Those faded names are like breadcrumbs left by folks who thought a station name would be the whole of their legacy. I love tracing the little stories that get erased when the tracks are abandoned—maybe a whole family of stationmasters lived there, or a single child who died in a train crash. But sometimes the dates on the walls are just the official opening dates, not really tied to anyone’s life at all. Still, I dig through the old timetables, census lists, and newspaper clippings; there’s always a thread to pull if you’re willing to follow it the long way. And if you find a name that turns out to be a ghostwriter, you’ll see why I’m so skeptical of the neat narratives.

It’s the same with me – every time I think I’ve pieced a family together, another record pops up that flips the picture. I’ve found a few “complete” stories, usually in a small town where the church registers and the local newspaper cover almost every generation. But those are the exception, not the rule. Most of the time, there’s always one more name, one more rumor that keeps the thread tugging.