"...to seek and to find the past, a lineage, a history, a family built on a flesh and bone foundation."

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Best wishes to you and yours as you ring in the New Year

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
   The flying cloud, the frosty light:
   The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
   The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
For those that here we see no more;
   Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
   And ancient forms of party strife;
   Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
   The faithless coldness of the times;
   Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
   The civic slander and the spite;
   Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
   Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
   Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

These lines, taken from Alfred, Lord Tennyson's 'Ring Out, Wild Bells',  a part of the elegy 'In Memoriam' written for Arthur Henry Hallam, seem fitting to mark the turning of this year into the next.

May the New Year bring health, wealth and happiness to each one of you and your families.

Cheers,
Jennifer

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Happy Christmas to you and yours!


May all the joys of the season come to you and your family on this Christmas Day, 
and may the world enjoy a peaceful and happy new year.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Wednesday's Child: 'We had another brother, didn't we?'


This is the photograph, the only one, with my mother's older brothers, Anthony, Gerard, and Patrick, and her parents, a photograph taken years before my mom was born. On my grandmother Mary Fitzpatrick Ball's knee is seated a tiny fragile looking baby, his eyes almost shut, my grandmother's hands enveloped around him. My mom could identify all of the children in the photograph, save one, this tiny baby seated on her mother's knee. Mom knew it could not be her baby brother John, but she could not name the child.

Sometime in the years after her mother died, my mother found and kept this photograph tucked away in her own little drawer in the cupboard which held her clothes and those of her sisters. Every once in a while, after her chores were finished, and she could take a couple of private minutes, she would take out the portrait from the place which kept it safe from prying eyes. Mom would take it out and stare at it. Sometimes she would kneel at the side of her bed to say prayers with the photograph propped against a soft blanket, so it wouldn't get damaged. She would gaze into her mother's face, and she would pray. Mom said she wasn't sure why she would do this, but perhaps it was the only way she could be sure of never forgetting her mother's face.

When my parents emigrated from Ireland to Canada, the portrait travelled with my mom. Whenever there was any discussion of the photograph, one of my mother's sisters would say that she was the small baby pictured, but inexplicably my mom always disagreed. In 1994, at a cousin's wedding in Dublin, all of the siblings were seated around one large table at the reception. It had been a very long time since all seven of them were together in the same room. Over dinner they spent a lot of time talking about their childhood with their dad, and Aunt Alice. My mom finally asked her older brothers the question she had long wished to ask, "We had another brother, didn't we?". Mom mentioned the photograph and the baby their mother was holding, and she asked her elder brothers if they knew who the child was. Anthony, Gerard, and Patrick instantly knew the photograph to which Mom was referring. They explained that the baby's name was Thomas, and said he had died when he was young baby. Beyond that they shared little of their recollections of him. There were several guesses at the date of the photograph, but no one knew for certain when it had been taken.

Based on the apparent ages of the boys in the photograph, and the clothing my grandparents are wearing, I surmised that it had been taken in the late 1920s. With the image of that tiny little boy locked in my brain, I searched for a late 1920s record of Thomas's birth in the General Register Office in Dublin, and discovered Thomas was born 27 October 1927. 

Knowing he had died very young, I limited my search parameters and found his record of death within the books of the very next year. Baby Thomas Christopher Ball died in St. Ultan's hospital on 18 September 1928. The registrar's notation of the fraction of 10 3/4 over 12 for Thomas's age emphasizes the fact that Thomas almost made it to eleven months of age, but did not live for even one whole year. For the last 23 days of his life Thomas was very sick; he died of Chronic Enteritis and Cardiac failure. Thomas is interred in the St. Paul's section of Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin.

Now, when I look at the photograph, I wonder, as she held her tiny son on her knee that day, did my grandmother in any way sense that Thomas would not be with their family for very long?

(see: Anointed with tears: One man's recollection of the long ago loss of a brother)

Copyright©J.Geraghty-Gorman 2011.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Wordless Wednesday, almost: Wild about Wilde

“I have nothing to declare except my genius.” — Oscar Wilde


Oscar Wilde is my favourite 19th century dramatist and wit, and since I'm wild about Wilde (sorry about that one), here are some pics of his Dublin family home, and the 'statue' erected to him which stands in Merrion Square.  There are two obelisks directly across the path from 'him' which are covered with witticisms famously attributed to Wilde, some of which I've included in the body of this post.  Enjoy!

1 Merrion Square, home of the Wildes from 1855 until 1878.  Now the Irish American University.
“There is no sin except stupidity.”


“I always pass on good advice.  It is the only thing to do with it.  It is never any use to oneself.”


“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”


“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”


“Who, being loved, is poor?”


“There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.”


