Velda and Joe: A(nother) Grand Adventure

Last weekend the Irish government released the 1926 Census. This is the first enumeration of the Irish Free State, established in 1922, and it contains a list of everyone in the Doherty family who was living in Forristalstown that year.

John Doherty is described as “Father,” 84 years old, and a widower. John is the brother of my great-grandfather Edmond, and everyone we know as our Irish cousins is his descendant. Above John’s name is James Doherty, 45 years old, and married to Mary Doherty, 30 years old. She was born in Aylwardstown, less than a mile away. In 1926 James and Mary had five children, from 1 to 7 years old.

John and James are listed on the family gravemarker at Glenmore Parish that I shared in an earlier post. The Census doesn’t contain the names Edmond (c 1929) and Seamus (c 1931), who were yet to be born. Seamus is the father of Gerry, who I wrote about the other day. Seamus and his wife Molly are on the gravemarker. Edmond is the father of Mary, whose family is the subject of this post. Edmond is not on the gravemarker. Gerry and Mary are first cousins to each other, and my third cousins.

Mary picked us up from our hotel in Waterford. On the way back to her house she asked if we’d like to see her family’s plot in the graveyard. We said yes, obviously. It was a different graveyard, at the parish church in Slieverue, down the road from Glenmore. How did they end up here? I don’t know. It wasn’t birth-order related, from the available evidence. Younger brother Seamus took over running The Home Place (Forristalstown) while Edmond was farming near here.

Mary took us back to her house in Drumdowney Upper, and as we drove past the set back houses at the base of the hill she began remarking on the residents. That’s her nephew’s house, this one is her brother’s, that’s the house she grew up in, and this is where her brother raises cattle. Over there was the milking barn where she drove the cows every night. Mary’s house is at the top of the hill.

At the top of the hill we were greeted by her husband Tom, by their daughter Jacqui, and by Jacqui’s husband John. Jacqui and John are in media production, and have a documentary about grief about to come out. Because I’m curious this way, I determied that Jacqui is my third cousin once-removed, and the child she is carrying will be my third cousin twice-removed. Not that any of this matters, it’s just that those words are no longer abstractions.

When we came here for the first time in 2008 I was interested in finding my Irish heritage. What I found was a collection of relatives who are welcoming, generous, and utterly familiar. It’s best to surround yourself with people like that, relatives or not.