National Grammar Day: Because “Died Intestate” Is Not a Cause of Death (And Other Genealogy Writing Sins)

National Grammar Day: Let me paint you a picture. You’re scrolling through a family history someone uploaded to their public Ancestry tree. You’re hoping for rich narrative detail about Great-Great-Grandma Olga’s harrowing immigration from Prussia. What you get instead is this:

“Olga come to America in 1887 she was born their and had many children who was farmers.”

I need a moment.

National Grammar Day, celebrated every year on March 4th—and yes, that date is itself a command, so march forth, people—was established in 2008 to promote clear, correct language use. And as someone who has spent decades in the genealogy trenches, I am here to tell you that the genealogy community needs this holiday more than most. We are a community of passionate, detail-obsessed researchers who will drive four hours to examine a courthouse ledger but cannot be bothered to learn the difference between their, there, and they’re.

The audacity. The absolute audacity.

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Grammar Matters in Genealogy—I’m Not Just Being a Pedant (I’m Also Being a Pedant)

Here’s the thing about grammar and genealogy: they are inseparable. Your research is only as credible as your ability to communicate it. A beautifully sourced, meticulously documented family history written like a ransom note does not inspire confidence. It inspires pity.

Strong writing skills are the backbone of effective genealogical communication—whether you’re writing a formal family history narrative, posting research notes in a collaborative tree, or transcribing old family letters for posterity. When you transcribe Great-Uncle Władysław’s 1923 letter and introduce your own spelling errors into the document, you have not preserved history. You have contaminated it. Future researchers will cite your mistakes as fact, and somewhere, a genealogical angel loses its wings.

The Grammar Crimes I See In This Community (Don’t @ Me, I’m Right)

Let’s talk about the specific offenses that make me reach for the antacids.

• Cemetery transcription chaos. Someone visits a cemetery, does God’s own work photographing headstones, and then types up the transcription with the care of someone texting while running. “Born Feb. 3 1842 Died; Aged 67 yrs.” What does that semicolon mean? WHY is it there? A semicolon is not punctuation seasoning. You do not sprinkle it in for flavor.

• The rogue apostrophe. Family history narratives are riddled with sentences like “The Johnson’s moved west in 1851.” The Johnson’s what moved west? Their wagon? Their collective anxiety? The Johnsons—plural, no apostrophe—moved west. The apostrophe indicates possession, not plurality, and this is not a negotiable point of view. This is grammar law.

• Dangling modifiers in research logs. “Having died in 1887, I could not locate further records for Heinrich.” Congratulations. You died in 1887 and you’re still researching. That is commitment. That is also a dangling modifier.

• The Dangling Participle: “After dying at the age of 90, the grandson buried his grandfather.” Wow. That’s one productive corpse.

• The Transcription Tragedy: When transcribing letters, there is a difference between sic (showing an original error) and just being lazy. If you transcribe “He was kilt in the war” without context, your readers will wonder if your 3rd-great-grandfather was a plaid skirt.

• The Oxford Comma: “I’d like to thank my parents, Mary Baker and God.” Unless your mother is a divine entity with a penchant for sourdough, use the comma. It saves lives. Or at least reputations.

March Forth and Fix Your Writing (See What I Did There)

National Grammar Day is your annual nudge—nay, your shove—to treat your genealogy writing with the same rigor you bring to your research. Here are a few actual, practical genealogy tips for the occasion:

• Read your work aloud. If you stumble over a sentence, it needs rewriting. Your mouth is smarter than your eyes when it comes to catching awkward phrasing.

• Use a style guide. The Chicago Manual of Style is the gold standard for family history writing. Keep it close. Pet it occasionally.

• Learn the difference between transcription and abstraction. A transcription is word-for-word, errors and all. An abstraction is your summary. Mixing them up is a genealogical sin with lasting consequences.

• Proofread your tree notes. Other researchers are reading them. Distant cousins are copying them. Your sloppy shorthand is becoming someone else’s published family history. Think about that.

• Celebrate the day with intention. Pick one piece of your genealogy writing—a family narrative, a research log, a biographical sketch—and edit it. Not skim it. Edit You will be horrified and improved in equal measure.

Your Ancestors Deserve a Decent Sentence

Here’s the warm fuzzy truth underneath all my snark: the people we research had real lives, real struggles, real stories. When we write about them badly, we diminish them. When we write about them well—with precision, clarity, and yes, correct grammar—we honor them.

National Grammar Day isn’t just for English teachers clutching their red pens. It’s for every genealogist who wants their family history writing to be worthy of the families they’re documenting.

Now march forth. Your semicolons need supervision.

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Author’s Note: I want to be transparent that this content – National Grammar Day: Because “Died Intestate” Is Not a Cause of Death (And Other Genealogy Writing Sins) – was created in part with the help of artificial intelligence (AI) language models– Claude Sonnet 5.6 and Gemini Pro 3. The AI assisted in generating an early draft of the content, but every paragraph was subsequently reviewed, edited, and refined by me. The final content is the result of extensive human curation and creativity. I am proud to present this work and assure readers that while AI was a tool in the process, the story, style, and substance have been carefully shaped by the author.