Tracing your roots is another reason to fill out your census

We've heard all of the fiscal reasons for responding to the 2020 census, but there are others that are inherently priceless.I've been on a genealogical journey of late. Actually, my dad instilled the basics from a very early age.I was taught our Fleming lineage all the way back to the original Irish immigrant who landed in Philadelphia, married a Pennsylvania Dutch girl, and migrated to Southwest Virginia. However, there was so much more to the story than I ever knew — and it was hiding in plain sight in the census records.As I delved into Ancestry.com, I learned about my great-great-grandmother, Martha Jane Branham. She went by Patsy or Patty, but we knew her as Granny Pat. Long before she became our revered matriarch, there's a story of a little girl struggling to survive in tumultuous times.She grew up near Pound, Virginia ("The Pound") at an important gap in Pine Mountain where pioneers crossed from Virginia to Kentucky. It's still rugged in 2020. I can imagine what it must've been like back then. As best I can tell, the family lived on the same farm for generations, but the farm fell into differing jurisdictions as new counties were formed, ultimately landing in the northern neck of Wise County.Patty Branham's grandfather, Dr. Billie Roberson, had served as high sheriff of neighboring Scott County before settling in what became the Wise County magisterial district that bears his name to this day.Patty's father, Tandy Branham, was elected high sheriff of Wise County, formed in 1856 just five years before the Civil War began. In a conflict that pitted family against family, he sided with his native state, and in 1863, while actively holding the title of sheriff, my great-great-great-grandfather was killed at the hands of Union soldiers. He was only 32. Census records show he left behind a pregnant wife and six children, one with special needs.At 9 years old, Patty, my great-great-grandmother, the sheriff's daughter, was left fatherless in the time of Reconstruction. I imagine that as the eldest functioning child, she grew up quickly. In those days there was no Social Security or welfare, only the charity of friends, family, and the church. If they didn't operate the farm, they risked starvation and death.By 18, Patty was pregnant. On April 21, 1873 at the age of 19, she gave birth to a baby boy — my great-great-grandfather, Tandy (named after her own father).But here's where it gets complicated.Patty married William "Cripple Billy" Fleming on Dec. 31, 1874 when Tandy was 20 months old. I've not been able to find a reason for his nickname, but in those days of manual labor you had to be physically able to provide for your family. He was seven years her senior and unmarried, so that leads me to believe they each needed the other. They had a long and prosperous life with seven more children, the last born when he was 52 and she was 45.But what about Tandy Fleming, the 20-month-old son raised by William Fleming as his own?Tandy went on to become the sheriff of Dickenson County in 1908. His son, A.A. "Fox" Fleming (my grandfather) became sheriff in 1940. When he lost a re-election bid in 1943, the family moved to Kingsport, where my Uncle Harold became sheriff of Sullivan County, my Uncle Jim became school superintendent of Sullivan County, and I was blessed to serve as city manager of Kingsport.No, we're not biologically Fleming, but we're Fleming in every other sense of the word. DNA tests suggest that I'm a Ratliff, but I'm just beginning that research.I'm thankful that William Fleming adopted my great-grandfather as his own. We each have our journey of self-discovery.One day your children's children, too, may be using census records to research their own.That won't be possible if you don't fill out the 2020 census.