Visit: 'Over thy dead body': to view the Wilde 'Family' Tomb in Mount Jerome Cemetery Dublin.
*Click on photographs to view larger version.
All photographs Copyright©J.Geraghty-Gorman 2011.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Remembrance Day: Today I remember for a friend who cannot


I have a friend, John, a friend with Alzheimer's, and today 'Lest We Forget' has special meaning for me, because I am remembering for my friend who cannot.

John has been a friend of my family for a very long time.  I first met him, through his daughter, when I was a teenager going to a new school in grade 13.  On the way to school, on the very first day, I noticed his daughter and I were walking in the same direction, down the same streets.  After a while we stopped and asked each other if we were headed to the same school.  His daughter had a familiar lilt in her voice, and on the way to school I learned that her family were recent emigrants from County Down, Ireland.  Later that day, on the walk home, John's daughter introduced me to her dad.  From that day we were friends.

Many years passed and, as sometimes happens, people lose touch.  Both John's daughter and I moved far away from our family homes, and from each other, but John and his wife Jean stayed close to my parents.  One year John's wife passed away; a couple of years later my own father died.  A friendship grew between John and my mom, a friendship my brother and I were very happy about.  John and Mom came to rely upon one another; they are best friends.  John and Mom happily share stories with one another about their spouses, about their lives in Ireland, about their world travels.  I love to talk to John about his family, and his life in Ireland and around the world.

John served in the British Merchant Marine, supplying military bases and ships around the Mediterranean, and not quite fulfilling his wish to 'see the world' before he settled down.  My mom always reminds him how lucky he was that Jean, the love of his life, was still waiting for him when he finally returned to Ireland.  John has a great sense of humour, and a very relaxed way about him, that makes him so easy to talk to. Talking to John is in some ways a little like having a dad once again.

But...

My friend John has Alzheimer's disease, and so there are times when he no longer knows who I am.

Sometimes he thinks I'm a neighbour who lives in his village in County Down, and he asks me if my husband and I are going to go dancing on Saturday night.  I always answer yes, because if I could travel back in time with my friend John, that is exactly what we would do.

Occasionally he'll say he needs to get ready to leave the house, to take the train into Belfast for a football match.  I ask him if instead he'll stay awhile and tell me more about his brothers, and to my relief he does.  I don't want him to open the door and discover that Belfast, and the football match, are a million miles away from here.

All of John's siblings are dead; all taken by Alzheimer's disease.  It is a truth too cruel to contemplate.  Although they are all gone, they live in that part of John's memory which is still very much alive, and he tells me about them.  It is as though we could walk down through the village at any moment and meet them.

My mom tells me that each time I visit with John, after I leave, he comments that I am 'a nice lady', and then more often than not, he asks her who I am.

During World War Two, John lost friends on the battlefields of Europe, young men who left the village, never to return. Today, on this Remembrance Day, I am remembering them for my friend John.


Copyright©J.Geraghty-Gorman 2011.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Wordless Wednesday, almost: As mom always said, 'Don't run on the ruins'

Within this week of Remembrance, I thought I'd go for a little levity today with a couple of signs I've come across in Dublin that remind me just how ancient a place it is.  I hope they bring a smile to your face.

Note the Chapter House dates 1163 to 1537 A.D.
To put it in perspective, the Choir School was founded 60 years before Columbus set sail for the Americas.

Click on photos to view larger version.
All Photographs Copyright©J.Geraghty-Gorman 2011.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Wordless Wednesday, almost: A little more London

On this almost Wordless Wednesday, a little more London.  Directly across the road from the Palace of Westminster stands Westminster Abbey.   Those who are fans of Wills and Kate, sorry that's Prince William and Princess Catherine, will recognize the Abbey as the site of their wedding in April 2011.  Unfortunately photography is strictly forbidden in the interior of the abbey, still the outside is certainly something to behold.

An abbey has stood on this site since the year 960.  There are over 3300 people interred within the walls of the abbey, including kings and queens, the famous and the infamous.  It is a most extraordinary sight. You must step lightly, because in any given space you may be walking on the grave of a poet or a patriot.  I discovered the grave of my favourite 17th century poet, Aphra Behn, in the hallway floor of the Cloisters.   Many people tread upon it without even noticing.
Mrs. Aphra Behn
Dyed April 16
A.D. 1689
'Here lies a Proof that Wit can never be
Defence enough against Mortality'.
In addition to being a tourist sight, with a £16 GBP ($25 USD) entrance fee, the abbey is a living church with services often going on as the tourists wander through it.  Please visit their official website for more information, and to have a look inside.

The Abbey from the perspective of the Palace of Westminister
The Main Entrance together with grounds filled with tourists
St. Margaret's Church on the left, better known as the church of the House of Commons.
The Cloisters - green space within the heart of the Abbey grounds.
An important remembrance on the grounds near the west door of the Abbey.
An invocation for all, on the wall near the west door.

