Favourite Name - important name

Ah, now here's a subject that can drive genealogists to pull out their hair. 

For the past 15 years since I started reconstructing the family tree, I've mumbled and grumbled about the fact that the same names were used in every family. If the Irish naming pattern were strictly adhered to, this is how children would be named.

Sons

1. The eldest son was named after the child’s paternal grandfather.

2. The second son was named after that child’s maternal grandfather.

3. The third son was named after the father.

4. The fourth son was named after the child’s eldest paternal uncle.

5. Subsequent sons were named after other paternal uncles, in order of the age of the uncles.

Daughters

1. The eldest daughter was named after the child’s maternal grandmother.

2. The second daughter was named after the child’s paternal grandmother.

3. The third daughter was named after the mother.

4. The fourth daughter was named after the child’s eldest maternal aunt.

5. Subsequent daughters were named after other maternal aunts, in order of the age of the aunts.

The family no longer follows the naming pattern although some of the same familiar names have found their way into more recent generations. My name is Mary Ann although I've only ever been called Ann. There are over a dozen women among my various levels of grandmothers, with one or both of my names, yet my parents always claimed I was not named after anyone in particular.  

Among my siblings, only Thomas (Tom) was named explicitly for his paternal grandfather and great-grandfather. Maureen's second name was Rita after our mother; and Don's second name is Robert, after our father.

In the Byrne line for instance, my ggg grandfather was Arthur. Of his seven married children, all had sons named Arthur but few of his great-grandsons were named Arthur. The name has not been used in our direct family line for a couple of generations. It is still used among distant cousins.

It was the names Edward, George and Arthur that contributed to thinking/knowing that when we met the Byrne family in Ireland, that we had actually met people we are related to. Subsequent research and a DNA test proved the connection. 

In the Sunderland line, it was the use of Stansfield as a forename that helped decide if I was looking at the right family. Sadly the last Stansfield passed away in 1915 but it was important in establishing the right family.

Making sense of the census

The census is pretty much the bread and butter resource for finding your family. Sometimes they are not where you expected to find them. Sometimes they're in the place you expected, but you can't find them because the enumerator had such awful handwriting that the indexer didn't get the name right. When the name isn't spelled correctly or interpreted correctly when indexing, the family might not be found in a search.

My Walsh ancestors were well hidden until I was looking for one of the sons rather than the parents, and there they all were. Everyone's surname was Walsh but for reasons I'll never understand, the parents' surname was interpreted as "Naesh" and the children were "Walsh". I don't mean to chastise someone who had voluntarily undertaken the task. But if a group of people are all at the same address you would think that if the surnames looked similar they must be the same. In this particular case, only the father's surname was written and his wife and children's surnames were indicated with ditto marks. That did not deter the indexer from transcribing the parents as Naesh and the children as Walsh.

Other folks are there and the surnames are ALMOST correct yet they are not found in a search. In the case of the Fennell family the name was spelled with only one final letter 'l'. However, the person doing the indexing thought the last letter was 'e' instead, resulting in a pronunciation of "Fennie". I only found the family in browsing the entire listing for Elizabethtown (Brockville), while looking for someone else.

Family dinners

There are no stories that have been passed down about family dinners prior to my generation.

There is one picture of my great grand uncle George Burns and his family in Ogdensburg, New York, USA, with his family around the dinner table. To be sure that all the children were included, there is a picture of a son who was not there, on the table.

Burns family at dinner, Ogdensburg, NY, circa 1921: Left to right: George(father), Jen, Mary, Anne, Elizabeth Foster Burns (mother), Martin, Kate and Thomas. There is a photo of Jim on the table.

Apparently Elizabeth (Foster) Burns was a good cook. At one point she was a cook at a lumber camp where George was working shortly after their marriage. Son Thomas was born in the camp. This must have been a special occasion, note the fancy folded napkins.

We had family dinners every evening in the kitchen. On holidays and birthdays we ate in the dining room. Occasionally close relatives or family friends would join us. Mom always made a big deal of these occasions, making sure there was an appropriate seasonal tablecloth and centrepiece. We used the "good" dishes. For almost every holiday we had turkey with all the trimmings. For dessert there was usually only once choice on weekdays and weekends, but holidays often brought out some choices.

