August 9: Today, we went to the Sligo Library of Local History where the MacDonagh papers are lodged. In 2005, I had spend some time going through them - finding out for example about the location of Killoran where grandparents, great grandparents and great-great grandparents are buried. It was great to go through more papers with Terence there - we bounced back and forth with each discovery. Because of the meticulous work completed by our father we were easily able to trace out these roots back to the 1700's.
The source of the Sligo MacDonagh family (Tirerril and Corran) springs from one of the three sons, Innechlach son of Muirdhach of the Broad Crown in 702 AD. Muiredhach had three sons: Conway, Innechlach, and Cathar. The O Connors and all its allied families such as the MacDermots, MacDonaghs, O Beirnes, and O Flanagans came from this source. From Muirdheach of Connaught there can be traced an unbroken line back to an Ri Feredach the Just in 75 AD - the "sun, moon and stars" king.
Closer to home! around 1700
George and Bridget Taaffe MacDonagh (great-great-great-great grandfather/mother). George trained as a doctor during the Penal days and forbidden by law to practice served as a tutor to the Taffee family of Strokestown - he eloped with and married daughter of the family Bridget Taaffe. The couple eloped to Sligo and settled at Lisserlough in the parish of Killoran. The people in the parish being in sore need of a doctor built a home for George and his new wife. Some time past, and a peddler called Billy Lee brought the news about the couple back to the Taffee family in Strokestown. Though the Taaffes never saw their daughter again, they sent to her an annual allowance of 100 pounds. Bridget was fabled in the baronry for her hospitality. Children born to George and Bridget were Patrick and George. Patrick lived to be over 80 when he died in 1826. George studied for the priesthood for a time period, His studies were cut short when he was home on holidays, had an injury imparing his speech (hit on the nose by a snowball) and was unable to continue his studies.
Patrick and Mary Carty Mac Donagh (great-great-great grandfather) born in 1746. He had 22 acres and tenants. He married Mary Carty and had four children: Margaret, Peggy, Marie, and James (born 1782). It was said that his first wife was not his social equal and is blamed for the family misfortunes! Widowed, he later married a Miss Mularkey, she was the sister of Doctor Mullarkey of Coolaney. They resided in Lisseralough. They had no children. They held four townlands known as Lloyds four quarters.
James and Elizabeth (Betty) Carty MacDonagh (great-great grandfather/mother) born in 1782. James married Elizabeth Carty of Carrickbauagher (6/22/1815) on the "eve of the bonfire night of the year of the Battle of Waterloo." They had nine children.
Their children: Catherine, Patrick, Mary, Rebecca, Owen, James, Andrew, John (married Maria Clarke), and Anne.
Emigrating to US: Rebecca, Owen, James, Andrew, and Anne
Emigrating to England: Mary
Patrick and Catherine McHugh MacDonagh of Carrowdoonen (great grandfather/mother). Patrick was born in 1819 and died in 1904 at the age of 85. He married Catherine McHugh (11/3/1866) daughter of Pat McHugh. They had three children:
James of Carrowcloover born 1869, married Bridget Flynn
Michael of Coolaney born 1871 married Catherine McCarrick
Eugene of Ballymote born 1873 married Anne Hayden
Eugene and Anne Hayden MacDonagh of Ballymote (grandfather/mother). Eugene born in 1873 married Anne Hayden. He was an agent for the W.H. Ryan Co, Ormond Quay, Dublin. They had seven children: Patrick (who dies at 10 months), James Stephen (Chris), Vincent, Mary, Margaret, Eugene, and Elizabeth. Eugene died in 1924 and Anne in 1942.
My father/mother: James Stephen (Chris)and Betty Blackledge MacDonagh. Chris was born in 1905 Educated at St Nathy's B'dreen, and University College Galway, 1928. Betty was born in Cork in 1917, daughter of Ralph and Etta Doyle Blackledge. Betty was educated at Loreto Abbey Dalkey. In 1941, Chris married Betty Blackledge. Chris died in 1960, and Betty in 2003. Their children are: Eoghan (b 1942), Etta (b 1946), Terence (b 1952), and Fiona (b 1959).