Click on photographs to view a larger version.
All Photographs Copyright©J.Geraghty-Gorman 2011.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Wordless Wednesday, not quite: The Spirit of Ireland

When I returned from Ireland in September my plan had been to get straight back into blogging and share some of the discoveries I made on my trip.  Of course, the universe has a funny way of reacting to the best laid plans.  Sometimes the less desirable side of life jumps in and you find yourself dealing with something that doesn't fit into those plans.

Anyway...the train is now almost entirely back on the rails, and with today's post I am ready to begin anew.

The Spirit of Ireland

The Spirit of Ireland is the spirit of her people. No matter how beautiful the landscape, in my opinion, it is the spirit of the Irish people which enhances that beauty. Irish spirit comes in all shapes and sizes, and that spirit is imbued with the power of positive energy. I truly believe this is what draws me back to Ireland again and again. Here are some of the ways in which the spirit of Ireland have manifested for me.  I hope they bring a smile to your face.

For the first nine days I was away, I was very fortunate to have my husband with me. On one particular day we happily spent hours traipsing through Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin and St. Colmcille's Churchyard in Swords, County Dublin.  Near the end of the day, (it was getting dark so I could no longer photograph gravestones), we stopped for supper at the Star Pub at the end of Chapel Lane at Main Street in Swords.  By chance, we happened to choose the very pub in which the Swords Historical Society were celebrating the launch of the latest edition of their periodical 'Swords Voices'.  I was happy to be able to introduce my husband to Bernadette Martin. In 2010, Bernadette helped to confirm for me some connections in the maternal branch of my family tree.  Music often forms a part of celebrations in Ireland, and the Historical Society celebration was no exception. The Historical Society has their own Mummers group. Here is a small sampling of their performance (by the way, the man on the left is playing castanets):



When I headed out to Westport, County Mayo in the west of Ireland, on the train trip back from there, at Athlone station this group of men boarded the train. They were headed into Dublin for the European Championship Football Qualifier, Ireland vs. Slovakia, at Lansdowne (Aviva) Stadium, and they kindly agreed to pose for me.  I think it's safe to say they're football super fans.


On Grafton Street in Dublin you will see buskers of all kinds, such as musicians, singers, magicians, and a few fellows such as this one posing as a statue. He was so convincing even a pigeon was fooled.


In St. Stephen's Green I met a new little friend, and her dad allowed me to photograph her engaging in her favourite pastime of feeding the birds. Contrary to popular belief, the streets of Dublin are not filled with red-haired beauties, so I just had to photograph this little one.


Click on photographs to view larger version.
All materials Copyright©J.Geraghty-Gorman 2011.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Packing my bags and heading 'home'

As I prepare for my annual research trip to Ireland, things have been a bit "off" lately in terms of blogging on a regular basis.  I have not been posting as much as usual, due to the amount of work I have been doing in preparation for my trip. Also I have been taking time to reflect on my work as an historian, thinking about where I am and where I want to be.

Each year a research trip for me means a combination of family history research and research for my work as an historian.  Given that there are only 24 hours in a day, and I really do need to sleep for at least a few of those hours, something's got to give, and unfortunately that may mean blogging suffers.

However...

I hope you'll be patient with me.  My plan is to return with a lot of great discoveries, both in terms of family history and Irish history, and hopefully a lot of photographs to go along with those discoveries.  This time around, in addition to research in the usual Irish haunts, I will be going over to London and the National Archives U.K..  They have approximately 25 boxes of files with material which is applicable to my history work, and which I am hoping contain at least a few wonderful finds.  Fingers crossed.

In Ireland, at times, I will be away from the capital of Dublin, and so I am uncertain of my ability to regularly access internet connectivity. In the past this has proved to be an interesting challenge in some of the less populated areas of the country.  I will try my best to post when I am in Dublin.  I will be returning home the third week of September, sleeping off the jet lag, and then putting my nose to the grindstone in terms of getting back to work, and getting back to blogging.



On 19 October, through Legacy Family Tree, I will be presenting a webinar entitled,

'Ah hold your whisht, and tell me the true story': Uncovering Your Irish Family History.

If you are interested in Irish family history research, I hope that you will join me for it.

As always, I wish you much good luck with your own family history research.

Until we 'meet' again,

Jennifer

Monday, July 25, 2011

'Cycling Apparitions in the Castle Ruins': An Irish Story

Last July I first shared this story, recounted to me many times by my father when I was a child.  I hope that those of you who read it last summer will enjoy revisiting the tale, and for those to whom it is new, I hope it brings a smile to your face.

