This is how our search began.  As we siblings grew old enough to compare our world to those of other families, we realized that we had no grandfathers.   For some reason, inquiries caused evasive and emotional reactions from some relatives.  Reactions that were meant to discourage us.  And they did.  Of course, this only intensified our curiosity but we did not know who would be willing to help us.  Gradually, however, bits of information were gleaned from eavesdropping on conversations that touched on incidents from the past.  The adults always enjoyed these reminiscences to the point that most concluded with everyone convulsed in gales of laughter.  The general theme was that the "kids" had got away with some prank and there was an air of disclosure that was calculated to shock the "elders".  Still, we heard nothing about what interested us most.   Much later, we found out that much had indeed happened in those early days; some events perceived as so tragic that they still caused pain.  So the "merry" gatherings brought out stories about the "good times".  So, pain begat forgetfulness which begat indifference which begat ignorance.  We knew nothing about the absent members of the family; not even if they were living or dead.

After 18 years of night school, I quit work and went to school full time to finish my degree.  Between classes, I did my homework,   my study hall was a carrel in the Library.  Eventually, I noticed the books and caught the research bug.  I had heard the statement that a maternal Great-Grandmother had been a descendant of Meriwether Lewis.  The library had a copy of the city directory of Auburn, New York.  In it I found the name of a Dentist named Lewis.  Auburn was the home of the renowned State Penitentiary; an association not useful in her proper Victorian Society.   The other Lewis had come to a tragic end and had no known children.   I began writing to places where legal records were kept and asked for copies of documents that might shed light on the family history.  Suddenly, I discovered that my mother was not who she said she was!  From her birth certificate, it seemed that Mary Elizabeth McDonell had been born Estelle Theodora Crampton!  That surprise was forgotten at once.  The names of her parents were listed.  Her father was Theodore Henry Miller Crampton, an engineer from New York City.  This Crampton fellow, who liked to sign his letters "THMC" had been utterly unknown to us.  Now, we had respectability.  We had a grandfather!   His mother was the confused Lewis woman noted above.

I knew my father's birthplace and birth date.    Soon I had a copy of his birth certificate!  My father's parents were listed.  "Grandma" was Laura May Randall.  The father was Alexander 'McDonnell', a miner from Nova Scotia.  This fellow Alexander was also a grandfather of ours!  Now we had two of them! 

Somehow, we learned of an Angus, who was Alexander's father.  That name was found in Parish Records made in 1856 in Nova Scotia.  We visited his gravesite in Nova Scotia and jotted down his name and those of apparent relatives.  I was satisfied that no other data was to be found and the search ended in 1977.  We would never learn if this family had really come from Scotland.  One of the family was certain it had been Ireland.

The thrill of discovery has not waned a bit since those long ago days but nothing came to light about the Scotland connection until February 2000.   For 23 years, I had not done a thing except wait for a "break".  The Internet, Roots.Com and the "break" had come.