For the past 40 or so years, our go-to dessert was "chocolate log". This is the recipe on the box of Christie's chocolate wafers. Whipped cream, sweetened with a little bit of sugar and vanilla, was spread between the wafers and the whole thing formed into a log. We wouldn't think of having a family dinner without it.

For many years there was also Pecan Pie - made with Ritz crackers and crushed pecans, topped with whipped cream which softened the pie. It was not the gooey pecan pie one usually finds available in stores and restaurants. Often there were fruit pies, the specialties being raspberry or strawberry-rhubarb. The rhubarb was from our garden.

Longevity on both sides

How old were our oldest ancestors when they passed away?

We have no centenarians in my direct line, or even among the siblings of my direct ancestors. The oldest were in their 90s. In descending order from longest-lived to merely age 90, are listed here in descending order of age. Without a specific date of death for some, I have used only the number of years between year of birth and year of death and not taken into account specific dates.

Mary Elena (Tickie) McGrath: born in Ottawa in 1894; died in Ottawa in 1988. Tickie was my longest living ancestor. She was the younger sister of my grandmother. She was 94 when she died.

Ann Sunderland Bowen: born in Bradford, Yorkshire, England in 1879; died in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada in 1973. Annie was also 94.

Serena (Irene) Sunderland Madill Cade: born in Ottawa, in 1890; died in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada in 1984. Like her sister Annie, Irene was 94.

Mary Elizabeth Jean Burns: born in Ottawa in 1915; died in Ottawa in 2009. Jean was 93.

Arthur Byrne: born 1792 in Ireland; died 1884 in Throoptown, Grenville County, Ontario, Canada
Arthur was a wagon maker and tenant farmer on the Coollattin Estate of Earl Fitzwilliam in the 1820s, 30s and early 40s. He moved his family to Canada in 1847 and settled in Throoptown. According to various census records, the family home in Throoptown was a shanty. He survived extreme poverty, a couple of famines, and rough conditions in Ireland and Canada. So far, nobody among his descendants has lived as long as Arthur.

Eliza(beth) Kehoe: born about 1802 in Ireland; died in 1892 in Throoptown. She was Arthur's wife.

Edward Byrne/Burns: born about 1822 in Coolross, Clonegal, Wicklow, Ireland, was Arthur's son. He lived to be 90 years old. Edward came to Ontario with the family in 1847, worked and married in the US for a few years, and returned to Ontario in time for the 1861 census. After retiring as a farmer, he went blind, and moved with his wife Eliza McCullough, into the town of Brockville. Their last home at 93 James Street is still there in 2018.

Bert Dennis Madill: he was the son of Serena (Irene) Sunderland and Granville Madill. Bert was born in Edmonton. Alberta, Canada in 1923 and died there in 2013 at the age of 90.

52 ancestors in 52 weeks

Well like all good procrastinators, I came late to the party. But, I hope to start now and over the next few weeks, catch up with the crowd. The idea to stoke the fires of family history writing, is from Amy Johnson Crow's 52 ancestors in 52 weeks. Each week a new topic will be put forth and the followers are to share by writing or blogging or posting comments about it, possibly on Facebook.

Amy is very good at suggestions for capturing family stories and how to proceed in many aspects of our hobby. This year her mission is to get us to record memories in different ways. Hopefully each topic will lead not only to another topic, but possibly to multiple stories on that topic over time.

Family Photographs

The first actual writing was in Week 2 and the topic was Family Photograph. I have many to choose from - more than some folks and fewer than others. It was difficult to choose so I decided on two related pictures that could be described fairly briefly. I'll get better at this as I go - at least that is the expectation.

Two pictures of the same store. The one on the left from left to right: Harry Donovan, Thomas Leonard Burns, Thomas J Burns. The photo above is Harry Donovan at another time, showing more of the front of the store.


Growing up in Brockville, my Dad, Robert Leonard (Bob) Burns, loved visiting his Grandfather's store on King St in Brockville. His Grandpa, Thomas J. Burns, was a butcher, then a Customs Officer, and after he retired, opened a second butcher shop and grocery store very close to where the first had been.

The reason for opening a second store, was to provide employment for his son Edward. Tom feared that Edward would not find other employment as he was a bit of a loser. Edward was widowed, and had a young daughter to support. He served briefly in WWII but after discharge he was rather footloose.

