The Emerald Isle, Part 2: Scenery Around the Dingle Peninsula

We took a car ride around the peninsula, the same "tour" we had taken with our dear Padraig Lynch in 1990. Coumenoole will always be a stunning place. It is featured in the movie "Ryan's Daughter."

Coumenoole, at the southwest tip of the Dingle Peninsula

Coumenoole

Slea Head near Coomenoole

Teeravane, north of Coomenoole; the domicile of the Ferriter family 

C and I took a boat out to Great Blasket Island, then hiked the 3-mile perimeter trail. The island was evacuated in 1952 as the government could not provide services to the small population left there. During winter storms the island could be cut off from the mainland for months at a time, even though Dunquin is only three miles across the water. The purest Irish in Ireland was spoken here. Well-loved Irish storytellers and authors, Peig Sayers and Maurice OSullivan lived much of their lives on Great Blasket. OSullivan's book, Twenty Years a-Growin' is one of my favorite books.

Great Blasket Island herd

abandoned village on Great Blasket

the village from above

beach on north end of Great Blasket

Atlantic view to the southwest from Great Blasket

our Dingle to Blasket boat is anchored at the right and the rubber raft delivered us to the landing 

boarding the raft to get back to the boat that returned us to Dingle

ocean cave on the Dingle Peninsula; even the Atlantic Ocean is green-ish on the coast of Ireland

sedum finds root in an ancient stone wall

The Emerald Isle: Part 1, Dingle and Environs

Main Street and John Street in Dingle

We had not seen this level of prosperity before

We spent a week on the Dingle Peninsula in County Kerry this summer. How much it has changed since our last visit 28 years ago (and our first visit 42 years ago)! What was once a sleepy fishing village is now a vibrant, energetic, colorful tourist spot. Huge tour busses wind down stingy narrow roads, hardly more than lanes meant for hay wagons. New homes and even whole new neighborhoods have popped up, buildings are freshly plastered and painted attractive colors, and businesses are thriving.

corner of Spa Road and Main and John Streets

My family names pop up on businesses all over town--Garvey, O'Sullivan, Murphy, Ashe, Shea, Sheehan, Brosnahan, Griffin, Kennedy, O'Connor, Baker, and so on. Not surprising, because nearly half of my ancestry comes from this area. Other loosely related names on signboards are Long, Moriarty, Walsh, Cronin, Curran, and even Walker.

 two more pictures of downtown Dingle

traffic jam on the Dingle Peninsula!

lighthouse at the entrance of Dingle Harbor

 you can still find timeworn tradition in Dingle

this centuries old bridge has a name which I now forget; one of my favorite things in the Dingle area

my third cousins; left to right, A, me, T, E; their brother J died suddenly two weeks before our arrival

 Gallarus Oratory hasn't changed in 1100 years

famine cottage a few miles west of Dingle, once owned by some Cavanaughs; my great-great grandmother was Catherine Cavanaugh from this area, but I don't know where her home was

we were accompanied by our long-time friends, B & C; we hiked up to this overlook near Dunquin 

C and B did a 75-mile bicycle ride around part of the Dingle Peninsula, including Connor Pass

we hiked up this headland (Bulls Head) above my ancestors' domicile of Kinard East; it became a tough trail, as it petered out into a mountainside of gorse, a pretty plant that deceives you with its buttery flowers--its true purpose is to afflict and torment man--and woman--with wicked inch-long sharp pokey stickers that embed themselves into clothes, shoes and socks

Bulls Head has amazing views!

Gorse, gorse and more gorse

Minard Castle east of Dingle; my 3rd great-grandmother (Nellie Wren) was born on the mountain above the castle; you used to be able to go into the castle at the peril of your life, but no more

Kilmalkedar Church, one of my favorite places anywhere, so ancient, so exquisitely built

detail of Kilmalkedar Church

Kilmalkedar Cemetery

Coming soon: Part 2, Scenery of the Dingle Peninsula

Old Doyle Family Photos

While in County Kerry, Ireland this past summer, several times I met up with a family of third cousins on the Doyle line to talk about our common ancestors. They brought me sacks of photographs to peruse, and C photographed them for me. This blog post is for all of my Doyle cousins to enjoy. I have identified people known to me, and if any of you Doyles can add to the names-dates-places or provide context, please email me at rusynsusan@gmail.com.

The pics are not in any sensible order. It is best that I get them up now rather than take the time to make this an organized post. I have more photos than shown here and will add them over time.

If any of you have Doyle-related photographs to add, send as .jpg to the email above! And feel free to invite others to view these.