When my dad was a young man growing up in Ireland he was an avid cyclist, and he spent every spare penny he had on the maintenance of his bicycles.  When he was able to take a holiday from work, he and his friends would cycle around the country. Together they navigated the entire Republic of Ireland.  They were very well prepared, carrying with them sleeping bags and a primus stove for cooking, together with a neatly compact kit of cooking implements, some food, candles, and torches (a kind of flashlight) for night lighting.

Each day the travelling group would go as far as the wind and their legs would carry them.  Overnight accommodations were arranged as they went.  Their fellow countrymen were very helpful and very welcoming.  Many nights they found themselves sleeping in the hayloft of an accommodating farm in exchange for helping out a little the next day.  After such nights they were usually greeted with a delicious breakfast of fresh eggs, sausages, bacon, and coffee so strong "it would grow hair on your chest", as my dad used to say.


On a trip up into Connemara they found themselves arriving in a small village too late at night to make any sort of sleeping arrangements.  They had cycled through the Twelve Bens, a mountain range which, while not exceptionally high, has roads so narrow and drops so steep that cycling through it is not for the faint of heart.  The weather had closed in on them, and visibility was very poor; they had to stop for a while before completing their journey through the mountains, thus the very late arrival at the village.

The weather was still a little unstable when they arrived, and not wanting to get drenched by an overnight rain while sleeping under the stars, they decided to seek shelter inside castle ruins one of the party had spotted in a field on the edge of the village.  They made their way through the field, gingerly stepping over 'cow pies', and trying to quiet the clatter of their bicycles so as not to unsettle the cows.  My dad loved the darkness of the night; he said it seemed as though there were a billion stars in the sky.


They arrived to discover the ruins of the castle were in good enough shape that they would be well sheltered for the night.  They pulled out their gear, lit candles, heated up the primus stove, and prepared a small meal over which they enjoyed animated conversation about their day's adventures.  They used the torches and candles to poke around a bit inside the ruins before finally extinguishing them and settling in for the night.

My dad said he had never slept so soundly.  They slept late into the morning and awakened fresh and ready to go into the village for a hearty meal before they once again set out on their bikes.

Along the road they met a shepherd moving a large flock of sheep down the road.  He directed them to a small pub where they could get a meal, and told them to avoid the castle ruins on their tour because during the night he had noticed strange lights in the castle keep.  He said he was worried that the angry ghost who used to haunt the place might be back.  The cycling party said nothing and proceeded to the pub.

They arrived to find the place in an uproar with a couple of villagers excitedly talking about strange lights seen in the castle ruins the previous night, how the lights moved around so much, how they were glowing for a while and then suddenly gone.  There was one "ole fella" (my dad's words) in particular who seemed to delight in regaling the group with stories about apparitions met and ghosts that had once haunted the ruins, and who wondered aloud what this reappearance might mean.

My father and his friends felt they should own up to the fact that it was them lighting up the ruins the previous night, and not an angry ghost; however, everyone seemed so excited about it that they just didn't have the heart to say anything.  The 'cycling apparitions' happily shared a meal with the villagers at the pub and continued on their journey.

Copyright ©J. Geraghty-Gorman 2010.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Wordless Wednesday, almost: A rainy afternoon in Dublin town

Scurrying across the Ha'penny Bridge
The Wellington Monument, Phoenix Park, liquified.
The Croppies Acre, fluidly. Collins Barracks in the background.
In the mist, the Clarence Hotel.
Click on photographs to view larger version.
All photographs Copyright© J.Geraghty-Gorman 2011.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Genealogy: a prime topic, especially in Ireland

Perhaps I have donned my rose-coloured glasses yet again, but honestly I cannot think of another country in the world in which the subject of genealogy would be a topic for discussion on the floor of the houses of government, but that is exactly what took place in the Dáil Éireann, earlier this week, on Wednesday, 22 June 2011.

Directly quoting from the Houses of the Oireachtas debate:

Deputy Tom Fleming asked the Minister for Arts, Heritage, and the Gaeltacht:

"if he will set up a central genealogy service to capitalise on the recent visit by President Obama in view of the fact that it would provide a comprehensive research facility to the Irish diaspora worldwide and contribute greatly to attract these persons to Ireland."

Jimmy Deenihan, the Minister for Arts, Heritage, and the Gaeltacht replied:

"My approach to genealogical services is to assist the two main national institutions involved in this area which are under the aegis of my Department, the National Archives and the National Library, to make available to the public the records of genealogical interest in their collections, online and free of charge, to gain the highest usage domestically and around the world."

Deputy Deenihan goes on to describe the other initiatives underway to ensure the greatest access of materials to the greatest number of people. He includes mention of http://www.irishgenealogy.ie/index.html, not currently my favourite site, given the snail's pace at which it is updated, but clearly a site which will be of great value once the work is complete.