Monday, August 9, 2010
Donegal Historical Society Meeting
The icehouse was built by the English overlords in Dooey who used to visit their lands in this remote part of Donegal for hunting and fishing. They quickly discovered the rivers and streams were filled with salmon and other fish. Using the lessons learned from Sir Francis Bacon about chilling food, they built a sturdy ice house with two foot thick stone walls.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Revisiting Sites - Killoran and Ballymote
August 7: Terence, my younger brother, is here visiting this weekend.
Today, he wanted to visit Killoran graveyard where our grandparents Eugene and Anne), great grandparents Patrick and Catherine, and great-great grandparents James and Betty are buried "under the O Hara Alcove in the church ruins". We plowed our way through five feet tall nettles and briars to get to the far end of the graveyard and the site of the O Hara alcove. If anything, the site has become even more overgrown than before when I visited there in 2005. Terence's boots leaked as we plowed through the wet ground. This was not a good sign on the first stop of the day! I had more hiking plans for him!
From Killoran, we drove across the South Sligo countryside over to Ballymote (Baile an Mhota) where our father Chris (James Stephen MacDonagh) grew up as a boy (1905 - 1925). We pulled into the parking lot of the Church of the Immaculate Conception build in 1857. Keeping true to my custom of lighting a candle for special intentions, I lit one for Terence praying that all the spirits of the past would surround him and work to bring him comfort. He and I walked across the road to the see the ruins of the MacDonagh castle.
From out of the ordinary, wonderful extraordinary can occur. Terence with wet feet from his visit to Killoran stopped in a shop on Gaol Street to buy some dry socks. The shopkeeper mentioned that Jerry Cassidy across the street knew the history of everyone in the town, and if we were interested in learning about the Mac Donaghs, we ought to talk to Jerry! While Terence parked the car, I knocked on the Jerry's front door. A man in his late sixties, early seventies answered the door.
"Are ye Jerry Cassidy" I asked.
"I am indeed" He says. Looking at him, I said to him "I hear you are the man that knows the history
of the town, and that you might be able to help my brother and myself learn about the MacDonaghs who lived on Goal Street". "Aye, indeed" he says "come on in, will you?"
"Yes" I said, thinking to myself, can I believe what is happening!
Staying open, the pilgrim in me is fearless and open. What a gift!
An hour late, cups of tea, and friendly talk taking us all over the place, Jerry, his wife Esther (yes, Esther - my name too), Terence and I have jumped in conversation back and forth across generations of Mac Donaghs. Esther tells me the person to talk to is Mrs Cryan who lives up the street in the big white house, next to the old cinema. She is 84 years old, and will have stories and knowledge about the Mac Donaghs. Esther goes to the front door and comes back to tell us that Mrs Cryan is away today. Her son has the shop across the street - communication is as instant as a mobile!
As it turns out, Jerry and Esther were next door neigbours to Vincent (Vinnie) Mac Donagh, my Dad's younger brother, a bit of a "boyo". Jerry remembered Daddy and knew about his death and the Donegal Historical Society. From these conversations Terence and I were able to nail down the house where our father had lived in while growing up in Ballymote. Esther and Jerry have been married 49 years, have 8 children and 13 grandchildren. Their home on the main street is over 200 years old ...narrow hallway leading in from the front door down to the back of the house where the kitchen was located. We sat in the kitchen drinkng tea (with chocolate biscuits brought out on a plate for us).
Today, he wanted to visit Killoran graveyard where our grandparents Eugene and Anne), great grandparents Patrick and Catherine, and great-great grandparents James and Betty are buried "under the O Hara Alcove in the church ruins". We plowed our way through five feet tall nettles and briars to get to the far end of the graveyard and the site of the O Hara alcove. If anything, the site has become even more overgrown than before when I visited there in 2005. Terence's boots leaked as we plowed through the wet ground. This was not a good sign on the first stop of the day! I had more hiking plans for him!