EK Sullivan, S Sullivan, JF Sullivan Jr., Holyoke Massachusetts c. 1942

the woman in the middle right looks like Molly Brosnahan, and the woman front right may be Katie Brosnahan Griffin

L to R back: Tom Doyle, Francis Ashe, Anna Brosnahan, John Murphy, Molly Brosnahan; children: John F. Sullivan Jr., John Doyle (Tom's boy), Katherine Nelligan, Holyoke c. 1908

 Larry Griffin and Katie Brosnahan Griffin; baby is probably Mary Alice Griffin c. 1929

 Frances Ashe Leahey, Henry M. Leahey, child could be daughter Dorothy c. 1919

Katie Brosnahan Griffin with children Mary and Tommy, South Hadley Massachusetts c. 1931

Larry Griffin with Agnes Nelligan??? on his wedding day, Holyoke Massachusetts 1927

baby Mary Alice Griffin w/ mother Katie Brosnahan Griffin, South Hadley Massachusetts c. 1930

unknown baby and man, John F. Sullivan Jr., Holyoke Massachusetts

Jim and Frances Ashe, Holyoke Massachusetts c. 1908; Jim is my grandfather; these children were orphans being raised by their grandmother, Mama Doyle, and a tribe of relatives

John F. Sullivan Sr.?, Holyoke Massachusetts c. 1920

So Long, It's Been Good to Know Ya' . . . .

Not much to say here except that yesterday we bid goodbye to the most faithful car we have ever had, our green Toyota Sienna van. We never had an ounce of trouble with it. It hauled us around town, to the coast and mountains, and on numerous road trips to California, Washington, Idaho, Nevada and Utah.

The van is 12 years old with about 127,000 miles on it. The primary reason we sold it is that we knew eventually we would need a new vehicle, and with Craig on the brink of retirement, it seemed best to buy while he's still working, and money is coming in.

Our new car can be seen behind the Sienna--a Honda Odyssey. We switched to Honda due to their superior features, and hope and pray it runs as faithfully as did the Sienna. Some have asked why we, with no children to haul around, bought another mini-van. Well, we haul stuff around--firewood, furniture, D's returnables, home project hud from Home Depot, and people. Four of our grandchildren live nearby and the other eight come to visit. We want to have space to take them here and there without needing to rent a car.

We were sure that we liked the Honda color called Forest Mist, then decided it was too much gray and not enough green. We didn't want a gray car, or black, or blue. Silver looked boring. Honda has a brownish color I like, but from my observations the past few months, brown cars don't age well. It came down to white or red. The red is deep enough to look solidly impressive rather than sporty or flashy.

Farewell to old faithful, which has found a new home over near Mt. Tabor.

D Turns 40!

Over the decades a multitude of family, friends, acquaintances and strangers have extended themselves to look out for our son, D. He was born with a rare congenital disability called Cornelia de Lange Syndrome (CdLS), and though he is mild on the scale of the syndrome, he is daily in need of assistance, understanding and broad TLC.

I decided that for his 40th birthday we would invite over all those we could think of who know him and serve him. Unfortunately, the multitude of strangers who have stepped up to help him over the years are unknown to me--the ones who scrape him off the sidewalk when he has had a seizure, or make sure he stays safe when he is confused. I trust they have been blessed for their service to a stranger.

We held the party in our backyard with about 75 people who came to enjoy refreshments and good company. Others sent card or email wishes. The evening was happy and successful for all except D. One of the common features of CdLS is epilepsy, and on the day of his party he had three seizures before it began, and one more smack in the middle of it. Epilepsy is one big question mark as seizures strike unpredictably. Other challenges that accompany CdLS are autism, reflux, behavior issues, and the need for occupational--physical--speech therapy, all of which were part of our lives for many years. We never heard of autism until he was about 20 years old and (forgive me parents of autistic children, no offense intended) I've since thought that if I only had to deal with that one thing, life would be comparatively breezy.

The day D was born marked a huge change in our lives, though it was a while before we really comprehended that. Because CdLS is rare, he was not diagnosed until he was five and a half years old. During those years he spent a boatload of time at the doctor and hospital. So many things were wrong and sometimes it appeared he was wasting away toward death. On his first birthday he weighed all of 13 pounds. The worst part was that a few doctors thought his condition was my fault. Those few insinuated that I must be under-feeding him, or did a prodigious amount of drinking or dope smoking during D's pregnancy.