Further, he makes reference to the fact that the release of the 1926 Census remains in legal limbo, but again, at least they are working on it. There is also discussion of creating a main web portal in order to draw together Irish genealogical web resources currently in use.

To read the entire debate visit The Houses of Oireachtas website debates page.

The significance of all of this is that the Irish government continues to recognize the importance of genealogy. Given the fact that it is good business to give people what they want, some will no doubt see this as a money grab, with the sole purpose of boosting tourism; however, as a researcher, I can only view it as a good thing.

Cheers to all, and Happy Hunting.

Jennifer

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

What does it mean to say "I am an Irish Citizen."?

Father: Irish Born, Irish Citizen
Mother: Irish Born, Irish Citizen
Brother: Irish Born, Irish Citizen
Me: Canadian Born, Irish Citizen?

Under Irish law, because it is the case that my mother and my father are Irish born, and were Irish citizens at the time of my birth, I am automatically an Irish citizen.

BUT...

What does it truly mean to say, "I am an Irish citizen"?

Strictly speaking, to be an Irish citizen means that I am a member of a political community, specifically the nation of the Republic of Ireland. With Irish citizenship come certain legal rights; for example, I am allowed to travel on an Irish passport. Ireland is a member of the European Union (EU); therefore, as an Irish citizen I am free to live and work in any member country of the EU. No residence or work permits are necessary for me. It all sounds very nice and uncomplicated; however, with rights come responsibilities, so what is required of me as an Irish citizen?

As an Irish citizen living outside of Ireland there is little required of me, at least in legal terms. I am not allowed to vote in Irish elections, nor am I allowed to be a jury member. I am an Irish citizen, but I am on the outside looking in. In some respects it appears as though the legal designation is a meaningless one; however, for me being a citizen of Ireland is more than just a legal or political designation. To be a citizen is to represent the country of Ireland in the best possible way. Perhaps this explains my tendency to "get my knickers in a knot" when I feel as though Irish research is being misrepresented.

A few years ago when I attended an Irish women's history conference, I had a discussion with a couple of Irish academics about the way in which Ireland is viewed by citizens living outside the country. In the case of my parents, and some other family members who had emigrated out of Ireland, it seemed to me as though their idea of Ireland was frozen in time, as if the country remained exactly as it was when they left it. It also appeared that over time their view of Ireland had changed. In their estimation it now seemed as though the country was a sort of dream-like place, a place without hardship or conflict, a place to look upon with only fond memories. I asked the academics if they thought that ex-patriot Irish could really understand what Ireland was like today. They said that they thought there might be a tendency to view the country through rose-coloured glasses. This certainly makes sense to me.

It seems to me as though to 'lose' a country, by emigrating, is almost like losing a loved one. When we look back over the life we shared with a now deceased family member, the troubles between us lose their edge and fade into the background. The happy times, and all that was good about that individual, come marching into the fore. Perhaps the same holds true for the immigrant when they are no longer "legally responsible" for the country of which they are a citizen. Perhaps an immigrant wants to remember, and to bring to their new country, only all the best of what they knew in their homeland.

In many ways I have taken on my parents' ideal of what Ireland is. It is only when I travel to do research, and meet with family members who still live in Ireland, that I get a very small taste of exactly how things are politically and economically. Despite that, I have always loved the country of Ireland, and it is still my dream to one day live there in the person of a 'real' citizen. Although I may be viewing it through rose-coloured glasses, I am proud to say I am a citizen of Ireland.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Tuesday's Tip: Irish Records Updates on 'Finding Family: Research Aids' page

On this Tuesday's Tip I am passing along updates for sites I have listed on my page "Finding Family: Research Aids", as well as additions to the page itself. I add to this page anytime I find a site that proves to be helpful.

Cheers and Happy Hunting to you!

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New portal website for finding search accessible archival collections:

The Irish Archives Resource (IAR) is a web portal that enables researchers to search for publicly accessible archival collections that are located in Ireland. The IAR is funded by the Heritage Council of Ireland and is supported by the Archives and Records Association (Ireland). This portal is useful now, depending on your research interests, and with the possibility of future institutional partnerships, it holds the promise of growing into a far reaching and valuable resource.

They describe it as follows:

"The IAR consists of an online database which provides searchable archival descriptions that are created in accordance with national archival guidelines and international archival standards. Web links from each descriptive entry lead to repository home pages, detailed item level finding aids, databases, or digital objects.

The purpose of the IAR Portal is to:
  • Allow users to locate archival collections that are relevant to their research.
  • Stimulate the increased use of archival collections across the whole of Ireland by directing researchers to the relevant repositories/archives services.
  • Encourage the development and publication of comprehensive, standardised archival descriptions.
  • Facilitate access to documents/items by linking to detailed finding aids/descriptive lists, web pages, or digital objects, that are held, for example, on the web site of each repository/archives service."

