships or future planning, Dade integrated both simultaneously. He contemplated relationships across time—vast stretches of time—and extended his concern beyond personal acquaintances to encompass strangers. This is more than just transgenerational thinking; it is what I term genealogical consciousness, a concept central to family history history.

Genealogical consciousness is an ethic, a moral framework for behavior rooted in perceiving oneself and one’s actions as inextricably linked to the lives and hopes of individuals across past, present, and future generations. Dade’s hope that future genealogists would gain “clearer intelligence” from his records might seem a modest aspiration, but the true power of his actions lies in his recognition of interconnectedness with future strangers. He acted selflessly, anticipating no personal reward, yet providing a valuable service for which they would be grateful. He viewed them as people, not as abstract entities or inconsequential figures, demonstrating a profound understanding of family history history.

Genealogical consciousness entails recognizing the interconnectedness of past, present, and future—not abstractly, but through the lived realities of thinking and feeling individuals—and understanding our links across time and space. This resonates with Margaret Bendroth’s idea:

Instead of defining ourselves through associations with once-famous people, or taking our ancestors too lightly by assuming they were not as complex as we are, we should want an encounter with the past that will challenge and deepen [us].

Similarly, we need an encounter with the future that challenges and enriches us, a future intrinsically linked to our understanding of family history history.

The Universal Desire for Remembrance in Family History History

Most individuals desire to be remembered, to leave a lasting legacy, regardless of its scale. As Umberto Eco observed, “We [make] lists because we don’t want to die.” Indeed, historical records, monuments, and memorials reflect a deep-seated human hope for remembrance. What else could have motivated the builder of my home in 1951 to inscribe his name on plaster destined to be covered, if not a vestige of hope for immortality through his craft and name, a poignant example within family history history?

However, Dade’s actions were not driven by personal ambition for remembrance. He was thinking of us—future strangers—and our inherent need to belong and connect to something larger and more enduring than ourselves. His focus was on the collective family history history, not personal fame.

The posterity William Dade envisioned benefiting from his efforts was not his own. He remained childless until his death in 1790, as did his sister, who died in 1782, and his surviving brother, who passed away in 1806. The detailed records of Dade and his sister’s deaths, contrasted with the more typical, less informative record of his brother’s burial, reveal the limited reach of Dade’s innovation. He and his family faded into obscurity. Despite his significance to English genealogy and family history history, his family did not appear as a cohesive group on major online family tree collections until recently, when research for this discussion led to the organization of Dade family files on FamilySearch’s family tree.

The knowledge of Dade’s family was not the only thing that faded. Despite some Church of England clergy adopting Dade’s methods, his remarkable idea did not endure. The practice largely disappeared after 1813, when regulations for Church of England registers changed, mandating preprinted books that restricted the flexibility that had allowed Dade’s expansive approach. While some vicars continued to add extra information within the printed formats into the 1840s, the practice largely vanished, never to return. Except for those researching their ancestry in these records, William Dade remains largely unknown—until now. His story, however, underscores the often-unseen contributions that shape family history history.

Yet, genealogical consciousness itself was not lost. Joseph Smith, Wilford Woodruff, and Susa Young Gates, drawing from their personal religious and spiritual experiences, extended this concept to encompass all of humanity across time, emphasizing our interconnectedness with each other and with the divine. Their work built upon the foundations of family history history, expanding its scope and significance.

Susa Young Gates: A Champion of Genealogical Consciousness in Family History History

It is essential to acknowledge the remarkable contributions of Susa Young Gates, whose work is often less recognized than that of Joseph Smith or Wilford Woodruff. A prominent figure in late-nineteenth and early-twentieth-century Mormon leadership, instrumental in establishing the Young Woman’s Journal and the Relief Society Magazine, and a fervent advocate for women’s suffrage, Gates was also deeply passionate about genealogy and family history history. In the 1890s, she collected information from living relatives and traveled to archives in the East for research.