From Killoran, we drove across the South Sligo countryside over to Ballymote (Baile an Mhota) where our father Chris (James Stephen MacDonagh) grew up as a boy (1905 - 1925). We pulled into the parking lot of the Church of the Immaculate Conception build in 1857. Keeping true to my custom of lighting a candle for special intentions, I lit one for Terence praying that all the spirits of the past would surround him and work to bring him comfort. He and I walked across the road to the see the ruins of the MacDonagh castle.
From out of the ordinary, wonderful extraordinary can occur. Terence with wet feet from his visit to Killoran stopped in a shop on Gaol Street to buy some dry socks. The shopkeeper mentioned that Jerry Cassidy across the street knew the history of everyone in the town, and if we were interested in learning about the Mac Donaghs, we ought to talk to Jerry! While Terence parked the car, I knocked on the Jerry's front door. A man in his late sixties, early seventies answered the door.
"Are ye Jerry Cassidy" I asked.
"I am indeed" He says. Looking at him, I said to him "I hear you are the man that knows the history
of the town, and that you might be able to help my brother and myself learn about the MacDonaghs who lived on Goal Street". "Aye, indeed" he says "come on in, will you?"
"Yes" I said, thinking to myself, can I believe what is happening!
Staying open, the pilgrim in me is fearless and open. What a gift!
An hour late, cups of tea, and friendly talk taking us all over the place, Jerry, his wife Esther (yes, Esther - my name too), Terence and I have jumped in conversation back and forth across generations of Mac Donaghs. Esther tells me the person to talk to is Mrs Cryan who lives up the street in the big white house, next to the old cinema. She is 84 years old, and will have stories and knowledge about the Mac Donaghs. Esther goes to the front door and comes back to tell us that Mrs Cryan is away today. Her son has the shop across the street - communication is as instant as a mobile!
As it turns out, Jerry and Esther were next door neigbours to Vincent (Vinnie) Mac Donagh, my Dad's younger brother, a bit of a "boyo". Jerry remembered Daddy and knew about his death and the Donegal Historical Society. From these conversations Terence and I were able to nail down the house where our father had lived in while growing up in Ballymote. Esther and Jerry have been married 49 years, have 8 children and 13 grandchildren. Their home on the main street is over 200 years old ...narrow hallway leading in from the front door down to the back of the house where the kitchen was located. We sat in the kitchen drinkng tea (with chocolate biscuits brought out on a plate for us).
Friday, August 6, 2010
Settling In
August 6: Happy Anniversary, Jon ....gra geal mo croi!
How quickly time slipped by this week. Terence arrives in from the ferry boat later this evening for a few days over the weekend through the middle of next week.
This past week was filled of the ordinary settling in and establishing a flow to the days much like my constant companion the Owenmore river that steadily glides by my writing window. It is my reminder of time passing. Sometimes I imagine it has stopped just to slow it down. Futile. Like the seconds and minutes 24/7 it slips by. Ever going on its way out, fulfilling it's destiny to meet the Unchin River below Union Woods and then fast flow on out to Ballisodare and Sligo Bay.
Yesterday, after a yoga session, I settled into a two hour guided mediation. Totallly refreshing and aha moments for journalling.
How quickly time slipped by this week. Terence arrives in from the ferry boat later this evening for a few days over the weekend through the middle of next week.
This past week was filled of the ordinary settling in and establishing a flow to the days much like my constant companion the Owenmore river that steadily glides by my writing window. It is my reminder of time passing. Sometimes I imagine it has stopped just to slow it down. Futile. Like the seconds and minutes 24/7 it slips by. Ever going on its way out, fulfilling it's destiny to meet the Unchin River below Union Woods and then fast flow on out to Ballisodare and Sligo Bay.
Yesterday, after a yoga session, I settled into a two hour guided mediation. Totallly refreshing and aha moments for journalling.
Monday, August 2, 2010
August Bank Holiday Weekend
See the slides from the August Bank Holiday Weekend ....
July 30: Friday at lunch time Maeve and Connor were ready for getting picked up. We started the jouney out west meeting Matt in Ashbourne just off the M50. Three hours later we were in Sligo.
