The McCarthys
Thursday October 20
First thing in the morning, I sit down with Mary and her daughter Katie and record as much information as I can on the Martin family. I also get information on my Grandmother’s sister Lena McCarthy O’Neill who did not have any children. Mary has kept the funeral cards of all the older relatives.
Shortly after noon, Mary and I get in the car and I drive to Ballyferode in Glenroe. This is land that was owned my Grandmother’s brother David. David also went to America although not at the same time as my Grandmother, Great-Aunt Mary and Great-Uncle George. The family story is that fellow travelers reported David cried with homesickness the entire six weeks over by ship. He soon sent back word that he wanted to return. My Great-Grandmother collected money from the family and sent David a ticket home. He then bought 27 acres of land and built the house my father visited in 1946. The land has since been subdivided and homes were built by his son David. We are going to the son’s home and near by are the homes of David’s children and several nieces and nephews – all buildings built by David. The younger David himself left Ireland for a period – going to England to build houses – and then returned to his family’s property.
We sit with David, his wife, one of his daughters and a nephew – also David. I hear stories of my father’s visit. My cousin Timmy Cronin (who was later best man at my mother and father’s wedding) was also on leave visiting his Cronin relations that Christmas and bicycled over from a nearby town. I see photographs of Dad in uniform and of my Great-Uncle David’s family.
The nephew David’s mother (the older David’s sister) has passed away and his father is in a nursing home. He has never married. He has been doing research on his branch of the family and shows me his notes. He will send a copy to me when he finishes and I will send him copies of what I have.
We have a grand traditional meal. The one thing I find odd is that the pitcher in the middle of the table contains not sparkling water, but 7-up. I have noticed that 7-up is a popular drink here and tend to recall that it was something my Grandmother had in the fridge also. I have also noticed that ice is not frequently used here and when it is it is only a few cubes.
After lunch we spend some time in a memory room they created a few years back. The walls are lined with old photographs and drums from the pipe and drum band David had long ago hang from the ceiling. They tell me they will make copies of some of photos and mail them to me.
We then get into two cars and drive down the lane to David’s late father’s house. This is where he grew up and where my father stayed when he was in Limerick. Then it is off to Curraghtuk in Ballylanders – where my Grandmother was from.
We stop at the home of Maureen (McCarthy) Kelly – the daughter of one of my grandmother’s younger brothers. They own the McCarthy land now.
They bring us to the site of Martin home (my great great grand parents and no close relation to my cousin Mary Martin’s late husband). All that remains are stones that form the rough outline of the cottage. In a touching moment David takes out his bagpipes and plays. He says that he knows that his father and grandfather played the pipes in the doorway of the house that once stood here and that he had always wanted to continue that tradition. When he heard that I was coming and arranged for us to visit the site he decided this would be the day.
We then traveled a bit further down the lane to the house Mary Anne and John McCarthy built. The thatch roof has been replaced by slate. Although occupied not too long ago, it is in need of maintenance, but its thick walls seem as solid as when it was built well over 100 years ago.
Back at Maureen’s home there is more food and more tea. She shows us George Martin’s will. It is dated 1908 in and is in wonderful condition. It leaves the 28 acres and other items in trust to Mary Anne McCarthy (his daughter) or David McCarthy (her oldest son). Several things catch my eye.
First, Mary is listed as a widow. In 1908 the oldest of this single mother’s eight children would have been 20 and the youngest 9. I seemed to recall that my grandmother and her younger sister and brother had left Ireland in 1910 or perhaps 1908 – this always perplexed me. If it were the earlier date, she would have only been 19 years old, George only 18 and Mary only 17. Now knowing that her mother was a widow with all these young children at home, it is more understandable that they might have left to relieve the burden on their mother and hopefully send back money from America. Having only once left New England, when I traveled to Georgia to go college just shy of my 18th birthday, it was a bit scary. It is hard to imagine the courage it took to start a 6 week sea journey to a new world at this age – knowing that it was unlikely you would ever be able to return. When my mother died when I was 25 and I became guardian of three of my teenage siblings that was difficult. What was it like for Ita at 19 with two younger siblings in tow?
