Porpoise graves

It was with much amusement that I looked at the AI-generated script of a Youtubed genealogy lecture. I momentarily lost the thread when the words paupers' graves were translated as "porpoise graves". 

But it neatly sums up the situation that a genealogist can find themselves in on occasion - a slightly off-kilter view of reality. Long before Artificial Intelligence solidified its presence, there have been many times when a chuckle was appropriate at the irony in research.

A distant family relative named Coral may have been amused when she married a man with the surname of Kay. 

Coral's mother was also the subject of a genealogical quirk. She was born prior to the marriage of her parents and formally adopted by them afterwards. As a consequence, her birth certificate is not able to be purchased, even though her birthdate and other details are fully available in services such as Find My Past. 

Coincidental connections in the English language are sometimes made without effort, but puns can be even more humourous. The following headline is a favourite, even though the story is unfortunate for the protagonists.

WIFE'S YANK KNOCKED THE "G" OUT OF GLOVER (1943, September 5).
Truth (Brisbane, Qld. : 1900 - 1954), p. 14.
Retrieved from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article203756892

Close family has also been the subject of irony. My Sicilian father-in-law married a girl with 19th century Australian roots in Sydney in 1946 while he was still serving as a Prisoner Of War at Cowra during World War II. This immediately conferred Italian citizenship on his bride while removing her Australian citizenship, as was required under war regulations.  

He had to be repatriated to Italy in 1947, but he returned, and family life resumed from then on. In 1953, he became a naturalised Australian. Was his wife still Italian? 

Still an enigma

Vegetable Creek. (1874, March 28). 
Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, NSW : 1870 - 1919), p. 20. 
http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article70473485

As the search for John Henry d'Chave, or John H. De Chave, or H. DeChave continues, it has become clear that this is not his real name. 

For a moment, I thought he may have crossed paths with J. W. Lindt, the German photographer who resided in Grafton, New South Wales, during the 1870s. They may have met and recognised the wandering soul in each other. 

I have explained this in a brief story I submitted to NED, Australia's National Electronic Deposit service, hosted by the National Library and all State and Territory Libraries. Luckily, the State Library of New South Wales took me on and the story will remain available in Trove. 

It's not clear where or when the search will end. John Henry remains an enigma.