By Heather Green, Visitor Services and Programs Manager at Rose Hill Mansion & Johnston House
For the 250th Celebration of the United States of America, Historic Geneva will be using a couple themes to guide our celebrations. One of the themes we will be focusing on this year is “Doing History,” which dovetails nicely with my research into the families of Rose Hill and Johnston House. To learn about the families, I am reading books, newspaper articles, letters and journals – anything I can find about the people who called these buildings home.
While going through journals and letters, I am delighted by the details they left for us in these writings. Looking through journals is a great way to learn about the everyday lives of people in the past.
Have you ever kept a journal? If (like me) you think it would be a great idea, but that you have nothing exciting to write about, I want to introduce you to Robert Swan’s journal.
The one I am reading is from the time he arrived at the house of John Johnston to learn farming. He wrote about arriving, meeting the Johnstons, and about the work he did every day.
It is filled with all the exciting work that farmers do. On August 3, 1848, Robert reported he helped John Johnston thrash wheat. And, again, on August 4. Then a third day in a row, he writes they thrashed wheat until the machine broke. After taking a break on Sunday, they were back at it again on Monday.

I have never thrashed (or even threshed) wheat, so can only imagine how exhausting and dirty a job it must be. However, I do know that if I were keeping a journal, I would not think that recording the same chore four days in a row would be worthwhile.
Yet, almost 200 years later, the words are fascinating and teach me about his life.
Robert records visits from neighbors and letters from family. He writes about trips to Geneva and Seneca Falls. He notes his daily farm work. Some days he writes only one sentence: “I ploughed all today” (August 31, 1848). Some days he writes more. His entries are never longer than a paragraph, but they tell of the everyday lives of Robert, the Johnstons, and other community members.
On August 8, “In the afternoon Mr J. & myself went to Geneva … No letter from home”
A few days later, finally a letter from family: “Had a visit in the evening from Mr Talmage Delafield. Also received a letter from Frederick.”
I admit to a bit of hypocrisy when it comes to journaling, which only changed after being inducted into the world of social media. Whenever I had a new journal, I wanted to make sure whatever I wrote was particularly noteworthy. This idea caried over into social media, which meant, of course, that I barely wrote anything.
Meanwhile, one friend posted photos of dinner: a simple home-cooked meal that was just one in a long line of home-cooked meals.
Someone else complained about traffic and posted a photo of relaxing by a hot tub at the end of a frustrating day.
There was a video of a child’s band concert and ramblings from someone’s walk through their neighborhood. Not what history normally considers momentous. I scrolled quickly past tales of pork chops and chickadees, looking for …. what? What qualifies as momentous? Work promotions? Birth announcements? Publishing a book?
Through the daily onslaught of social media posts, I continued to research history, scrounging through books, letters, and journals looking for anything to tell me how people lived 200 years ago. Or 500. Searching for a book to tell me how people brushed their teeth or which foods were most often on the tables of everyday people. I wanted to learn things that the records of momentous historical events (wars, royal family lines, the invention of the printing press, etc.) don’t tell us.
Finally, it occurred to me that I was seeking journals written by everyday people in the past while disdaining the everyday record of my own community. These people were writing down their history, photographing their casseroles (complete with cookbook reference and recipe!), recording their children’s orchestra concerts, documenting their daily thoughts and conversations with neighbors.
Like Robert Swan, leaving a record of everyday life.
By writing down their thoughts and actions, both Robert Swan and my neighbors were doing history: leaving behind a record that would tell their descendants (and others) about their lives.
Sometimes I wonder if Robert Swan thought about people reading his journals 200 years after he wrote them. What was his purpose? Was it for himself or for others? Whatever his reason, I am thankful he did.
Noting daily details is only the start of “doing history,” of course, while preserving them is quite another – but that is a post for another day. It is enough to begin doing history by seeing our lives as something worth remembering. When you think about leaving a record behind, never discount that your life – the one you live right now – is worth recording and worth reading about.
From about out 250th commemoration activities, visit our calendar of events and current exhibits page.
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One Response
So happy to hear you are enjoying learning about the Swan and Johnston’s families! And you are so right on the value of keeping a journal filled with the minutia of everyday life.