On Saturday July 31, we stopped by Yeats forest in Hazelwood ....there we saw the swams and ducks... next stop was to explore Parkes Castle (originally O Rourke's castle), and the walks around it. There we also made plans to come back on Sunday for the boat ride around Lough Gill. We timed activities between Connor's afternoon naps....After he work up we packed up buckets and spades. We spent the rest of the time at Strandhill playing and climbing in the sand dunes, castle making and story telling. Of course, the important stop was made for ice cream and a wee pint to wet the throat!
Sunday August 1, we headed off to catch the 12:30 p.m. boat ride around Lough Gill joining the Yeats School scholars who were reciting Yeats poetry to match the scenery. Strandhill was the place of choice for the afternoon....for kite flying and castle building! By evening time, we were sun kissed and wind swept ....ready for a good nights sleep.
Monday August 2: Busy busy early morning send off. What a fun weekend!
July 30: Friday at lunch time Maeve and Connor were ready for getting picked up. We started the jouney out west meeting Matt in Ashbourne just off the M50. Three hours later we were in Sligo.
On Saturday July 31, we stopped by Yeats forest in Hazelwood ....there we saw the swams and ducks... next stop was to explore Parkes Castle (originally O Rourke's castle), and the walks around it. There we also made plans to come back on Sunday for the boat ride around Lough Gill. We timed activities between Connor's afternoon naps....After he work up we packed up buckets and spades. We spent the rest of the time at Strandhill playing and climbing in the sand dunes, castle making and story telling. Of course, the important stop was made for ice cream and a wee pint to wet the throat!
Sunday August 1, we headed off to catch the 12:30 p.m. boat ride around Lough Gill joining the Yeats School scholars who were reciting Yeats poetry to match the scenery. Strandhill was the place of choice for the afternoon....for kite flying and castle building! By evening time, we were sun kissed and wind swept ....ready for a good nights sleep.
Monday August 2: Busy busy early morning send off. What a fun weekend!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Patrick Kavanagh - Poet as Theologian
July 29: While Maeve and Connor are in their playgroup, I head north towards Carrickmacross to visit the Patrick Kavanagh Rural and Literary Resource Center. For the next three hours I pour through the centre recognizing that there is a message here for me ........
For a number of years now I have wanted to take the side road to visit the center. Kavanagh ( who died in 1967) is one of Ireland's leading poets of the 20th century. The centre is in the old church - the place of his growing up years, all the more interesting linking this with his views on religion and spirituality. For many people of his day- he was scorned and viewed foolish, if not "touched". He was forthright in speech calling a spade a spade.
His words of wisdom include " we get to our destiny in the end ....our role is to overcome the difficult art of not caring (what others think) ...few people he said have the courage to be themselves. He said ... courage ... be of courage ...in the name of Father, Son and Mother.
He identified two simplicities - the simplicity of going away ...and the simplicity of returning. In the final simplicity we are satisfied being ourselves.
What an amazing and awesome start to my returning ............
Reflection for this pilgrim and others on the journey of discovery:
Kavanagh was a prophetic voice. He was highly critical of the Irish Janenism - introduced into Ireland by Cardinal Paul Curren (1803 - 1878) after the synod of Thurles. This religion was not indigenous to Ireland - it was a "continental religion with its missions and novenas" that had displaced the druidic culture and turned Catholicism into a religion of "voteens" and "persons obsessively preoccupied with church based devotions, spurious practices and clerical rubics". He referred to this chapel-based religion as distancing itself from home and farm life, The old gaelic prayers said in lighting the lamp, churning and making bread were no longer given church prominence.
In his book Tarry Flyn - the holy spirit is in the hills, it is a God spirit who delights, and senses divine energy in the "bedlam of the hills" and pulses through the the day and growing crops. Kavanagh's indictment of Janenism goes a long way to explain the grip of the clergy and Catholic Church of his day and up to today. It helps explain why for so long scandals and abuses were not challenged. He saw the Janenism of his time as joyless, an insidious denial of life itself, and a betrayal of Christianity. See his poem on Lough Derg (1940) - this also connects with Lavery's painting of Lough Derg pilgrims.