Link to the site here: http://www.iar.ie/AboutUs.html

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Irish Family History Foundation: Wicklow Church Marriage Records

The IFHF is pleased to announce the online addition of 95,000 church marriage records from the Wicklow Family History Centre for Roman Catholic and Church of Ireland parishes in Co. Wicklow. See the Wicklow Sources List for full details.

Use this link and login using your existing IFHF login details.
http://wicklow.rootsireland.ie

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Ancestry Ireland (Ulster Historical Foundation)"Explore Ulster's History and Genealogy":

These records are not just limited to the modern day state of Northern Ireland, but cover the Province of Ulster, including areas which are not part of Northern Ireland.

Here is a full listing of all that they have in their database, including newly added records:
http://www.ancestryireland.com/database.php

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Cemeteries

I've added a link to the Irish cemetery pages at Interment.net. Despite the fact that it's a bit of an eyesore, I've also added a 'Find A Grave' customized search box for graves in Ireland.

Interment.net: Ireland and Northern Ireland pages:

http://www.interment.net/ireland/index.htm

Find A Grave: Irish Cemeteries:

See 'Find A Grave' customized search box on 'Finding Family: Research Aids' page.

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The National Library of Ireland Digital Photographic: You don't have to pay Ancestry.com in order to view photographs from the National Library Digital Photographic Archive. Just click on the link below, which I've added to my research page, and you will be able to access over 33,000 digital images, including those from the collections of Lawrence, the Keogh Brothers, and the Irish Independent newspaper.

National Library of Ireland Digital Photographic Archive

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Copyright© J.Geraghty-Gorman 2011.
Thanks to The Graphics Fairy for the great graphic.

Friday, June 10, 2011

New page for this blog: Faces of Genealogy

Last week Thomas MacEntee alerted us to the publication, by an L.A. newspaper (which shall remain nameless), of an offensive image within the body of an article about the SCGS Jamboree. At that time Thomas asked us to publish images on our blogs which feature the faces of those people who represent the face of genealogy for us.

When I saw the outpouring of photographs and articles on this topic, I felt so very proud of all of us who are members of the GeneaBloggers community. Personally, this exercise was very meaningful, because it meant I took the time to go through all of the images I have in order to look for that defining one which is, for me, "The Face of Genealogy". Ultimately I ended up publishing a grouping of photographs which I thought fit the bill.

In light of the fact that doing this meant so much to me, I have decided to create another page for this blog. On this page, which is entitled "Faces of Genealogy", I have published photographs which are especially meaningful to me. I hope that you will enjoy viewing them as much as I do. As I have stated at the top of the new page, "These are the faces of some of my family members. These are the faces of some of those who have inspired me, driven me to do research, and haunted my dreams. These are the faces of my family history and genealogy."

Monday, May 30, 2011

A very fine man, indeed: Francis 'Frank' Magee 1902-1974

Francis 'Frank' Magee

When I sat down to write about my paternal granduncle Frank Magee, I felt a little troubled because I want to do his family proud in telling you about him. When I visited with the Magees in Dublin in August of 2010, one thing became abundantly clear to me. Francis 'Frank' Magee was a man who was not only loved by his children and grandchildren, but also greatly respected by them.

Frank Magee was a 20th century hero, but not in the ordinary sense of the word. There are neither war stories about him with which to regale you, nor a caché of special medals to review. Frank Magee is a hero in what I think is the most important sense, as a husband, father, and grandfather, one of those who is rarely celebrated, but should be. He was a hero to his family and to his community, to his beloved wife Mary, to his fourteen children, to his 47 grandchildren, and as a worker and foreman at Jameson Distillery.

Francis 'Frank' Magee was born in Dublin Ireland 16 December 1902, the third born (brothers Patrick William 1898-1900 and Michael Francis 1896-1921) of my paternal great-grandparents, Patrick Magee and Mary Dunne Magee. In September of 1928 Frank and his wife Mary (nee Maher) were married in Aughrim Street Church of the Holy Family in Stoneybatter, Dublin. Frank followed his father Patrick, and elder brother Michael, into the profession of scriber at Jameson Distillery. Frank Magee quickly rose up through the ranks at Jameson, and eventually became a foreman. As part of his responsibilities he had to always be near the Jameson compound and so he moved his family into the huge house on North Ann Street which was part of the Jameson property.
Mary Magee nee Maher


Frank and his wife Mary loved the big house and filled it with family and friends. My mother recalls the very first time she went to meet Uncle Frank. She felt overwhelmed by the sheer size of the six story house, and truth be told, somewhat intimidated by the stature of the man she was meeting. My mom remembers him as a man who very clearly had the respect of all members of his family. She recalls that everyone had to stand behind their chairs at a massive table before Uncle Frank indicated that they might all sit down to dine. I imagine that running the household in an ordered way was the only way to rule a roost with 14 children. Although his children recall him as a man who required great discipline, they also remember a lot of love and laughter in their home.

