Wednesday, 25 May 2016
As I sit here today, preparing for a golf tournament this afternoon, I can't help but reflect on meeting Karen James last night. Karen is a descendant of Michael McGrath and Catherine Brennan - our mutual great great grandparents. Not much is known of Michael or Catherine, but the search goes on.
With research we have come to the conclusion that Michael and Catherine both came from the Clough, Castlecomer area of County Kilkenny. I have a copy of the record of the marriage of Catherine's parents John Brennan and Ellen/Eleanor Walsh from the parish church in the parish of Castlecomer. The date was 15 November, 1830. John was living in the townland of Crutt but Ellen's homeplace was not given. No parents names were given but the witnesses were Martin Phelan and Judith (Judy) Neil.
Baptisms of their children shed only a little light on the matter as it is obvious they were not baptized soon after birth. The oldest child was Margaret, and her baptism was recorded as 20 August 1838. Sponsors were John Walshe and Margaret Nolan. At the time the family was living in Clough and the mother's name was given as Eleanor Walshe.
Two years later we have Catherine baptised on 25 May 1840, with parents John Brennan and Elenor Walsh who were living in Coolalean. Sponsors were Edmond Comerford and Catherine Comerford.
The same year, a few months later on 10 September 1840, son James Brennan was baptised. Parents were listed as John Brennan and Elenor Walshe still living at Coolalean. Sponsors were Patrick Kavanagh and Catherine Murphy.
The youngest child was William, baptized 20 January 1842. Parents were listed as John Brennan and Ellen Walsh, living at Clough. Sponsors were Robert Nolan and Mary Walsh. The townland was given as Coolaline which I suppose was the same as Coolaleen.
I think, now that I've revisited this information which I got from Rothe House, Kilkenny, I'm going to look more into the sponsors. Catholic parish records are now indexed and online at ancestry.com so perhaps I'll turn up something helpful.
Catherine and Margaret Brennan stayed in Bytown, later Ottawa. Catherine married Michael McGrath in 1854 at the age of 17 - working backwards from her age at death. This means she would have been born in 1837. John Brennan died sometime before 1848 because in that year his widow Eleanor/Ellen, now known as Helen, remarried to a John Doyle. No sign has been found so far of the boys James or William. They were not living with Helen and John Doyle in the 1851 census taken in Ottawa. They would still have been quite a bit too young to be on their own. It is possible they worked as labourers or maybe apprentices to trade, but so far no luck finding them.
Anyway, I have digressed. Karen and I have basically the same information on the descendants of Michael and Catherine. Our records differ on the parents of Michael McGrath. Records are hard to come by. There is a family of McGraths in Ottawa at the same time who seem to be known to our family over the years, but the parents were married in County Wicklow. Another mystery for another day.
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Sunday, May 22 2016
As I sit here with my very large mug of coffee I'm mentally preparing to meet tomorrow with a McGrath cousin. Tomorrow evening we're getting together for the first time. We've exchanged messages on Ancestry.com and know already that we have a great great grandfather in common - Michael McGrath. Both of us have been working on the family history and I'm excited to meet with Karen. DNA testing has confirmed our connection exactly.
Our trees coincide in most facts but there are some areas that I'm anxious to explore because we have different information. I'm certainly willing to change what I have with sufficient proof. Genealogy is a wonderful pastime, giving voice to those who came before. I just want to be sure I've claimed the right ancestors.
I've made a bit more progress in the stories of Aggie McGrath Sunderland, my under-appreciated grandmother. This is her family. I'm sure Karen has lots of information on her branch. She is descended from a sibling of Edward Patrick (Ned) McGrath, my great-grandfather. I think I'll dig up a few pictures to share and hope that maybe she'll do the same.
Now that the weather has finally become "seasonally appropriate" the golf course calls me more frequently. I'm about to answer the call again today so will sign off for now.
As I sit here with my very large mug of coffee I'm mentally preparing to meet tomorrow with a McGrath cousin. Tomorrow evening we're getting together for the first time. We've exchanged messages on Ancestry.com and know already that we have a great great grandfather in common - Michael McGrath. Both of us have been working on the family history and I'm excited to meet with Karen. DNA testing has confirmed our connection exactly.
Our trees coincide in most facts but there are some areas that I'm anxious to explore because we have different information. I'm certainly willing to change what I have with sufficient proof. Genealogy is a wonderful pastime, giving voice to those who came before. I just want to be sure I've claimed the right ancestors.
I've made a bit more progress in the stories of Aggie McGrath Sunderland, my under-appreciated grandmother. This is her family. I'm sure Karen has lots of information on her branch. She is descended from a sibling of Edward Patrick (Ned) McGrath, my great-grandfather. I think I'll dig up a few pictures to share and hope that maybe she'll do the same.
Now that the weather has finally become "seasonally appropriate" the golf course calls me more frequently. I'm about to answer the call again today so will sign off for now.
Sunday, May 15, 2016
May 15th, 2016 and little progress has been made. I seem to have been distracted by life in general and golf in particular.
