Winter Trip to Ireland 2003
February 14, 2003
We departed the hotel at 6:30 am to take tube to Heathrow. We
didn’t notice any military presence there, though, on the TV, there
were reports that a battalion was posted around airport to counter any threat
of terrorism. A quick flight to Dublin, landing in clear weather. Seamus
meets us airport. We quickly get a Renault Scenic from Malone rent-a-car,
and then through the M50 to Templelogue.
I got lost as usual within 500 yards of Seamus’ house. Couldn’t find
reverse in the gears of the rental car, so I pushed it backwards and u-turned
to get to Seamus’. I’m glad Templeoguers are patient, I got
so bollixed pushing the care backwards but on the wrong side of the road
as my American
instinct for the right side won out as soon as I turned around to push the
damn thing back.
Seamus gave me some old photos for my family project on the computer,
Margaret put out lovely luncheon for us. Gentle Seamus – and I sense many
Irish – are not favorable to the US invasion of Iraq that our government
is pushing. Shay thinks that anything like that should be a matter that
UN
approves, not a single-nation pushing their own way.
After meal, the three of us set out for the West. We drove out toward
Sligo, then north toward Enniskillen, and along Loch Erne to Belleek,
Ballyshannon
and Donegal. As the light fled out of the day – sunset on Donegal Bay,
we headed into the Blue Stacks, Ardara, and then Glenties. We stopped at
Leo McClune’s pub for his jokes, his songs. Then a fine Valentine’s dinner
across street at the hotel – filled with couples, red napkins, candlelight,
special menu, and the three musketeers wolfing down a more salmon, and
red and white colored desserts. I shouldn’t aver that the Irish get
too romantic though. Behind us, two couples at two separate tables, the farmers
in clean shirts, leaning back from their wives, to talk with one another,
while candles burned and wives simmered.
Sad News at Arrival
Drove on in dark, through Dungloe, Rosses and the back of Bloody Foreland
to land about 9 pm at An Dorlin. Patsy Murray welcomed us to their guest
house, but had to give Kelly the sad news that Kel’s cousin, Peter McGinley,
had died. He had gone to Ballyness pier on Thursday evening and when
he didn’t return the alarm went up, they found his car on the pier,
and then eventually found his body; the incoming tide had washed it up
near
Ardsbeg, further inland from the pier.
Kelly called Sally in Ballyness, the deceased’s sister.
Cahil Murray and his wife, Patsy stood us to a drink. Kel and Jimmy
stayed up, and there was a music session – Helen and Thomas (Cahel’s
business partner) singing and playing guitar and tin whistle.
Saturday, February 15, 2003.
Big breakfast. Off to Falcarragh, over the Bloody Foreland road. We
went first to Sally’s. Kel and her commiserated. Kel wanted to go
up to the funeral which was to be held the next day in County Meath, the
town of Kells, where Peter lived. Sally thought Packy Doohan could accommodate
Kelly, so up to town we went. I called Kit while they went to Packy’s, then
I walked on by myself to the farm. I stopped at Doohery Lane, and went down
it to where it got low and swampy, climbed up on Ballyconnell wall to shoot
some photos of the Forth Uncle Hughie had told me that this wall was
built partly by his father – working at thrupence a day – a “publics work” project
that the Olpherts had offered their tenants.
Breege was in good spirits and received me well. She has a new cow,
springing, and a calf that came with her.
Those and two more animals were in byre and stable. Big stack of turf,
big pile of manure in the midden. Breege has a nice new color TV, and she
was watching steeplechase horseracing when I came in. Kel and JJF arrived
not long after me. The camera that I have has a video clip feature, so we
had some fun making little movies to show back in states.
Seanparc
I got to spend some time up in the Seanparc. This field more than
all others has some hold on me. Whenever I get to come to Ireland, it
is here
that is always the destination that draws me. Partly, I suppose it is memories
of working in that field with Hughie, part stories he told me there about
Dad, part the sweep of sea, and strand, cliffs, fields and cottages. I
remember reading something about the rituals Romans went through in establishing
the proper site for a temple. They would walk about until they sensed/discerned
that they were at a place that the god had penetrated the ‘mundus’, had
emerged into the mundane, making that place sacred – that’s where they
would then build the temple. The temple would be sacred, not because it
was a temple, but because it was the place on earth that the presence of
the god had made sacred. The Seanparc is a place where I sense the presence
of who were here before me.
After our visit with Breege, we returned to town to see Packy.