In 1902, facing serious illness, she received a blessing foretelling her continued temple work and a “greater work than [she had] ever done before.” This blessing transformed her focus from personal and familial genealogical pursuits to a profound commitment to genealogical consciousness. She wrote that while already interested in temple work, she now “felt that I must do something more, something to help all the members of the Church.” Following this pivotal experience, Gates became a formidable force in genealogical endeavors for others, shaping the landscape of family history history.

Although the Church had established the Genealogical Society of Utah (GSU) in 1894 and maintained genealogical libraries in temples, there was no Church-wide genealogical education or training initiative at the turn of the twentieth century. Gates collaborated with the GSU, published genealogical articles, worked to improve temple ordinance indexing, founded the Daughters of Utah Pioneers, authored genealogy lessons, wrote the first genealogical how-to manual in the United States in 1912, and integrated family history work into the Relief Society’s activities. She dedicated two decades to this work, until the Church gradually assumed greater involvement and centralization of genealogical efforts after the 1920s—her long-held aspiration. Her tireless efforts significantly advanced the cause of family history history.

Gates’s unwavering dedication was rooted in her strong character and, crucially, in her genealogical consciousness—a driving force that emerged when she felt a calling to serve people beyond her own family. Her legacy is a testament to the power of this consciousness within family history history.

Genealogical Knowledge and Identity vs. Genealogical Consciousness in Family History History

What does genealogical consciousness mean for us today? While some might assume a predominantly Mormon audience is inherently genealogically conscious, it’s important to differentiate between genealogical knowledge, genealogically based identity, and true genealogical consciousness. Genealogical consciousness transcends mere knowledge, incorporating empathetic wisdom that knowledge alone cannot provide, enriching our understanding of family history history.

Genealogical knowledge, in itself, is captivating. Personally, I have enjoyed filling out pedigree charts since childhood, and discovering genealogical information is inherently satisfying. Many share this enthusiasm, although passionate engagement in genealogical knowledge gathering is not universally widespread. While this group can and should expand, it is unlikely to encompass the majority.

The encouraging aspect is that while passionate genealogical knowledge gathering is not widespread, a larger group is interested in what genealogy can offer them and their families. For example, it is estimated that a third of UK adults have explored their ancestry online. This widespread interest is often attributed to genealogy’s ability to provide a sense of identity, a significant driver in contemporary family history history. Identity is indeed a central theme in modern genealogy, heavily emphasized in the genealogical industry and even in some Mormon genealogical practices.

However, William Dade and Susa Young Gates went beyond personal identity. Anchoring identity through genealogy is valuable, providing a sense of rootedness in an often rootless world, even serving as a belief system for some. Yet, identity-focused genealogy alone offers only partial belonging.

Obsessively pursuing “endless genealogies” to assert special status is unproductive and, as Paul suggests, potentially detrimental. The Savior cautioned that lineage from Abraham is meaningless without a corresponding humble way of life. Focusing solely on personal identity in genealogy risks exclusivity, a pitfall evident throughout family history history.

If genealogy remains confined to individual identity, it will never fully overcome its exclusionary tendencies. Its historical association with elitist and racist ideologies demonstrates the ease with which it can devolve into tribalism, eugenics, racism, and isolationist nationalism. A myopic focus on “our” ancestors risks neglecting the broader human family history history. Genealogical consciousness, conversely, not only avoids these pitfalls but actively counteracts them. It dissolves destructive boundaries, reminding us that there is no “them,” only “us,” fostering unity despite differences.

Viewing genealogical knowledge and identity as tools, means to an end, is crucial for developing genealogical consciousness. We often prioritize knowledge over the wisdom of consciousness, emphasizing name acquisition and information consumption over genuine connection with ancestors. This approach is ultimately futile, leading to endless pursuit without true understanding. We exhaust ourselves in the doing, postponing genuine connection for “later,” missing the essence of genealogical consciousness. Getting to know our ancestors is the point, the source of real power. As Philippians urges, we should seek consolation, love, compassion, and sympathy in one another, acting without selfishness or conceit, valuing others above ourselves. This ethos is fundamental to true genealogical consciousness and a richer understanding of family history history.

