I leave the transcription of Ira Sayles’ letter. I lay it aside, figuratively, in a file inside a folder on my laptop. And yet its presence generates a rumbling, incessant turmoil.
Listen. Listen to me.
The connection between past and present demands attention, but I can’t make out just exactly what that link is.
I find Ira tiresome, pompous, bloviating. It is difficult to discern the reformer, the citizen scientist, the wannabe poet, a man I would like to proudly claim as ancestor.
To write a thorough narrative of Ira Sayles’ life requires me to do just that, however. My great-great-grandfather was a man of his time, complex and earnest; a man wrestling with the coexistence of science and God, and the evolving status of women. Little wonder that I find this genealogical work so arduous.
I would love to hear from fellow family researchers. What do you do when you smell a great story but don’t really like the ancestor? How do you expand the narrative?
Shoots, Roots, and Leaves 
I try to just tell the story and put aside any judgement I may have. It is the story that needs to be told not what you may feel about it. Others will make up their minds and form judgements based on the story you tell.
Thanks for your input. I know, intellectually, that is exactly what I need to do. Thanks for your encouragement.