Frank and Mary Magee




Some of his children recall going around the Jameson Distillery property with their father at the end of the business day when he checked to make certain everything was locked up and that all was as it should be. What a wonderful thing to remember sharing such a time with your father. They spoke of climbing up the many stairs in the facility, making their way close to the tops of the huge distilling vats, and of the huge water container which resembled a giant swimming pool.

One of his daughters told me that although her father was strict, a necessity for keeping fourteen children in line, he had a gentle side as well. If there was a time when he had to discipline them for misbehaviour, afterward, at night when the children were in bed, he would pop his head into their rooms and, not knowing whether they were awake or asleep, he would softly whisper that he was sorry they'd had a disagreement that day.

Frank Magee also had a very positive influence on my father. My dad had many fond memories of childhood holidays spent in Rush with his Uncle Frank, Aunt Mary, Aunt Mollie, and Uncle Willie. Dad also remembered his uncle as a man with an excellent work ethic which my father sought to emulate as he grew into a man. When our family returned home to Ireland for the first time, I remember my father was very excited about going to Ballyfermot to have a visit with Uncle Frank, and to introduce my brother and me to him. Of that visit I recall the sheer joy that was there between my father and his uncle when they greeted each other. It brought tears to my thirteen year old eyes.

Francis 'Frank' Magee died 6 December, 1974 and is interred along with his wife Mary at Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin, Ireland. Their children and grandchildren visit their grave often.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Surname Saturday: "We're connected because my dad said so..."

Can you prove a connection to all of the names on your surname list?

This post is prompted by an email exchange I recently had with someone who contacted me because of their connection to the Kettle family in the maternal branch of my family tree. The exchange prompted me to consider what it means to say that we are connected to someone who lived long ago. What kinds of research have we done to establish these connections? What do we consider to be a legitimate source for research? Do we document our claims, or are we simply surname collectors? Believe or not, I am surprised to discover what some researchers consider to be acceptable answers to these questions.

In this particular email exchange the author, whom I will call 'Andy'** since I don't have permission to use his/her name, wrote about having discovered my blog in the course of doing family history research. In the first message Andy claimed to be an "immediate" descendant of Andrew J. Kettle. I was a little flummoxed by the use of the word 'immediate', because I have always understood 'immediate' to be a referent for the closest family members of a person. For example, as his daughter, I am an 'immediate' descendant of my father. Setting aside meanings, I continued to read the message. Andy explained that, as the official family genealogist, for years every family member has relied on Andy to do all of the family history research.

I was very excited to be contacted by this fellow family member and so wrote back right away explaining that my maternal great-great grandmother Mary Kettle Fitzpatrick is Andrew J. Kettle's sister. I outlined the maternal branch of my family tree in order to demonstrate my connection to her, and explained that I would be happy to share my sources and documentation. Then, I asked how Andy is connected to the family. The answer I received very much surprised me. Andy said the following, "Our family surname is Kettle, and my dad said we are descended from Andrew J. Kettle, the Irish Land Leaguer".

Thinking my question had been misunderstood, I wrote back asking about Andy's lineage. You know, which child of Andrew J. Kettle is your great-grandmother, grandmother, great-grandfather, grandfather, or whatever? The email reply I received almost knocked me over. Andy repeated that their surname is Kettle, and that their dad told their family they were 'immediate' descendants of Andrew J. Kettle.

Okay, I admit it, I was like a dog with a bone on this one. I wrote back and explained that I did not understand the way in which Andy was using the term 'immediate', and asked for clarification. Also, I included the names of all of the Kettle children and asked, of the names I had listed, to whom is Andy related?

Big surprise (not): I did not receive a reply. So...I guess Andy is descended from Andrew J. Kettle because Andy's dad said so. The source is not a record or even a family tree; the source is insistence.

My dad once mentioned that our family is connected to St. Laurence O'Toole. I have not yet done the research to prove or disprove that the connection to this 12th century Irish saint is a legitimate one, but hey "my dad said" we are connected. If I use Andy's logic that would mean my dad's claim must be true. That would be a very good thing because then I would have a direct connection to Heaven, and I might very well need one.

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Copyright©J.Geraghty-Gorman 2011.

Note:**I am using the alias "Andy" as gender neutral: it is not my intention to embarrass this man or woman and so I am not identifying this person as a man or a woman.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Matrilineal Monday: Liverpudlian birth records in Latin, and a nice surprise

As I have shared with you in past postings, the family of my maternal grandmother Mary Angela Fitzpatrick emigrated away from Ireland. Sometime after her father Thomas sold his '7-day License House' [i.e. Public house & grocery], and in the autumn of 1897, the family headed to Liverpool, England. While they were in residence at Liverpool for a relatively short period of time, the family not only suffered the loss of six year old Joseph, in November of 1901, but also welcomed two more boys. Thomas Andrew was born on 27 April 1899, and John came into this world on 27 August 1901.

