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To all the airports I've experienced before (Part Two)

It's been over three weeks since I returned from Ireland. And my body is still adjusting. I finally got an average of almost 7 hours of sleep last week but today I am back to feeling tired. Being 66 is very different from being 65 bodywise. Last year at this time I accomplished moving back from Ireland after our 10-month adventure, being homeless for over a month, with not as much fatigue and angst as I feel now. Can one tiny year make that much of a difference?

 I have actually traveled quite a bit this year though. We went to Bermuda at the beginning of April, were back a week and then went to Alberta for mother-in-law's funeral (4 days there and back courtesy of Allegiant Air). In the middle of June I took eldest granddaughter to Vancouver to inspire her to think about going to university at UBC. I had already taken her to Washington DC and to Montreal/Ottawa in years past. But, when I think back to June, I did feel much more tired on that trip than I had before. Hmmm. 

 And then a few weeks ago, I had my ten days' traversing the width of Ireland, photographing headstones and meandering down (meandering--hah! that is a gentle word for gut-wrenching terror) narrow Irish roads looking for new cemeteries to photograph and my grandmother's ancestral farm in Cavan. I didn't actually find the farm but I finally found where the farm had been located. A very nice man with the surname Kelly stood outside his house and swept his arm over the land on the other side of his fence and said that that had been O'Reilly land before his great grandfather Kelly bought it from them. My great grandfather had actually already left the land before that though. I have always had a sneaky suspicion it was because of my great grandmother taking a pitchfork to the neighbors over fence lines.... At any rate, it was special to stand at the very place where they had farmed and argued and where my grandmother had been born.




The bottom photo, according to Mr. Kelly, shows where the peat bog used to be. He said the peat gave out a long time ago so it reverted back to forest. I wonder whether, when Grandma would go to Brome Lake in the Eastern Townships, she would ever look at the woods and the lake and be reminded of her childhood home.

The other exciting happening was proof that one should always listen to the Spirit, that small voice that tells you to do something. Before I went to Ireland, I had planned to spend four days in Clare, two days in Meath and then two days in Cavan before going back to Dublin to overnight before the plane ride home. But as I was heading from Clare to meet my friend Ann Marie at the Carlow County Fair on Sunday, I thought to myself "Oh, I have been to Cavan four times before and never found anything. Maybe I should ditch going to Cavan and go to Waterford instead, see my friends and visit Dunmore East again." When I met Ann Marie at the Fair, I told her what I was thinking and she, a genealogist herself, said "Why not give it one more go?" And the Spirit said to me, "Listen to her." So I did. As I had done three times previously, I went to Cavan Library. This time, though, I DID have my great grandfather's death date, May 29 1912. A week after my mother's birth in Montreal. Something I hadn't had before. Because I knew the date, the librarian suggested I look up newspaper archives, the Anglo Celt, for that month and year. And, blessing of all blessings, the Anglo Celt is digitized! The very helpful young librarian keyed in the information for me and this is what appeared:


My great grandfather's obituary! Suddenly what had been a statistic became a person, a person who had been "respected resident of Belturbet." He had relatives; sadly because the obit doesn't give the full first names, I haven't been able to match them to anyone yet, but I am still again closer than I have ever been before.

So, it was a good trip to Ireland. 

Once again, though, the trip home meant long waits in airports--Dublin and Atlanta again. Airlines strongly (read: you could end up in big trouble if you don't make it the gate in time) recommend a three-hour-before arrival at Dublin for an international flight. The better to buy things at the huge mall there. And, because of Delta scheduling, I arrived in Atlanta five hours before the next flight was due to board for Tucson. The airport was very noisy and there were no comfortable chairs to be had. By the time I boarded the flight to Tucson all I really wanted to do was sleep but even in First Class, the seats are not really conducive to curling up and going to sleep.

Still, I arrived home safely with more memories and over a thousand headstones to add to igp-web for other researchers. Some of my favorite photos from the end of my trip:
















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