The day he was born I woke up having contractions and figured it was false labor, as he was not due for over five weeks. I did some laundry and the labor did not go away. I took my oldest next door to Vicki's to be watched during my regular weekly doc appointment. She had friends there, and as I stood at the door a major contraction slammed me and I doubled over. Friend Lois witnessed it and insisted on driving me to the doc. When we arrived the waiting room was crowded, and yikes, the doc was over at the hospital saddled with two deliveries. So we waited. And waited.

Labor became intense. The nurse was sure it was Braxton-Hicks labor. Lois held my hand as we sat there for two hours until the doc returned. I was taken in first because of my condition. He did a quick check and ordered me to not even breathe because I was about to have a baby. Lois pushed me in a wheelchair across the courtyard to the hospital. Lo and behold, there was a good friend of ours who worked with C, standing at the check-in. He dashed for his car to go fetch C from work. In the delivery room there wasn't time for any niceties. D was born not breathing and the pediatrician flew into the room to save him. C showed up a few minutes later. It was a relief to hear D finally cry.

For some years I had to fight for services for D. It was frustrating that he was labeled "failure to thrive" (the catchall term used when something is very wrong but there is no diagnosis). Shame on me, but I remember being jealous of my friend whose Down Syndrome baby was accepted for therapy immediately, because: Down Syndrome. D was acutely debilitated, yet in the 70s and 80s services were almost unavailable for a child with an ambiguous problem.

Eventually he was accepted into a therapy program, but until then I was a swimmer floundering in the deep. Life rings were in view all around, yet I nearly drowned before permission was given for someone toss one to me. Now it is recognized that disabled children must received services immediately, no matter the cause. No parent has to go begging and pleading for help, thank goodness!

Well, decades have passed with their ups and downs. D is thriving. He attends a weekly activity program for disabled adults. He volunteers at the library. He spends a day a week at our son's house helping with projects, walking the dog, attending Cub Scouts with his nephew. Our local bus service  takes him pretty much where he needs to go. D has a flourishing bottle and can business supported by neighbors all around (returnables are worth 10 cents here!).

In the quarterly periodical sent out by the CdLS Foundation I read a parent's story about his seriously disabled child. After summing up the challenges the family faced, he concluded by expressing his deep love for his child, and said something like, "I just don't know how we could live without him." Yup, my sentiments exactly!

A Visit To the LBJ Presidential Library

Earlier this week we visited the LBJ Presidential Library on the campus of the University of Texas in Austin. What an insight into his personal and political life it was, and into his motives and principles and personality. LBJ was the President of the United States 1963-1969, a time period that encompasses my growth from childhood to mid-adolescence. I well remember when he took the oath of office aboard Air Force One under terrible terrible circumstances, and the chaotic and trying events that hammered our country during his presidency.

oath of office on Air Force One, November 22, 1963; this photo gives me a catch in my throat every time I see it

My strongest recollection of LBJ occurred when I was in eighth grade. On March 31, 1968, I was in my bedroom working on a school geography assignment at my desk. Mom and Dad called for me to come into the living room right away. LBJ was addressing the nation on TV about the future of the Vietnam War, then shocked Americans by announcing he would not seek nor accept the nomination for a second term as president. He appeared noticably older than his 59 years. It was the Vietnam War that did it. An unwinnable war, it was proving nearly impossible to extract ourselves from Southeast Asia. Here is LBJ addressing the nation that night. His feelings about a second term are voiced beginning at about 39 minutes. Modern Commanders-in-Chief should regard their role in as dignified a manner as LBJ did.

Our visit to the Library gave me a considerable appreciation for his accomplishments, which were many. His Great Society--civil rights, Medicare / Medicaid--and the War on Poverty have had long-reaching effects for Americans. I'm no Democrat, but all of these triumphs are appreciated by Americans of all persuasions and have enhanced the quality of life for all.

LBJ was known for his dynamic, forceful nature, and his unique way of relating to people, called "the Johnson treatment." He was a large man, 6' 3" tall, and at least 200 pounds. He charged ahead to get what he wanted, and left no doubt in the minds of his co-workers that he expected them to join his crusades. See below!

"the Johnson treatment"

When you enter the library you are greeted with an actual presidential limo parked in the lobby. The various rooms are dedicated to particular aspects of LBJ's presidency. Some of the displays portray the cultural context of the times. There are telephones on the wall that play recorded conversations he had with various political figures. I enjoyed listening to some of those. In the multi-story gallery are all the presidential portraits along with those of the first ladies. I believe I was gazing at Barbara Bush's portrait right about the time she passed away.

Our time at the library and museum was well spent.

LBJ Presidential Library, University of Texas in Austin