Embracing True Genealogical Consciousness in Family History History

True genealogical consciousness transcends mere knowledge or the pursuit of personal or group identity. It compels us to pause, reflect, and engage deeply with the lives and choices of others, both past and present. It allows us to recognize our shared humanity with those who lived before us and to contemplate the choices they faced within the broad sweep of family history history.

I recall reading the papers of the Travell family in an English archive. In Anne Travell’s diary from August 1780, I encountered the sudden death of her “dear sister[-in-law] and friend” Martha at age forty-one. Tears welled up as I mourned Martha’s loss. Initially, I was taken aback, realizing that everyone from 1780 is deceased. However, upon further reflection, my tears were not solely for Martha’s death but for the pain it inflicted on her family and friends. Anne wrote of spending the evening writing twenty “dreadful” letters informing loved ones of Martha’s passing. I could vividly imagine the dreadfulness of this task and the profound grief of losing a close friend and sister-in-law—a person I, too, had grown to appreciate through her letters. I contemplated the devastating impact of losing a sibling or sibling-in-law. In that moment, the temporal and spatial distance between Anne and myself dissolved, replaced by a fleeting yet powerful connection and empathy, a profound moment within family history history.

Like Dade, pausing to consider those long deceased enables us to shift our focus to present and future relationships. As Margaret Bendroth suggests:

The choice is not to load our ancestors down with honors or run away from them as fast as we can—our . . . faith requires us to take the past seriously and to receive its people warmly and wisely. It requires us to be generous, and in a fundamental way truly inclusive.

This extends further. Developing genealogical consciousness, by contemplating past strangers, cultivates the capacity to consider present and future strangers, and the enduring impact of our relationships and actions beyond our lifetimes, resonating through family history history. Genealogical consciousness demands compassionate, Christlike action.

In conclusion, let me explain my title. As a historian of the eighteenth century, I am accustomed to the lengthy, narrative titles common in that era. As a children’s literature enthusiast, I appreciate E. L. Konigsburg’s title Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth.

These influences explain the narrative style of my title, but not the content, nor the dead cats. Why not simply title this “Developing Genealogical Consciousness,” the core message? I suspected, based on experience, that using genealogy or family history in the title for a Latter-day Saint audience might deter attendance, except for those already deeply immersed in family history. While I value this group, I aimed to reach those who might not see the relevance of genealogical pursuits or feel burdened by family history. I sought to offer a fresh perspective. The title, while perhaps unconventional, aims to pique interest and broaden the appeal beyond the typical family history history enthusiast.

Our shared theology is rich in genealogical consciousness, offering potential for positive change. As Patrick Q. Mason observes:

This [Mormon] image of being knit together, with the children of God in all our diversity inextricably and intricately interwoven, is at the heart of Mormonism’s social ideal. It reflects a life-affirming theology predicated on the notion that the entire family of God can and will be eternally bound together—that heaven is less about where we are than who we are with and the quality of our relationships.

Genealogical consciousness is a label emphasizing the durability of relationships across past, present, and future—relationships built for eternity—and their potential to unlock divine power. We must move beyond treating genealogy as a niche activity or a numbers game for temple names. If that is our motivation, that limited achievement is our sole reward. True engagement with family history history demands more.

Genealogical consciousness transcends a mere hobby; it is a way of being, a perspective on our place and responsibility within the continuum of generations. It promises to dismantle prejudice, overcome historical hatred, and unite us when other connections fail. It transforms our innate desire to belong, replacing tribalism with a Zion-like unity. If Elijah’s return was meant to prevent utter desolation, then the Spirit bearing his name has a greater purpose for us to realize, enriching not just family history history, but our shared future.

