A trip to see Mom and a reminder about why I bolg

Just recently took a trip back east to see Mom, now 97, who lives in the tiny Western Maryland mountain  town of Frostburg. Mom's great, by the way and thanks for asking. We did a bunch of things "genealogy" and I'll get to all of that in later posts. But first, this.

Was sitting at breakfast with cousins Linda and JoAnn and we got to talking about the ancestors. I was playing around on Ancestry the night before because I realized that I didn't know much about their father, Uncle Harry. So I worked on his line for a while and discovered that he and his lovely wife and my own darling aunt Louise, Dad's sister, are 5th or 6th cousins! Had to do a proper Lol!

We were at the Princess Restaurant on Main Street, which is just as charming as you'd suspect and where they keeps the very booth President Truman and his wife Bess sat in on their way to the inauguration, and it's in perfect order and unchanged. After we ordered, I brought out two sheets of paper, one with Uncle Harry's lineage and the other with Aunt Louise's. And walked the cousins back to see how they connect at George Adam Eckhart, founder of the tiny town of Eckhart (now called Eckhart Mines, but that's another story).

They were amazed! Imagine being told out of the blue that your parents were cousins, if distant cousins. "Well, that explains a lot," one of them guffawed! I think all kids will at least half-believe that their parents are cousins!

One thing lead to another, we talked about a family mystery involving twins (we have a lot of them in the family, on both sides), and then, predictably, the graves. You see, we're a family that looks after graves and is pretty serious about it. I hadn't yet made it around to see Grandma and Grandpop Kelly's grave yet but had planned on it today. It's at St Michaels' Cemetery.

We knew Grandpop's own father was buried just down a couple of spots. Yes, we all knew that and that he's right there beside his wife Christiana Eckhart Kelly, and that's where the Kelly and Eckhart lines come together. What wasn't so well-known is that Grandpop Kelly's grandparents, John Kelly and Bridget Corcoran, who both came from Ireland, are buried in St. Mike's Cemetery as well.

I thought the table would explode! This was the second genea-hand grenade to hit the table! Where, they both questioned at once. I gave some general directions. Irish cross, to the left of the main entry lane that goes to the big cross in the middle, down a couple of rows.

We said our sad and heart-felt good-byes, and off we went. I swung down to the house to pick up Mom and some aluminum foil for a stone rubbing. Then we were off to visit that very memorial for John Kelly and Bridget.

Mom recalled how shocked with disbelief that Grandpop Kelly was when she told him that his own grandfather was buried in St Mike's. He too was a big tender of the graves and it was very important that his parents and all of them were looked after. So he practically couldn't come to terms with it to know that his own dear grandparents were buried there in the same cemetery with his parents... and he didn't know.

We went to see the nice Irish cross for old John Kelly who made his way from Shannonbridge Ireland to the mountains of Western Maryland, most likely to work on the railroad, as so many Irishmen of his day did. He found Bridget Corcoran and married in Cumberland and they raised eight fine children, the boys all strong and the girls beautiful, or so I imagine:)

Cousin Linda had left the Princess and beat a trail over to the cemetery to find Old John's gravestone. She even beat Mom and I there! By the time I'd texted her to say I was a couple of rows off, she texted back to say she'd already found it!!

At the end of our breakfast together one of the girls asked if I still keep up with this blog. No, I sheepishly said, been busy. Now I felt bad that I hadn't. What fabulous cousin bait this blog has been!! Ugh. Neglectful me.

So here I am back again. And I've got some wonderful new stories to tell, if I do say so my own self.


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Talking Irish right at home

Mom and Dad in Ireland, about 1986.

I guess once you're Irish, you're always Irish, even down through the generations. Both Mom and Dad can claim their Irish heritage so I get to as well. Mom's Irish DNA goes back to her great grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Farrell who was born in 1835 in a county that still eludes us. Dad's Irish goes back to his great, great grandfather John Kelly who was born in Shannonbridge, County Offlay, Ireland. The funny thing is that I've listened to common Irish sayings all my life and use them too, not knowing where they came from. And I'm not talking about the really corny stuff that passes for "Irish talk" on St. Patrick's day.

Just ran across an article entitled, "Irish brogue for dummies," courtesy of Irish Central and was amazed at how many pieces of common daily Irish language found their way down through three or four generations and still counting. So here they are, and I swear, the family all still uses these... and a few more salty ones;)

Arse.
OK, you know what body part that means, so no need for explaining there. But it's about the way we use it. Mostly we say, "he's such an arse." But once in a while we'll say, "so get off your arse," mostly when someone complains in such a way that subtly implies they wish you'd do it for them. So, get off your arse isn't meant to be harsh because it's said with a snide smile and the use of the word "so" which underlines that it's meant as an introduction to the way to get their problem solved: get off your arse and do it yourself.

Bollocks
You probably know which body part this word references. But our family uses the word as a way of saying, oh darn, or a more emphatic way of saying oh shucks. And the tone goes down as you say it expressing the negative aspect of the situation, such as after spilling an entire 32 oz. container of honey on the kitchen floor. Bullocks.

Your man
As we use it, it refers to the patriarch of the family, the head man. "Is that your man I saw downtown last night at the tap room?"

C'mere
And again, you know what this means: come on over here. The family has always said it with an excited tone as though the person being summoned would receive a prize if they did come on over.

You're all right
The meaning here is, whatever happened, it's all fine now. I didn't take offense, no damage done, we'll all get over it. In today's language one would use, "we're good."

Eejit
Idiot, just pronounced differently. The meaning is that whomever the word is referencing did a stupid thing and could have done much better.

A Do
Let's have a real do and celebrate! It's a party, a gathering, a get together, and above all, a real good time no matter where it's held.

If I think about it a little while I can probably come up with a number of other phrases the family uses and maybe a couple that the grandparents used. It's fun to remember these and connect the dots all the way back to their Irish roots. And I like to keep them alive by bringing them into daily use in our family too. My husband, the Jewish guy from the Bronx, regularly call out to me, "C'mere," because now it's part of his own vocabulary. Have to admit, you'll hear me say, "Oy" too, and that didn't come from Ireland.

 

John Kelly's tombstone in St. Michaels's Cemetery, Frostburg, Allegany, Maryland.

John came from Ireland to Western Maryland and the big clue to where his homeland was there is on the tombstone.

Difficult to make out, it says he came from Shannonbridge, Clonmacnoise, Ireland. And that lead us all the way here...

Clonmacnoise, the name of the historical site as well as the parish where John came from.
Here is the graveyard at the historical site.

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