... To Finding My Roots

FUH-reaking Out

My great-aunt Mary Basil was a baller.  A nun of the highest order who spoke multiple languages, lived all over the world, and had a heart to serve.  She was diminutive in stature, but enormous in presence, and I remember her well.  She was also a meticulous note-taker, leaving pages of details related to her mother's family tree here in Ireland.  I have been carrying these notes around with me for more than 20 years, waiting for the day I could find our family.  This week, I had my day.

I arrived in Cashel, knowing it was centrally located to the different towns in my notes.  I had put out feelers for months prior to departing the states, without much response.  I knew I was going to be dependent on divine intervention through the help of others if I was going to actually make contact, particularly because nearly everyone has the same 3 surnames, or at least it seems that way.  Where to start??

Old Family Home

Enter PJ, my current hostelier here in Cashel.  PJ's the guy who's done everything, knows everyone, and you can tell, is a always a good time.  Within minutes of checking in to his lovely (and quiet, thank you Jesus) establishment, he was on the phone with no fewer than 6 people, including a man he calls "The grandfather of Tipperary", an elderly fellow who taught for over 50 years, loves genealogy, and knows everyone in the area.  He directed PJ to a particular shopkeeper the next town up, to which PJ said simply "I'll drive you up tomorrow, we'll see who we can find".

The next morning, after actually sleeping through the night (again, thank you Jesus), we hopped in his car and headed to Eddie's store, a town away.  We found Eddie in the back of his shop, who was instantly convinced that we are in fact cousins when he found his name at the top of my aunt's list!  He was as tickled as I was, introducing me to his beautiful wife Helen, and the young Sinead working the register, who happened to be another cousin a few more branches down our tree.  He then generously began to plan the rest of our time together.

Sweet Eddie, Lovely Joan

Eddie drove me past generations of our family's homes, assuring me over and over that I have "So many cousins here, so so many Katie, you wouldn't even believe it".  Later in the evening, he drove me to the birthplace of our great-grandmothers, which was simultaneously powerful and haunting, enhanced by the misty waning daylight and red fox darting through the fields.

We ended the evening at the pub of yet another cousin, in a town known for hurling.  It was a cozy well-run place, full of local hurlers and regulars alike.  Lovely cousin Joan was running the show, in addition to 2 of her boys and her husband Larry.  I assured her son that I am in fact not a gypsy, despite wearing hoops (little did he know I was trying to distract from the fact that my clothes were dirrrrty).  I did my best to keep up with the Guinness they so liberally poured, and the conversation of so many lost years.  I channelled the spirits of my grandmother, and my dad, and my crazy favorite aunt Mary Alice, who has lovingly bossed me into doing this for my entire life, despite how she may deny it.  How I miss them.

Grand Finale... And Only Just Getting Started

My time here was capped by a spontaneous reunion of several more generations of fantastic women I am honored to call family.  I believe I was afforded the opportunity to meet these remarkable relatives as much for my family as for myself.  I've never been more grateful for the mysterious way this country transcends space and time, enabling me to clearly discern each one of my relatives with me, despite the miles and oceans and lifetimes between us.  I'm quite sure I even heard Aunt Mary Basil laughing among us tonight, delighted at finding us finally reunited.  An extraordinary legacy, for an extraordinary woman.