Notes

Thomas W. Laqueur, The Work of the Dead: A Cultural History of Mortal Remains (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015), 17; see Peter LLC, “Naming the Dead,” By Common Consent (blog), 27 June 2017, bycommonconsent.com/2017/06/27/naming-the-dead.
See baptism of Thomas Dade, 22 September 1736, Yorkshire, bishop’s transcripts of baptisms, Church of England, Rillington, Borthwick Institute for Archives, findmypast.co.uk; baptism of Mary Dade, 12 October 1737, Yorkshire bishop’s transcripts of baptisms, Church of England, Rillington, Borthwick Institute for Archives, findmypast.co.uk; baptism of John Dade, 6 February 1740, Yorkshire bishop’s transcripts, Church of England, St. Michael-le-Belfry, York, FHL film 7574348; baptism of William Dade, 26 January 1741, Yorkshire, bishop’s transcripts of baptisms, Church of England, Burton Agnes, Borthwick Institute for Archives, findmypast .co.uk.
W. M. Jacob, The Clerical Profession in the Long Eighteenth Century 1680–1840 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 39.
See entries for Thomas Dade and William Dade in J. A. Venn, comp., Alumni Cantabrigienses, part 2, from 1752 to 1900, vol. 2 (Cambridge: University Press, 1944), 210; also available at ancestry.co.uk.
See “Rev. Thomas Dade,” St. Martin’s Church, Burton Agnes, Yorkshire, England, memorial #102828684, findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page =gr&GRid=102828684.
See Amy M. Froide, Never Married: Singlewomen in Early Modern England (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 2.
See Joanne Bailey, Parenting in England 1760–1830: Emotion, Identity, and Generation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 39.
See Patrick Wallis, Cliff Webb, and Chris Minns, “Leaving Home and Entering Service: The Age of Apprenticeship in Early Modern London,” Continuity and Change 25, no. 3 (December 2010): 377–404.
I arrived at the 4 to 9 percent figure by using the UK Office for National Statistics 2014 report, specifically, “Marital Status by Age Group (Age 16 and Over), 2014,” which covered England and Wales. For those over the age of seventy-five, 4 to 4.6 percent were listed as single. For those between the ages of fifty-five and sixty-five, 8 to 10.4 percent were listed as single. If most of that latter group remains unmarried the rest of their lives (which is the most likely trajectory), then the percentage of those never marrying or partnering will inch up closer to 9 percent. (See “Population Estimates by Marital Status and Living Arrangements, England and Wales: 2002 to 2014,” Office for National Statistics, 8 July 2015, ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/populationandmigration/populationestimates/bulletins/populationestimatesbymaritalstatusandlivingarrangements/2015-07-08).
See Jacob, The Clerical Profession, 38–41.
See Leonore Davidoff, Thicker Than Water: Siblings and Their Relations, 1780–1920 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012); also Amy Harris, Siblinghood and Social Relations in Georgian England: Share and Share Alike (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012).
George Cumberland to Richard Cumberland, 18 October 1778, in The Cumberland Letters: Being the Correspondence of Richard Dennison Cumberland and George Cumberland Between the Years 1771 and 1784, ed. Clementina Black (London: Martin Secker, 1912), 214.
William Dade, St. Helen’s, York, parish register, 1770; cited in FamilySearch Wiki, s.v. “Dade parish registers,” familysearch.org/wiki/en/Dade_parish_registers.
See Pasquala Francisca Jacinta Alarcon Y Briz, 11 September 1764, baptism, “España, Diócesis de Albacete, registros parroquiales, 1504–1979,” FamilySearch.org; citing Nuestra Señora de la Asunción, Jorquera, Albacete, Spain, Archivo Histórico de Archidiócesis de Albacete, Albacete (Albacete Archdiocese Historical Archives, Albacete); FHL microfilm 1,279,590.