My current project is writing about my grandmother, Agnes Sunderland. I have asked for input from my siblings and cousins and pretty much anyone who knew her. We all have our memories and different perspectives - all positive.
Hearing from others and what they remember has jogged my own memory. Sometimes I think that the story will never end as things come to mind at unlikely moments. I had completely forgotten about the humbugs and peppermint patties. Nanny always had some of these in her room as treats. She particularly loved humbugs. Can you still buy these candies? I liked them but they were never my favourite.
Memories of her seem to revolve around food in some way. Every summer she would make pickles and chili sauce. I hated the smell as she stewed the sauce as it pervaded almost the entire house. Maybe it was her way of making me go outside to play. If the weather wasn't nice I'd go down to the basement to escape the smell. I still can't eat either one.
My current project is writing about my grandmother, Agnes Sunderland. I have asked for input from my siblings and cousins and pretty much anyone who knew her. We all have our memories and different perspectives - all positive.
Hearing from others and what they remember has jogged my own memory. Sometimes I think that the story will never end as things come to mind at unlikely moments. I had completely forgotten about the humbugs and peppermint patties. Nanny always had some of these in her room as treats. She particularly loved humbugs. Can you still buy these candies? I liked them but they were never my favourite.
Memories of her seem to revolve around food in some way. Every summer she would make pickles and chili sauce. I hated the smell as she stewed the sauce as it pervaded almost the entire house. Maybe it was her way of making me go outside to play. If the weather wasn't nice I'd go down to the basement to escape the smell. I still can't eat either one.
Friday, April 29, 2016
Today is April 29, 2016. I have just begun this blog with a view to tracking my own voyages in search of my family history. No matter where I go there is usually an element of looking back at my ancestors and how they experienced life, both where they came from and in their new homes when they emigrated. My deep family roots are in Ireland, England and France. DNA testing indicates that there are elements of Scandinavia (probably ancestors of the Irish and English) and Eastern Europe (was my ggg grandfather who settled in Bradford, England really a gypsy, or traveler as the story was passed down in England?). I started this journey in 2004 and it will never end. My fondest hope is that one of the younger members of the family may one day decide to pick up where I left off.
My base is in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada but I frequently make short and long trips in search of further information. Local trips include Prescott and Brockville along the Canadian side of the St Lawrence River, and Ogdensburg, Morristown and Massena on the American side.
Local libraries, archives and historical societies have proven invaluable sources of information. A lot of my searching is also done online with various free and paid databases. Social media has been helpful and has led to the discovery of cousins and helpful historians and genealogists along the way, to say nothing of hearing the success stories and family tales of fellow family historians.
From time to time I will post things out of order - when I want to focus on a particular adventure even if it happened some time ago.
I enjoy helping others to trace their roots. However, I won't be including those experiences in this blog.
The paddlers in this photo are my mother at the back, and her cousin Pat at the front of the canoe. This was on the Rideau River just off the point of Nicoll's Island in the 1930s. It just seemed like a fitting picture to start this blog. Their journey was a short one but you have to start somewhere.
I spent all my summers at this place until I was 12 years old. My mother and Pat had done likewise. The land where the tents, and later cottages, were erected was leased by my great grandfather E.P. McGrath in 1909. I still have the original lease on linen paper. The McGraths were well known and loved in this area, near Manotick, and in Ottawa where E.P. (Ned) McGrath was an alderman on Ottawa City Council.
On the land in the background, not part of the island, was a farm where foxes were raised for fur. You can see the pens. It was long gone by the time I was old enough to create memories, but the stories lingered. Apparently it was from this area that some of those who worked in the city and made their way south to this spot, would walk along a path down to the river and shout until someone heard them and came over with a boat or canoe to pick them up.
My base is in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada but I frequently make short and long trips in search of further information. Local trips include Prescott and Brockville along the Canadian side of the St Lawrence River, and Ogdensburg, Morristown and Massena on the American side.
Local libraries, archives and historical societies have proven invaluable sources of information. A lot of my searching is also done online with various free and paid databases. Social media has been helpful and has led to the discovery of cousins and helpful historians and genealogists along the way, to say nothing of hearing the success stories and family tales of fellow family historians.
From time to time I will post things out of order - when I want to focus on a particular adventure even if it happened some time ago.
I enjoy helping others to trace their roots. However, I won't be including those experiences in this blog.
I spent all my summers at this place until I was 12 years old. My mother and Pat had done likewise. The land where the tents, and later cottages, were erected was leased by my great grandfather E.P. McGrath in 1909. I still have the original lease on linen paper. The McGraths were well known and loved in this area, near Manotick, and in Ottawa where E.P. (Ned) McGrath was an alderman on Ottawa City Council.
On the land in the background, not part of the island, was a farm where foxes were raised for fur. You can see the pens. It was long gone by the time I was old enough to create memories, but the stories lingered. Apparently it was from this area that some of those who worked in the city and made their way south to this spot, would walk along a path down to the river and shout until someone heard them and came over with a boat or canoe to pick them up.
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