During their tenure in Liverpool, the Fitzpatrick family lived in the densely populated wards of Kirkdale and of Scotland. Although Thomas found work on the docks, the work was sporadic and unreliable. Despite the hardships they endured, the family remained deeply religious and were members of St. Alban's Roman Catholic Church, a church which stood just inside the Scotland ward near Athol Street. At the time of Thomas's birth the family was living at 19 Milford Street in the Kirkdale ward; by the time of John's birth they had moved to 360 Great Howard Street in the Scotland ward. It is in the parish records of St. Alban's Roman Catholic Church that I located the birth records for John and Thomas.

The records are interesting in and of themselves because they are written in Latin, the language of the Roman Catholic Church well into the 20th century. Most, if not all, of the records I have so far gathered have some Latin words or phrases in them; however, despite the fact that my research dates back to the 1740s, these are the first records I've found in which the information is disseminated entirely in Latin. In my opinion the Latin version bears a certain elegance that I find attractive. The records are also interesting because of what they include and what they do not, and the nice surprise which showed up on one of them.

Here is a list of the Latin terms used in the record translated into English:

Anno: "In the year"
die: "the day of"
mensis: "of the month"
natus: "was born" (male)(female would be 'nata')
baptizatus: "was baptized" (male) (female would be 'baptizata')
filius: "the son of" (daughter would be 'filia")
olim: "in times past": in other words the maiden name of the mother
conjugum: "married couple"
a me: "from me"
Patritia: Priest (not an exact translation, but you get the picture)
Patrinus fuit: "godfather was"
Matrina fuit: "godmother was"

Before we even look at the forenames, which are also recorded in Latin, some of the word endings (as noted above) tell us that this is a male child. Also, in this case I am fortunate because the forenames closely mirror their English language counterparts, so there is no confusion.

Thomas Andreas Fitzpatrick is Thomas Andrew Fitzpatrick.
His father’s name is noted as Thomae instead of Thomas.
His mother Meariae Teresae Fitzpatrick is Mary Teresa Fitzpatrick.


Literally translated Thomas Andrew Fitzpatrick’s record reads as follows:

In the year 1899, the day of 27, of the month April was born, and in the year of 1899, the day of 8, of the month May was baptized Thomas Andrew Fitzpatrick, the son of Thomas and Mary Teresa Fitzpatrick (in times past Hines), married couple: from me Father Francis Keating. Godmother was Elizabeth Christie.

You will notice there is no godfather named on the record. Also, after the priest's name there appears a phrase which is abbreviated. I cannot say for certain what it is; however, it may be 'missio adiuncti' meaning "associated to the mission of" the church.

John Fitzpatrick's birth record has a few interesting quirks in comparison with his elder brother's.


Literally translated John's birth record reads:

In the year 1901, the day of 27, of the month August was born, and in the year of 1901, the day of 30, of the month August was baptized John Fitzpatrick, the son of Thomas and Mary Fitzpatrick (in times past Hynes), married couple: from me Father Francis Keating. Godmother was Anna Kennedy.

John's record is a excellent example of the need to search such records carefully. His name is recorded as 'Joannes', which is the Latin rendering of 'John'. On first sight an English reader might pick it up as a female name. Again, the word endings of 'natus' and 'baptizatus' confirm this as a male child. Also, his mother's forename is recorded as Maraie (Mary) and her maiden name is recorded as 'Hynes', not 'Hines' as it is on his brother's; however, I have seen these incarnations before in records of Mary's other children. Once again you will notice the name of the godfather is curiously absent, and the odd little abbreviation follows the priest's name. The godmother in this case is Anna Kennedy.

Also, there is a wonderfully interesting notation in the column under the home address, the nice surprise to which I alluded in the title of this piece. It reads, "Matrimonius junctus Mariae Donegan in Ecclesia Inchicore Dublin Eire die 11th Augustus 1940. T. Carney". This translates to "joined to a marriage with Mary Donegan in the Church of Inchicore, Dublin, Ireland, the day of 11 August 1940". I am very grateful to T. Carney, whoever he/she was for what looks like a good lead to John Fitzpatrick's marriage record.

The search continues...

Copyright©2011 J. Geraghty-Gorman. All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Wordless Wednesday: Never Forget: The Hungry Heart, a Famine Memorial

'The Hungry Heart' by Edward Delaney, St. Stephen's Green, Dublin


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Copyright©J.Geraghty-Gorman 2011. All Rights Reserved.
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