Sometimes we find long-lost relatives through essentially simple, but at the same time, roundabout ways. A case in point is my discovery of a third cousin, the great-granddaughter of Henry Heiman. Henry was the brother of my great-grandmother, and I had always heard that he was well known in the town of Dover, New Jersey, perhaps having been mayor at one time. Henry had died in 1937, and for many years I had tried without success to locate his descendants.

The first break in cracking this case came when I learned that my temple in Denver, Colorado, had hired a new rabbi—from Dover, New Jersey. I went to services the next week and, during the Oneg Shabbat (festivity after Sabbath service), asked our new rabbi if he could think of anyone in Dover who might know of Henry Heiman’s family. Suggesting that I telephone him at his office later, the rabbi gave me the names of two lifelong Dover residents whom he thought might be able to help.

The first woman to whom I spoke did not know the Heimans, but encouraged me to call the other family. In those days, it took me a while to get up the courage to make such calls, but eventually I did. The woman who answered interrogated me on how and why I thought I was related to Henry Heiman. After I explained the connection, she apologized and explained that Henry Heiman had been very prominent in Dover and that someone from Europe had inquired about him in the past—and she thought he had been after money from Henry’s estate. Satisfied that I was not seeking money, she give me the name and Massachusetts address of Henry’s great-grandaughter, Dorna, and explained that her mother-in-law had been a good friend of Henry Heiman. She also drew and sent me a map of the Heiman family cemetery plot in Dover, a cemetery that Henry Heiman himself had started.

I wrote a letter to the address the woman provided, but receiving no answer, assumed that Dorna was not interested in finding family. Months later, I was surprised to receive an e-mail message and a Heiman family photograph from a man who identified himself as Dorna’s nephew, the son of her half-brother. He explained that my letter had gone to an old address for Dorna, and when the current owner received it, he had asked his neighbor if he had ever heard of Dorna. The neighbor knew Dorna’s half-brother Leo, who lived in Barrington, Rhode Island, and forwarded the letter to him.

The nephew explained that his father had not heard from Dorna in years, that she was divorced, and he thought she was living in California. That seemed to be the end of this trail. In the meantime, Dorna traveled East to attend a wedding in Barrington. As she was walking down the street, she saw a policeman whom she thought was her nephew, Leo’s son, Harold. She approached him and, in fact, he was her nephew. They embraced and he took her home to see his father, who was thrilled to see Dorna after all these years. He gave her my letter which he had kept.

Dorna telephoned on a Saturday morning about a year after I wrote the letter. She was crying. She told me that her mother always said that they didn’t have any relatives beyond the immediate family. I replied that she had lots of family—well over 100 cousins.

Dorna and I met not long afterward. She has all of Henry Heiman’s antique furniture in her home and supplied me with many photographs of the family. Dorna, the only living great-grandchild of the Henry Heiman family, is not alone anymore. She has met some of our mutual cousins and invited them to her home. We plan to get together again the next time I visit California.

You Can Find Family Anywhere

M

y daughter always says, “My mom can find cousins anywhere!” I guess that may be true. One Yom Kippur I was in shul (synagogue). As the yizkor (memorial) service began, I glanced over the list of names in the yizkor book that the synagogue published for the holiday.

It seems to be a hobby of mine to always look at names (as probably it is with all genealogists). All of a sudden, I saw the name of Margaret Gerring. She was my mother’s first cousin. I said to my daughter, “That’s Grandma’s first cousin from New York” right there in the yizkor book. Alongside her name were names of family members who had listed her as their grandmother and great-grandmother. The submitter was Mark Shulman, grandson of Margaret—and my third cousin. By then the service had ended, and everyone else had gone home until the Neilah service. I was very excited and could not wait to go home and look in my mother’s old address book to see if this Mark Shulman could possibly be the right one. He was.

I returned for the Neilah service and immediately asked someone to point out Mark Shulman. I hadn’t seen Mark since he was a little boy when we both lived in Coney Island, New York. He was at the other side of the room with his wife and two children. I went up to him and said, “Hello, I believe that you and I are cousins.” Mark responded, “What makes you think that?” “Because your great-grandmother, Carrie, and my grandfather, Isaac (Ike), were sister and brother.”

Then Mark did a very nice thing. He gave me a big hug and introduced me to his wife and children. In turn, I introduced him to my family. Later, I invited Mark and his family and our other cousins living here in Denver to my home for dinner and to meet each other. It was wonderful.

The following summer Mark’s mom, Lorraine, and his dad, Joe, along with Lorraine’s’ sister Delores came to Denver, and we had a good time with them. Back in the old days we were all cousins who lived just one block away from each other in Coney Island, and we shared loads of memories at our reunion.

Sandra A. Greenberg is a professional researcher and a member of the Association of Professional Genealogists. She is the co-founder and past president of the Jewish Genealogical Society of Colorado and currently serves as its librarian. Greenberg has been researching her own family for the past 30 years and is familiar with Colorado as well as New York research.