See William Joseph Sheils, “Dade, William (bap. 1741, d. 1790),” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004–16), oxforddnb.com.
See Ackworth, Yorkshire, parish registers kept by Timothy Lee, 1744–77, West Yorkshire Archive Service, Wakefield, Yorkshire, D 77/3, in “West Yorkshire, England, Church of England Baptisms, Marriages and Burials, 1512–1812,” ancestry.com.
Dade, St. Helen’s, York, parish register; cited in FamilySearch Research Wiki, s.v. “Dade parish registers.”
Ari Wallach, “Three Ways to Plan for the (Very) Long Term,” Tedx Mid-Atlantic talk, October 2016, ted.com/talks/ari_wallach_3_ways_to_plan_for_the_very_long_term.
See Daniel Gilbert, Stumbling on Happiness (New York: Knopf, 2006), 21–25.
Gilbert, Stumbling on Happiness, 4.
See Yuval Noah Harari, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind (New York: Harper, 2015), 25, 38.
See Sebastian Junger, Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging (New York: Twelve, 2016), xvi.
See Junger, Tribe,25–27.
See Mosiah 2–4.
See Dacher Keltner, Born to Be Good: The Science of a Meaningful Life (New York: W. W. Norton, 2009); also Christopher Bergland, “The Evolutionary Biology of Altruism,” The Athlete’s Way (blog), Psychology Today, 25 December 2012, psychologytoday.com/blog/the-athletes-way /201212/the-evolutionary-biology-altruism.
Brent D. Slife, “The Experience of Love and the Limitations of Psychological Explanation,” BYU forum address, 16 May 2017.
John Wesley and Charles Wesley, Hymns and Sacred Poems (London: Strahan, 1743), preface, page v. My thanks to Rachel Cope, who exposed me to this line of Methodist thinking.
Margaret Bendroth, The Spiritual Practice of Remembering (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 2013), 10.
Umberto Eco, from an interview with Suzanne Beyer and Lothar Gorris, “We Like Lists Because We Don’t Want to Die,” Spiegel Online, 11 November 2009, spiegel.de/international/zeitgeist/spiegel-interview-with-umberto-eco-we-like-lists-because-we-don-t-want-to-die-a-659577.html; quoted in Laqueur, Work of the Dead, 374.
See death of William Dade, 26 July 1790, Yorkshire burials transcription, Church of England, Barmston, East Riding Archives and Local Studies Service, PE6/4, findmypast.co.uk;death of Mary Dade, 20 April 1782, Yorkshire burials transcription, Church of England, St. Mary Castlegate, Borthwick Institute for Archives, PR Y/MC 138, findmypast.co.uk; burial of Thomas Dade, 24 November 1806, Yorkshire burials transcription, Church of England, Burton Agnes, East Riding Archives and Local Studies Service, PE60/2, findmypast.co.uk.
See Richard E. Turley Jr., “The Latter-day Saint Doctrine of Baptism for the Dead,” BYU family history fireside, 9 November 2001, cfhg.byu.edu/pdf/firesides/2001-11-09.pdf.
“Susa Young Gates,” Utah Genealogical and Historical Magazine 24, no. 3 (July 1933): 98; cited in Lisa Olsen Tait, “Susa Young Gates and the Vision of the Redemption of the Dead: D&C 138,” Church History: Revelations in Context, 14 August 2015, history.lds.org/article/susa-young-gates-vision-of-redemption?lang=eng.
“Susa Young Gates,” 99; also in Tait, “Susa Young Gates.”
See Deborah Cohen, Family Secrets: Shame and Privacy in Modern Britain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 258.
See Cohen, Family Secrets,264.
1 Timothy 1:4; see Titus 3:9.
See Matthew 3:9; John 8:33.
4 Nephi 1:17.
See 2 Timothy 3:7.
Philippians 2:1, 3 (New Revised Standard Version).
Anne Travell, day book, 27 August 1780, Lloyd-Baker Family of Hardwicke Court Collection, Gloucestershire Archives, D4582/4/17.
Travell, day book, 27 August 1780.
Bendroth, The Spiritual Practice, 97.
Patrick Q. Mason, Planted: Belief Belonging in an Age of Doubt (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2015), 171.

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Amy Harris

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