Second, the will includes references to close relatives named Twoomy and Cassidy who had gone to America. At the Martin Farm, the descriptions on the back of the photographs of the family gatherings included those names saying that we were at their house in Concord, MA. So more of the pieces fit together. A copy of the Will is to be sent with the copies of the photographs.
We stop by Mary’s brother Patrick’s house. He was just released from the hospital that day and is puffy. He is glad however to have gotten out in time to meet me. I have a good conversation with his son Liam, an engineer who is trying to develop an online sales internet site.
There is still the get together at a Hotel in Michelstown tonight. We return to the Knockanbrack to prepare. I meet Mary’s son Patrick, his wife and two year old son. Mary is tired and asks Willie to go with me this evening. We head out at 9:00 and arrive at about 9:30. A small group is waiting for us – those we had dinner with earlier and a few more. I am stunned when over the next hour over 20 more people come in to introduce themselves to me. I am welcomed “home” by all. I sit and chat with several of the small groups that form and listen to the stories. It sounds as if my father’s and later my Uncle’s visits have been talked of with relative frequency over the past 58 years. And there was sadness when my grandmother died in 1975 and communication was lost. I am asked if anyone in the family still lives at 87 Alder Street – an address well remembered by many. The younger folks report asking their parents if they know the whereabouts of their relatives in America and are very happy that I made the effort to reconnect – “it is more than we have done.” All these people have on short notice turned out to meet me and I am honored, humbled and grateful – and I am told that many more wanted to come but could not . . . this time. I am also happy that I have clearly been a catalyst for many of them to reconnect with relatives that (like at home) they only tend to see at funerals.
Many encourage me to “return with my family in the summer when the weather is good,” and to “bring my sisters along.” A number tell me that they would be happy to have us stay with them if we don’t wish to stay at a hotel or especially if that would make it possible for us to come home sooner – that between the cousins they were sure there was room for all.
It is a wonderful and overwhelming night that ends after 1:00 am only because the hotel has turned many of the lights in the lounge off in an effort to close up – otherwise the conversations could have continued for hours more. As my Dad would say, “these are good people.”
First thing in the morning, I sit down with Mary and her daughter Katie and record as much information as I can on the Martin family. I also get information on my Grandmother’s sister Lena McCarthy O’Neill who did not have any children. Mary has kept the funeral cards of all the older relatives.
Shortly after noon, Mary and I get in the car and I drive to Ballyferode in Glenroe. This is land that was owned my Grandmother’s brother David. David also went to America although not at the same time as my Grandmother, Great-Aunt Mary and Great-Uncle George. The family story is that fellow travelers reported David cried with homesickness the entire six weeks over by ship. He soon sent back word that he wanted to return. My Great-Grandmother collected money from the family and sent David a ticket home. He then bought 27 acres of land and built the house my father visited in 1946. The land has since been subdivided and homes were built by his son David. We are going to the son’s home and near by are the homes of David’s children and several nieces and nephews – all buildings built by David. The younger David himself left Ireland for a period – going to England to build houses – and then returned to his family’s property.
We sit with David, his wife, one of his daughters and a nephew – also David. I hear stories of my father’s visit. My cousin Timmy Cronin (who was later best man at my mother and father’s wedding) was also on leave visiting his Cronin relations that Christmas and bicycled over from a nearby town. I see photographs of Dad in uniform and of my Great-Uncle David’s family.
The nephew David’s mother (the older David’s sister) has passed away and his father is in a nursing home. He has never married. He has been doing research on his branch of the family and shows me his notes. He will send a copy to me when he finishes and I will send him copies of what I have.
We have a grand traditional meal. The one thing I find odd is that the pitcher in the middle of the table contains not sparkling water, but 7-up. I have noticed that 7-up is a popular drink here and tend to recall that it was something my Grandmother had in the fridge also. I have also noticed that ice is not frequently used here and when it is it is only a few cubes.
After lunch we spend some time in a memory room they created a few years back. The walls are lined with old photographs and drums from the pipe and drum band David had long ago hang from the ceiling. They tell me they will make copies of some of photos and mail them to me.