Meanwhile, Tom Jr. had a good career with the government in Ottawa and was providing well for his young and growing family. He had no plans to follow in Tom Sr's footsteps. However, things don't always work out as planned and the family bond was very strong.

Edward remarried in 1924 and died suddenly a month later. Thomas Sr did not wish to continue alone and asked his son Tom if he'd move back to Brockville and work with him. Feeling that strong family bond, and with wonderful memories of his hometown, he resigned from his good-paying job and moved the family to Brockville.

This store was the site of many a good turn. Tom Sr would never turn away anyone looking for something to eat. He allowed his customers to buy on credit. Many never paid their bills. It also seems to have been the local story-telling centre. Tom's brother William, known as Will, had gone blind, apparently after having been kicked by a horse or literally falling off a wagon. [I will check that out.] He learned his way from home to the store and spent most days holding court with all who dropped by. Most of his stories were tall tales, made up in the moment. Some are really amusing.

Tom Sr, passed away in 1933. For a few years his son tried to carry on the business, but eventually it failed. He returned to Ottawa in 1936 and once settled in a new job, brought the family back there to live. Tom Jr passed away in 1941.

To use GPS or not to use GPS - that was the question.

Leaving Moss Cottage in the rear view mirror I headed out the lane and down Hospital Hill, waving good-bye to Bunclody. My bags were packed and I was heading to my intermediate stop for lunch with the girls at the Chester Beatty Inn, Ashford.

I've made the trip many times and quite confidently left the bossy little talking machine uplugged and sitting on the passenger seat. The only diversion was to not take the narrow road from Ballycarney to Ferns, and take the N80 to the roundabout instead. It really doesn't take any longer and while not as scenic perhaps, it was fully cleared of snow. I didn't know if the same could be said for the route past my favourite thatched roof. There were excellent views of the hills and later the Wicklow mountains. There's still lots of snow on them thar hills. There were no opportunities to pull over and take pictures.

I made excellent time and arrived early at the destination so after checking that the Stephens were home, drove to Rossanna Farm where I deposited a bag of foodstuffs I'd not consumed, along with a small shopping bag of items I'll retrieve on my next visit.

The subject of "the tree" came up and I was treated to a ride in Eugene's jeep, wearing a pair of available wellies (my size!!!), over to see the spreading chestnut tree. It is featured in a book of the best trees in Ireland by Aubrey Fennell. Sadly he's not one of my Fennells.

This beast of a tree has the largest circumference of any tree in the Emerald Isle. It's arguably also the most gnarled as well. Guarded by attack geese, it sits in solitary splendour in a field often used for equestrian events. Indeed it lives up to its reputation as being worthy of viewing - if not very accessible except to those who know how to get there. Thank you Eugene.

Subsequently, Margaret and I headed to the Inn where Anne O was waiting and Lynne L soon happened along. We dined well and caught up on our news for almost 3 hours.

At 4:30 it was time to head to the airport and my hotel for the night. I had not updated my GPS with new maps and it didn't recognize the hotel name. My Irish smart phone was playing dumb and refused to admit I had data available. Now what? Lynne to the rescue. Google maps showed that one had merely to take the M11 (nearby) which turned into the M50 and follow it to the large roundabout at the airport. Instead of taking the airport exit (first one) I was to take the third exit to R139 and that would take me to the hotel.

What a brilliant plan that turned out to be. Almost too good to be true, it was so easy. The last time I was part of an attempt to reach the Clayton Airport Hotel, following a very bossy app, we ended up driving in circles, always returning to the M50 and not reaching the hotel for quite some time. This time it came up so fast on the next roundabout that I almost missed the hotel sign. What I did miss was the first exit to the hotel at the roundabout, so I merely drove all the way around and exited as if that had been the plan all along. Almost shades of the Grisewalds' European Vacation but I did get off the roundabout at the correct exit, after the exploratory trip all the way around.

Checking in was quick and easy, directions to the airport to return the car were easy, and returning the vehicle was easy. I got the Hertz shuttle to the terminal, walked to Area 16 and within a few minutes the hotel shuttle showed up and ferried me back to the Clayton.

