I’m wondering what else I can do with my research.
I was asked to rate a Wikipedia entry last evening. I’m checking Wikipedia all the time and such a thing as a pop-up asking me to contribute just because I logged on and looked something up at the same time … well, it’s never happened before.
Wikipedia, “fun with Dictionary,” chasing etymologies of words after I find out how to spell them, searching my way deep into old, old books that’re out of print but saved for posterity by Google Books. Heck, I’ve even mucked around in the old stable of Medieval Scots word finders. Seems I’m into one reference resource or another every couple of hours through my day. But the only online source that’s asked me to rate their work is Wikipedia.
That’s kind of ‘special’.
“Ah, the benefits of membership,” I thought for the heartbeat it took to realize that I wasn’t actually signed in, just then, and that as far as Wikipedia is concerned, I was just Joe Blow.
“Well! That’s even kind of neater. The collective is really serious about stepping up the feedback loop.”
And then it occurred to me that, apart from correcting one village reference from an Irish location to the proper Scotland place in an obscure Wikipedia article, I haven’t originated a single Wikipedia entry or joined in expanding upon others’ contributions since I signed up and logged on, now some years ago. In other words, I haven’t put my “contributor” status to use at all.
In fact, I haven’t been a contributing citizen of the Wiki World wherever I’ve found it, even though I was anxious to be an “early adopter” of the idea of contributory history … the “new paradigm” of collective Master Narrative writing.
Perhaps I need to see a self interest in throwing stuff out into the “edited” noosphere of the logged, dated, annotated histories. And in so doing, expose myself to the nit-picking maelstrom criticism that comes with positing an observation — always imperfectly researched, thought out, or expressed — into the popular draft of our Master Narrative of History.
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Be that as it may, the other day I was wondering to myself if there is a market for some sort of history of pre-Reformation Scots law practice. Maybe something “humanized” by an heroic Templeton at the center of the story about the development of the modern profession of “lawyer.” Or, maybe using an ancestor as the subject of a landmark case. (I’m thinking Roger Tempiltoun or Andro Tempilton that was Maxwell’s capo who was the central figure in a case that went a way towards establishing the authority of the central government’s court and law [the King’s Court] over the common usurpation of legality by thugs of local Lairds, back a few generations before Roger came onto Edinburgh’s legal scene.)
Oh, yes, there’s stories to be told, there, but I’m not sure I’m up to the bullet-proof research needed to make it more than an interesting (to some, I hope) anecdote.
Another message in a bottle tossed into the Web cloud
Rummaging through the Lord High Treasurer’s records from the 1st half of the 16th century I came across an interesting fillip. Seems that Old Man Templeton that ran the soume (pack) horses for the king was brought on the books as “Tempilman” and switched over to “Tempeltoun” after a couple of years on the job. I then found a David Tempilman being used as a favored letter & message carrier by the king over the years of 1504 through 1507 (at least). I’m wondering if there’s any connection to be found between David and Old Man Tempeltoun (or ‘Tempilman’?). Or, more intriguing, if David Tempilman, King’s man, was linked to David Templeton, Sergeant pro tem of Irvine in 1499?
So I went on to the “Templeman” discussion thread on RootsWeb.com and threw my question to the board. A message in a bottle. We’ll see if anyone has linked back that far or taken an interest in the history of their name.