At Gweedore Bar we had a pint and met a woman, Mary Curran, nee Gallagher,
and her two daughters, Agnes and Ann. Agnes told us that she works at
the Salmon Hatchery in Meenderry and that Meenderry is where she and her
mother live. I told her that I had visited the hatchery last year with
nephew, Michael, and with niece, Laura Lee after showing them a place I
once owned in Meenacreeve. They were interested to know the exact location
of the farm that Kit and I had purchased. After I told them exactly where
it was, by the bend in the road, just after coming uphill from the small
stream, with Trasc just to NW, then Mary told me that that was the house
in which she had been born! She is a 69 year old woman who had married and
moved to Meenderry, and the old house had fallen apart. It had been an old
fashioned one story cottage, a main room and two sleeping alcoves. Mary said
that the loft of the cottage was just that; used for storage, but sometimes
she slept up there. I told her that just last year, Michael had found a horseshoe
in the joist ledge, and that I had brought it home to USA.
It hangs for good luck in my house.
Upstairs for dinner, Eileen Ferry was our waitress, as she has been
for three or four years. We had soup and salmon, as we have had for three
or four years. They had a fire against the cold outside; one other party
of 20 people celebrating a birthday livened the room and it was all delicious,
and Eileen was as gracious as ever. Ice cream to finish it.
Sunday Feb 16, 2003
Up at 6am. Drove Kelly to Forth, where he woke up Breege to retrieve
the “Ernest Shackleton” coat that he had forgotten last night. Then to Packy’s.
Kel went with Packy today for Peter’s funeral in Meath. On my way back
to b and b after dropping Kel off, I stopped near Coll’s pub in Magheraroarty
to watch the day begin. The light came up over Horn Head washing form and
shape into Inis Bo Finne and Inishdooey. But then back to bed for another
hour. I am over the cold that I brought from home, but I notice that I
am low on energy, and bothered by sore heel and right ankle. I’m
not anxious for the limits of old age.
Jimmy and I went to 11AM mass, the new priest, Kevin ________, a humble,
delicate sort reported on parish finances instead of sermon. He mentioned
Fr. Con, and spoke of all the good that Con had done for the parish before
his hasty retirement. Kel’s funeral mass 150 miles distant
was to be at 11:45. Jimmy and I saw Dennis McCallion after mass, and then
we went
to pick up Breege for our day in Letterkenny with Julia.
We drove to Letterkenny by way of Muckish Gap, a cold but dry day,
with wind and sunshine in it.
Julia and Frank look well, and Pat was as delightful
as ever. Julia’s brothers are all in poor form right now – Jim
in Oxford with cancer, Gerard in London just had a heart attack and Michael
in Letterkenny
Hospital awaiting word on whether or not kidney pain is more than pain.
Frank’s niece had typed up Frank’s handwritten autobiography and published
it in a spring form binder – nicely edited with scanned photos and captions.
Frank is a good writer and story-teller. I hope we can get a copy – his
exploits in the RAF and his wandering to Australia need an unhurried reading.
Julia put out a big spread for us – so much food- sirloin steaks and
five different kinds of vegetables, then six different kinds of desserts.
She makes something that might be called ‘ambrosia’ that I’ve
only had at her table that I like too much.
Martha, Michael Duffy’s wife came in, very upset about her husband.
They will not find out until Tuesday what the diagnosis is for him- it can
be bad, it can be nothing – the uncertainty has her in a state. Julia
is a nurse and I could see, a good one. She was consoling to Martha without
denying the possibilities that hang now in the air.
Then Frank’s little sister,
Angela (about 50 years old). She lives in Ballybofey and had been in
town to shop. Stopped by to see her big brother.
We left Letterkenny then and drove Breege home to Forth. Went to Packy’s
and then Sally’s house to see if Kelly had gotten back. He had not.
We left word that he should meet up with us at the Gweedore when he got
home.
As it was, we ran into him just as we were getting to town.
At Gweedore, we had a pint, and then another, as music/dance students
from Ballyconnell were practicing their music and a new reeling dance.
Jimmy
was chatting with, well, everyone, and met the owner of the pub, Mary McGinley
of Magheraroarty, sister of John McGinley the bus company owner. She had
JJF up and dancing in his stocking feet, as the music students were replaced
by a C and W duet that were from Burtonport. The woman had a deep and strong,
Patsy Cline type of voice, and it was a joy listening them to go at Johnny
Cash songs, and then ‘Will you go, laddie go/ will we all go together,
through wild mountain thyme….
We got to our beds before 1 am. People didn’t even get to the pub until
near midnight – the legal closing time. I did get to talk a bit with
Noel Coll (of the Harley Colls, Inis Bo Finne) and his wife Evelyn who
were out
for a night.
So Kelly’s day was long and mixed – a funeral for a close cousin, walking
from wake at house, to church behind coffin, then a walk to graveyard.
But Kel was happy to meet up with cousins, some of whom he hadn’t seen
since he left Ireland in 1946 – almost 60 years ago.