He declared that God is feminine, she is the one whose impulse is gentle, generous, and affirming of creativity. His God has the properties of a Celtic Ri: comley, generous bountiful, clothed in a mist of textures and colors.
Kavanagh's spirituality reinstates the local, and rediscovers God in the "bits and pieces". He constructs a theology from the ordinary - things muddied with honest dirt are part of the iridescence of God ..."in the sows rooting where the hen scratches, we dipped our fingers in the pocket of God."
For a number of years now I have wanted to take the side road to visit the center. Kavanagh ( who died in 1967) is one of Ireland's leading poets of the 20th century. The centre is in the old church - the place of his growing up years, all the more interesting linking this with his views on religion and spirituality. For many people of his day- he was scorned and viewed foolish, if not "touched". He was forthright in speech calling a spade a spade.
His words of wisdom include " we get to our destiny in the end ....our role is to overcome the difficult art of not caring (what others think) ...few people he said have the courage to be themselves. He said ... courage ... be of courage ...in the name of Father, Son and Mother.
He identified two simplicities - the simplicity of going away ...and the simplicity of returning. In the final simplicity we are satisfied being ourselves.
What an amazing and awesome start to my returning ............
Reflection for this pilgrim and others on the journey of discovery:
Kavanagh was a prophetic voice. He was highly critical of the Irish Janenism - introduced into Ireland by Cardinal Paul Curren (1803 - 1878) after the synod of Thurles. This religion was not indigenous to Ireland - it was a "continental religion with its missions and novenas" that had displaced the druidic culture and turned Catholicism into a religion of "voteens" and "persons obsessively preoccupied with church based devotions, spurious practices and clerical rubics". He referred to this chapel-based religion as distancing itself from home and farm life, The old gaelic prayers said in lighting the lamp, churning and making bread were no longer given church prominence.
In his book Tarry Flyn - the holy spirit is in the hills, it is a God spirit who delights, and senses divine energy in the "bedlam of the hills" and pulses through the the day and growing crops. Kavanagh's indictment of Janenism goes a long way to explain the grip of the clergy and Catholic Church of his day and up to today. It helps explain why for so long scandals and abuses were not challenged. He saw the Janenism of his time as joyless, an insidious denial of life itself, and a betrayal of Christianity. See his poem on Lough Derg (1940) - this also connects with Lavery's painting of Lough Derg pilgrims.
He declared that God is feminine, she is the one whose impulse is gentle, generous, and affirming of creativity. His God has the properties of a Celtic Ri: comley, generous bountiful, clothed in a mist of textures and colors.
Kavanagh's spirituality reinstates the local, and rediscovers God in the "bits and pieces". He constructs a theology from the ordinary - things muddied with honest dirt are part of the iridescence of God ..."in the sows rooting where the hen scratches, we dipped our fingers in the pocket of God."
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
July 28 2010: Arrived in Dublin
Just what you want - an uneventful flight! We arrived half hour early.
If I think back to 2005, this is a very different landing from that June day....when I felt all the uncertainties of a returning emigrant ....
If I think back to 2005, this is a very different landing from that June day....when I felt all the uncertainties of a returning emigrant ....
An seú lá de mhí Mheithimh 2005
Arrival day in Dublin: Monday June 6, 2.
Here I am landed once again in Dublin. What a great word landed! It describes my search where is it that I need to land? Or be landed? This search began almost the day I left living in Ireland 45 years ago after my Father’s death. I exiled through Belfast on a hot summer day in June 1960. Today, I return in a different way from all my previous trips here. I am a pilgrim seeking what it means to live between two lands – idir dhá tire? Cén fad áith?
My plane was delayed leaving Chicago for over an hour and so I did not arrive in till after 10:00 a.m What is a little delay of an hour I have waited 45 years to do this! It is totally unclear to me what lessons I am to learn and what changes will occur in my life, what is only important at this point is that I start the journey.