I'm now happily relaxing with my tiny perfect bottle of wine and will shortly call it a night. After a few weeks in a single bed, I'm looking forward to enjoying this queen size beauty tonight. I've redistributed the contents of the two small suitcases, making one quite heavy - to be checked baggage, and the other quite light - to be heaved into the overhead bin.

That dear reader, ends my 2018 Winter journey to Ireland. Barring the unforeseen, I shall wing my way home tomorrow TO FRESH SNOW. NOOOOOOOOO.

There seems to be a problem with the wifi being incredibly slow to upload pictures from the phone so I'll add a final post in a day or two with a link to a selection of pictures.

Farewell until next time ...

Bright sun, cloudless skies, and a couple of packed bags

Well here I am, coffee at hand, and it's my last day in Bunclody. The sun is shining, the snow has all but gone from the yard and apparently the roads are clear from here to Dublin. Well, they're clear if you take the right roads. My route will be somewhat altered to exclude the run from Ballycarney to Ferns. I'll drive a little farther south on the N80 to the roundabout at Enniscorthy and then loop back north on the N11 towards Dublin. I will miss nodding to Ferns Castle as I loop around the town on the highway.

Congratulations are in order for the entire country in dealing with massive amounts of snow with minimal amounts of equipment. Only Dublin airport had what appeared to be lots of plows, and even then got shut down. There was just no getting ahead of Storm Emma until she was good and ready. She took her time exacting her toll. It will take massive amounts of money to pay the bills and that does not include the time and fuel spent by innumerable farmers who cleared back roads and lanes so that their neighbours could get out for supplies. This is on top of caring for sheep and cattle who had to be brought in from the fields and dealt with constantly as the water pipes froze. Carrying buckets of water for livestock is nobody's idea of fun. In the midst of the chaos there were baby lambs whose arrival could not wait for the weather to clear. Undoubtedly many calves also made their first appearance as snow piled up around the sheds.

Grocery store shelves are once again stocked with bread and milk. I learned that while chocolate hazelnut milk is not ideal for coffee, it will do in a pinch. As an aside, it doesn't impart a lovely chocolate hazelnut flavour to the beverage at all and in fact, is not as sweet as plain milk. However, as my only hardship, this is meant as a comment not a complaint.

The strains of "Leaving on a jet plane" are rolling around in my head. I can't quite say "my bags are packed" but it's getting close. I've parted company with the big purple suitcase and many of the clothes that I've grown more than a little tired of here. Will I manage to get everything destined for Canada into the two carry-ons? One will be my checked bag and is bursting at the seams. As long as those seams hold tight for the journey I'll be content.

Yesterday I had a lovely salmon dinner at noon with Kathy D at the Carnew Community Care centre. After we'd finished eating, the gentleman sitting opposite me began his spiel as the local matchmaker. Say what? He finally decided, sensing my lack of interest, that I'd be too difficult to match up anyway. Whew!

In the evening I had a wonderful supper with Kevin and Eleanor Lee and their grand-daughter Millie. Kevin surprised me with news that he has access to some uncatalogued documents which may provide, for sure, the name of the ship my Byrne ancestors sailed on, and how much money they were given for their passage and for settling in Canada. Will the ship turn out to be the Progress? If so, it could pretty much confirm my assumption that it was "our" William who died at Grosse Ile. It may also reveal whether baby Jane made it on board the ship, or perished before the family sailed. Fingers crossed. I'll send him enough information so he knows it's the right family.

There are just a few tidy-up chores to finish here at Moss Cottage. The biggest is stuffing the suitcases. My return visit is already shaping up in my head so we'll see how the planning works out and whether and when I set foot again on Irish soil. So many mysteries remain.

Shortly before noon I'll load the car and head for Ashford to meet Margaret, Anne and Lynne at the Chester Beatty Inn for a late lunch. After that it will be a drive on the always-busy M50 to return the rental car and check into the Clayton Hotel for a relaxing night before departure. Given the potential for getting snarled in rush hour traffic tomorrow morning, I decided to spend my last night in expensive comfort. I have my single-serving bottle of Merlot packed and the cheese and crackers will join it shortly.

There may be a follow-up post before I take wing, or maybe not. All in all it has been a wonderful visit once again. I explored more wonders of this country that I've come to consider my second home. With castles around every corner and beauty everywhere you look, I'm already deciding where I'll point the car on the next visit.