Trap #1 - Great-Aunt Agatha's Memory Was Perfect

Most people remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when JFK was assassinated or man first walked on the moon...or more recently, the Twin Towers fell. But do you really believe an elderly relative can accurately recall, from memory, details of less newsworthy events that took place thirty or forty...or more...years ago?

Having been the main participant in my now-grown children's arrival on the planet, I can always remember the month and day each came into the world, but not necessarily the year. Not because my memory is failing, mind you, but rather because Life has added several decades of new information to the file cabinet between my ears.

Therefore, unless Great-Aunt Agatha is sharing how your grandfather nearly died at the age of 7 after being stung by a rogue bee at a family picnic in the park, be sure to verify her "facts" through other sources. If this isn't possible for one reason or another, at least add a disclaimer to that effect, which will alert future generations to search for documentation.

Trap #2 - Tombstones Don't Lie

YES...they DO. For the simple reason that what you see "carved in stone" is nothing more than the end result of a multi-step process rife with opportunities for human error.

First, the person ordering the stone must've provided the deceased's correct birthdate. The documentation required these days for drivers licenses or Social Security cards minimizes, if not totally eliminates, the chances for error at this point. But two hundred years ago, or even a hundred, it wasn't so easy to verify a loved one's birthdate. Hence, it was not uncommon for women, out of vanity, to shave a few years off their ages. But men could be equally vain, especially when courting a much younger bride.

Even with a correct birthdate, the next opportunity for error was when the date was entered on the order form. The person taking the order could be dyslexic and transpose some of the numbers, although he or she wouldn't remain employed very long if this happened very often. The order was then given to an engraver, who might also be dyslexic, or might've hoisted one too many at the local pub the previous evening and things still looked a bit fuzzy in the morning light. Nowdays, stones are engraved with a machine, but back when a hammer and chisel were the tools of the trade, an inscription was only as accurate as the stone carver's proficiency with his tools. A slip of the chisel, and rather than waste a perfectly good (and expensive!) chunk of marble, a "3" would become an "8" instead, or a botched "7", a "2".

The placement of surnames on a tombstone can also lead a family historian down the wrong path.

After spinster Agnes Stillings' father died in Kansas in 1910, she and her elderly mother moved to a small town in Washington, where she became the local Postmistress. Agnes was in her early forties and still unmarried when her mother died. A double stone was purchased, and "STILLINGS" engraved across the top. On the left half were her mother's first name and dates; on the right, her own first name and birthdate.

Fast forward five years. Agnes meets Harvey Miller, a local merchant several years her senior. They marry. Agnes Stillings becomes Agnes Miller. Alas, Harvey died two years after the wedding, and was buried in the same plot as Agnes's mother. "Harvey Miller" was added to the stone in the space between "Maryann" and "Agnes".

Not a problem if one knows Harvey and Agnes were husband and wife. But the person who walked the cemetery in 2001 apparently didn't, and incorrectly recorded the trio as "STILLINGS, Maryann", "STILLINGS, Harvey Miller", and STILLINGS, Agnes".

Stillings descendants unaware that Agnes married in mddle age could easily make the same mistake, and unless they check other sources, could very well spend years looking for the birth record of Agnes's "brother": "Harvey Miller Stillings".

By the same token, if Harvey Miller was married prior to Agnes...which his age at their marriage would indicate is a distinct possibility...descendants of the first marriage may have difficulty locating his grave.

Trap #3 - Census Takers Didn't Make Mistakes

Well, not intentionally. Censuses are great research tools, but just that - a tool. Enumerators were human, not psychic, and only recorded the information provided by whichever household member came to the door, or if a child answered, whichever adult happened to be home.

Also, enumerators weren't required to meet every person an informant stated was a resident of the address. For this reason, grown sons or recently married daughters who'd already left home were often shown in U.S. and UK censuses as still living with their parents. It was also not uncommon for a wife whose husband had left her to tell the enumerator, out of shame or optimism, that he still lived with her. As for the ages of household members, again the enumerator only recordeed whatever he was told.

Enumerators were supposed to visit every home in their assigned area, but that doesn't mean they did. Depending on the time of year and the weather, an enumerator might record whatever information he could glean about the residents of one address from neighbors at the next. During the late 1800s, it was considered "impolite" for a census taker to ask the spelling of a last name. Unless he had personal knowledge of the surname or a family member voluntarily spelled it for him, he was to spell it the best he could. For this reason, if you can't find an ancestor with an unusual last name under the correct spelling in a census, try the phonetic spelling. For instance, "Cop" instead of "Kaup" or "Koph". Also, if your ancestor was a recent immigrant, imagine how the name might've sounded with a thick accent, and that's probably how the census taker heard it too.