Standing waiting for my bags, I recall looking at my watch and seeing it was 10:30, and thinking what am I doing? What do I intend for this journey? .....
As I come out the doors, there is Matt waiting off to the side in a sea of other faces ...... Walking out to the car, I say to myself slow down and absorb what it means to connect. I have a huge cloak to remove – the whole mantle of “getting things done” and being productive. More lessons to come I feel or is it fear?
This July day in 2010, I depart the plane with a knowing step, feeling I have come home again, all the while with one hand trying to get the mobile phone to work, and the other hand pulling my computer bag. I am muttering to myself as the battery is dead, and I have steps to climb. Walking along through the hallways, past the Vodaphone signs, down the stairs, and past the glass screen separating the US arrivals from the departing passengers already cleared for their returning US flight. Silent, solemn looking, a collection of strangers waiting for their flight. I am struck by the irishness of the faces through the lounge glass window. Finally passport control, more muttering my Irish passport was nt processed in time for this trip. I must go through the longer non-EU line.
Matt will be waiting (again) to pick me up, bless his heart. It is a work day for him. He needs to head off to a meeting with Dublin Council before 11. Our early landing will have helped if the luggage is off loaded in a timely way. Not for me. Finally my big red bag come through at the very end - loosing precious time with the longer wait. Loading up my baggage on to the cart, I make my way into the arrival hall, and immediately see Matt waving at me. Off we go to the car parking lot.
The traffic is heavy as we head in the direction of Central Dublin and Parnell Square to the side street where Matt's office is located. This side of Parnell Square is a mixture of old and new buildings, SinnFein, and Irish Trade Union offices line this side of Parnell Square. Matt's office is down a business lane with other new business model office sites, sort of incubator like buildings for artsy firms. Leaving my bags to go separate ways, he to his meeeting and me to walk over to the Hugh Lane Gallery as I wait for his meeting to finish and meet up for lunch near the Half'penny Bridge. There is an exhibition to see at the Hugh Lane: The Passion and the Politics - Sir John Lavery: The Salon Revisited
True to the pilgrim spirit, on my walk over to the Hugh Lane gallery, I meet a woman who is lost happening to be looking for the gallery. We talk on the way over. She is an artist from Longford. For the next couple of hours I completely get lost in the exhibition almost missing the time to meet up with Matt for lunch.
Later in the afternoon, we leave town for Ardee. It is pick up time at the creche...and time for play with Maeve and Connor till bedtime. Sleep comes very easily later that evening after a full day of travelling, arriving and connecting.
Matt will be waiting (again) to pick me up, bless his heart. It is a work day for him. He needs to head off to a meeting with Dublin Council before 11. Our early landing will have helped if the luggage is off loaded in a timely way. Not for me. Finally my big red bag come through at the very end - loosing precious time with the longer wait. Loading up my baggage on to the cart, I make my way into the arrival hall, and immediately see Matt waving at me. Off we go to the car parking lot.
The traffic is heavy as we head in the direction of Central Dublin and Parnell Square to the side street where Matt's office is located. This side of Parnell Square is a mixture of old and new buildings, SinnFein, and Irish Trade Union offices line this side of Parnell Square. Matt's office is down a business lane with other new business model office sites, sort of incubator like buildings for artsy firms. Leaving my bags to go separate ways, he to his meeeting and me to walk over to the Hugh Lane Gallery as I wait for his meeting to finish and meet up for lunch near the Half'penny Bridge. There is an exhibition to see at the Hugh Lane: The Passion and the Politics - Sir John Lavery: The Salon Revisited
True to the pilgrim spirit, on my walk over to the Hugh Lane gallery, I meet a woman who is lost happening to be looking for the gallery. We talk on the way over. She is an artist from Longford. For the next couple of hours I completely get lost in the exhibition almost missing the time to meet up with Matt for lunch.
Later in the afternoon, we leave town for Ardee. It is pick up time at the creche...and time for play with Maeve and Connor till bedtime. Sleep comes very easily later that evening after a full day of travelling, arriving and connecting.
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