We then get into two cars and drive down the lane to David’s late father’s house. This is where he grew up and where my father stayed when he was in Limerick. Then it is off to Curraghtuk in Ballylanders – where my Grandmother was from.
We stop at the home of Maureen (McCarthy) Kelly – the daughter of one of my grandmother’s younger brothers. They own the McCarthy land now.
They bring us to the site of Martin home (my great great grand parents and no close relation to my cousin Mary Martin’s late husband). All that remains are stones that form the rough outline of the cottage. In a touching moment David takes out his bagpipes and plays. He says that he knows that his father and grandfather played the pipes in the doorway of the house that once stood here and that he had always wanted to continue that tradition. When he heard that I was coming and arranged for us to visit the site he decided this would be the day.
We then traveled a bit further down the lane to the house Mary Anne and John McCarthy built. The thatch roof has been replaced by slate. Although occupied not too long ago, it is in need of maintenance, but its thick walls seem as solid as when it was built well over 100 years ago.
Back at Maureen’s home there is more food and more tea. She shows us George Martin’s will. It is dated 1908 in and is in wonderful condition. It leaves the 28 acres and other items in trust to Mary Anne McCarthy (his daughter) or David McCarthy (her oldest son). Several things catch my eye.
First, Mary is listed as a widow. In 1908 the oldest of this single mother’s eight children would have been 20 and the youngest 9. I seemed to recall that my grandmother and her younger sister and brother had left Ireland in 1910 or perhaps 1908 – this always perplexed me. If it were the earlier date, she would have only been 19 years old, George only 18 and Mary only 17. Now knowing that her mother was a widow with all these young children at home, it is more understandable that they might have left to relieve the burden on their mother and hopefully send back money from America. Having only once left New England, when I traveled to Georgia to go college just shy of my 18th birthday, it was a bit scary. It is hard to imagine the courage it took to start a 6 week sea journey to a new world at this age – knowing that it was unlikely you would ever be able to return. When my mother died when I was 25 and I became guardian of three of my teenage siblings that was difficult. What was it like for Ita at 19 with two younger siblings in tow?
Second, the will includes references to close relatives named Twoomy and Cassidy who had gone to America. At the Martin Farm, the descriptions on the back of the photographs of the family gatherings included those names saying that we were at their house in Concord, MA. So more of the pieces fit together. A copy of the Will is to be sent with the copies of the photographs.
We stop by Mary’s brother Patrick’s house. He was just released from the hospital that day and is puffy. He is glad however to have gotten out in time to meet me. I have a good conversation with his son Liam, an engineer who is trying to develop an online sales internet site.
There is still the get together at a Hotel in Michelstown tonight. We return to the Knockanbrack to prepare. I meet Mary’s son Patrick, his wife and two year old son. Mary is tired and asks Willie to go with me this evening. We head out at 9:00 and arrive at about 9:30. A small group is waiting for us – those we had dinner with earlier and a few more. I am stunned when over the next hour over 20 more people come in to introduce themselves to me. I am welcomed “home” by all. I sit and chat with several of the small groups that form and listen to the stories. It sounds as if my father’s and later my Uncle’s visits have been talked of with relative frequency over the past 58 years. And there was sadness when my grandmother died in 1975 and communication was lost. I am asked if anyone in the family still lives at 87 Alder Street – an address well remembered by many. The younger folks report asking their parents if they know the whereabouts of their relatives in America and are very happy that I made the effort to reconnect – “it is more than we have done.” All these people have on short notice turned out to meet me and I am honored, humbled and grateful – and I am told that many more wanted to come but could not . . . this time. I am also happy that I have clearly been a catalyst for many of them to reconnect with relatives that (like at home) they only tend to see at funerals.
Many encourage me to “return with my family in the summer when the weather is good,” and to “bring my sisters along.” A number tell me that they would be happy to have us stay with them if we don’t wish to stay at a hotel or especially if that would make it possible for us to come home sooner – that between the cousins they were sure there was room for all.
It is a wonderful and overwhelming night that ends after 1:00 am only because the hotel has turned many of the lights in the lounge off in an effort to close up – otherwise the conversations could have continued for hours more. As my Dad would say, “these are good people.”
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