Susan Dunne wrote a fine column on the Irish yesterday. I sent her an email complimenting her. In my email I mentioned my Irish roots and how my great grandfather (Mom’s side) and grandfather (Dad’s side) came to Hartford from Cork to escape the British starvation that was killing thousands. Upon arriving in Hartford they were “greeted” like lepers. The WASPS treated them with disdain yet they overcame it all to survive and raise families. Many did join fire departments and many like my great grandfather John Sheehan became police officers. God bless America, a place that offered refuge to my forbearers and millions more.🙏☘️🇺🇸
My paternal great, greats came from Ireland after a stay in Liverpool (I’m first generation on my mother’s side, her having been born in Estonia). My paternal grandfather was Catholic, my grandmother was Protestant. Their sons were baptized Catholic, their daughters Protestant. On Sundays they would walk to the end of the block. Grandma would cross the street to the Congregational church or the “Congo” as we would call it to get her going. Grandpa would continue walking the six blocks to St. Joseph’s for mass. On St. Patrick’s day it wasn’t unusual for her to give him something like an Orange card inscribed, “Erin go bragh you bastard”. Their relationship was a bit of a roller coaster. When asked about the Catholic/Protestant thing grandpa would engage in a little comparative analysis and say something like (paraphrasing now and cleaning up the language); “When you’re a Catholic you can be drunk all the time but you better not be screwing your neighbor’s wife. If you’re a Protestant you can screw whoever you want but you better be sober when you do it”. This once caused grandma to lock grandpa out of the house for a few days during which he slept on my uncles couch and stunk up the house with his cigars.
I would not belong to any group that would have me. No. An old aunt applied to get into the. Jamestowne Society (or so I was told) and I never found out what came of that.
I was a DAR member that resigned in “bad” standing as I owed them money. I was fresh out of school, was struggling financially and hanging out with a bunch of old ladies without my stepmom (moved to FL) and her friend, Avis (died) wasn’t my idea of a good time. My stepmom, Avis and I were kind of troublemakers. We drank a lot at their luncheons, and on more than one occasion, giggled inappropriately.
Susan Dunne wrote a fine column on the Irish yesterday. I sent her an email complimenting her. In my email I mentioned my Irish roots and how my great grandfather (Mom’s side) and grandfather (Dad’s side) came to Hartford from Cork to escape the British starvation that was killing thousands. Upon arriving in Hartford they were “greeted” like lepers. The WASPS treated them with disdain yet they overcame it all to survive and raise families. Many did join fire departments and many like my great grandfather John Sheehan became police officers. God bless America, a place that offered refuge to my forbearers and millions more.🙏☘️🇺🇸
Amen.
My paternal great, greats came from Ireland after a stay in Liverpool (I’m first generation on my mother’s side, her having been born in Estonia). My paternal grandfather was Catholic, my grandmother was Protestant. Their sons were baptized Catholic, their daughters Protestant. On Sundays they would walk to the end of the block. Grandma would cross the street to the Congregational church or the “Congo” as we would call it to get her going. Grandpa would continue walking the six blocks to St. Joseph’s for mass. On St. Patrick’s day it wasn’t unusual for her to give him something like an Orange card inscribed, “Erin go bragh you bastard”. Their relationship was a bit of a roller coaster. When asked about the Catholic/Protestant thing grandpa would engage in a little comparative analysis and say something like (paraphrasing now and cleaning up the language); “When you’re a Catholic you can be drunk all the time but you better not be screwing your neighbor’s wife. If you’re a Protestant you can screw whoever you want but you better be sober when you do it”. This once caused grandma to lock grandpa out of the house for a few days during which he slept on my uncles couch and stunk up the house with his cigars.
Ahh, memories. Sláinte!
I laughed out loud. Let’s just say love prevailed.
Here's to the immigrants, who get the job done!
Perfect.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=rGvZGCh16yA
Backatcha: https://youtu.be/9d8SzG4FPyM
Good one.
Susan, are you a member of the DAR?
I would not belong to any group that would have me. No. An old aunt applied to get into the. Jamestowne Society (or so I was told) and I never found out what came of that.
I was a DAR member that resigned in “bad” standing as I owed them money. I was fresh out of school, was struggling financially and hanging out with a bunch of old ladies without my stepmom (moved to FL) and her friend, Avis (died) wasn’t my idea of a good time. My stepmom, Avis and I were kind of troublemakers. We drank a lot at their luncheons, and on more than one occasion, giggled inappropriately.
Ha. Well done!