I’ve had a passion for genealogy for as long as I can remember—I just didn’t know it had a name.
As a child, I was drawn to the family stories my grandmother told and captivated by her scrapbooks and photo albums filled with long-ago faces and forgotten events. The mystery of my paternal side, which no one ever discussed, only deepened my curiosity. As a teenager, I started searching for answers—but not knowing what I was doing, I didn’t get far. College and life pulled me away for a while.
When my first child was born, I eagerly opened the baby book—only to find I couldn’t complete the family tree. I knew my paternal grandparents, but beyond that? Nothing. My dad told me he’d give me a family book I hadn’t known existed—someday. But when that day came, and he passed, the book never made its way to me. My stepmother found it too much trouble to mail.
So I turned to the internet, which was just beginning to bloom, and took a beginner class at a local Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In hindsight, what I really needed back then was a mentor—someone to show me the ropes, answer my endless questions, and guide me along the path. I should have joined a local or national organization. But with a full-time job, kids to raise, elders to care for, a house to run—and no extra money to spare—I didn’t.
Instead, I used every scrap of free time to work on my tree. I shared my excitement with colleagues, though most didn’t understand why I’d spend vacation time at the Family History Library in Salt Lake. Still, when they had family mysteries, they came to me. I happily helped, and they were amazed at what I uncovered.
More requests came in. I never charged a cent—it never occurred to me to think of myself as a professional.
Then one day, a former boss told me, “You know, people would probably pay you to do this.” I was stunned—and, honestly, panicked. I thought he was letting me go and hinting I should start a business in the middle of a recession. He laughed and clarified: “You’re very good at this. You could turn it into something real.”
I set that thought aside. Life was already complicated.
But as the kids grew up and moved out, I finally had more time—and a little more money. I joined a local society and two national organizations. I attended conferences, subscribed to journals, and slowly built my confidence. I chose a name for my business: Genealogy At Heart, because I wanted to focus on what I loved—helping people uncover those sensitive family secrets. With my background in education and counseling, it was a natural fit.
What I didn’t know? That there were resources out there to help me from the start. I hadn’t heard of SCORE, a free business mentoring service. I didn’t know about the Association of Professional Genealogists, which offers tools, advice, and a sense of community. Had I joined an organization earlier—whether a local society or a national group—I would have had a much smoother beginning as a business owner.
Genealogy can feel like a solitary pursuit. We stay up late combing through records, take solo road trips to distant archives, and keep quiet at family gatherings to avoid the eye rolls. But it doesn’t have to be lonely. And it shouldn’t be.
Today, I’m actively involved in several genealogical organizations. They’ve helped me refine my research, consult with experts, and become a better genealogist—not just for clients, but for my own family, too. I no longer rely solely on myself, and I’ve learned that collaboration isn’t a luxury—it’s a strength.
Looking back, I can only imagine how much further I’d be if I’d learned this lesson sooner. But I’m glad I did.
