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Stories stitched through generations — because every family tree has roots worth remembering.

I’m what you might call a second-generation child — my siblings were 16, 18, and 20 years older than me. That meant I didn’t grow up knowing many of my grandparents, and by the time my son was born in June 1988, I found myself staring at his baby book, realizing just how many blanks I couldn’t fill in. My father had already passed when I was ten, and my mother had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage.

That moment sparked my journey — or maybe I should say my climb — up the family tree. Over the years, I’ve wandered down winding paths, uncovered long-lost branches, and stitched together stories from both my family and my husband’s. One of my proudest accomplishments is The Bellah/Bellar Family Register Revisited, a labor of love that traces twelve generations of one line in my husband’s family. The original Bellah Family Register was entrusted to me by the author with a simple but powerful request: update it to the best of my ability.

I gave my word, and with the help of a few dedicated cousins who shared their records and stories, we created a book we can all be proud of. So pull up a chair and take a look — you never know, we just might be kin.
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