There is a little town that rests along the Ohio River’s edge - Gallipolis, in Gallia County. If you drive up the hill in the early hours, you’ll reach a quiet cemetery with views stretching across to West Virginia, or down into a postcard-perfect valley that could pass for Main Street, U.S.A.. If you wander near the town square, you might hear the slow creak of a swing along the riverbank, a father and daughter gently swaying while chatting about life. In the center of the park, a bandstand rises over the lawn, evoking echoes of music on warm summer evenings. Even in mid-October, the flowers hanging in baskets still burst with color—holding onto summer in a way that feels almost defiant.
This is the landscape my ancestors once called home.
Through years of research, I’ve come to know their names, their land plots, their resting places—each a breadcrumb along the trail of my family's history. Maps have shown me exactly where they farmed. Records confirm they were there. I’ve stood in the cemetery bearing my surname, nestled on corners of land that once sustained them. And yet, when speaking with locals about my ancestors, I realized how little they were remembered.
How can generations of a family live in one place and yet vanish from memory?
It was in that moment I knew: if I didn’t tell their story, who would? Outside of my own research and my grandmother’s dedication, there are no others in my family piecing it together. I couldn’t let them be reduced to just names in a database. I wanted them to be known—not just by me, but by the community they helped shape.
After months of gathering evidence, submitting documentation, and leaning on the amazing support of my genealogy society circle of friends, my efforts were recognized. My ancestors were officially honored as “Builders and Settlers” of Gallia County, having lived there between 1821 and 1860. During a special ceremony, their names were read aloud, one by one:
Lester Hulbert, Feronia Henshaw, Alonzo Hulbert, Lydia Watts, Charles J. Hulbert, Florida Kerr, Benson Kerr, Martha Perkins, Andrew Kerr, and Susannah Carns.
As the names echoed in the room, emotion caught me off guard. For the first time, my ancestors were no longer just entries on a page—they were acknowledged, remembered, and real to others.
They are now part of the official narrative of Gallia County, Ohio.
They are no longer forgotten.
"I saw behind me those who had gone, and before me those who are to come. I looked back and saw my father, and his father, and all our fathers, and in front to see my son, and his son, and the sons upon sons beyond. And their eyes were my eyes." - Richard Llewellyn
Land once farmed by the Hulbert family in Gallia County, Ohio
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