Christmas in June

    I always look forward to the first Sunday in June.  No, it’s not a holiday or anniversary; it is however, the last day of “Fairport, New York Canal Days” and most importantly, (to me anyway), the final day of the great Fairport Library book sale!

     I adore books, always have, especially cheap ones.  Any of you who read my blog know how I’ve sung the praises of Google Books, which are free--you can't get much cheaper than free.  I also recommend Amazon’s used book option, great books at a fraction of the cost and I've never had a bad experience.  The Fairport sale is another favorite of mine.  Sunday is remarkable; on this final day of the sale as many books as you can fit in a grocery store sized paper bag are $3.  Heck, you can't get a gallon of gas for $3, at least not where I live.

      Actually you buy the bag on entry and then fill it from the stacks and stacks of donated books and library discards.  This usually provides me with enough reading material for the year when supplemented with the other sources.  Among my many finds yesterday were Handbook on Irish Genealogy, The Genealogist’s Companion and Sourcebook, A History of Irish Fairies and a little number called Bright Lights Big Ass.  Hey, I can’t be scholarly all the time; it’s summer, time to kick back with some trashy humor.

     I also picked up several family histories that have nothing to do with my family, but I enjoy seeing how others have chosen to present their family stories and even though they aren’t about my relatives, they do describe an era they lived in.  Libraries usually advertise their sales on the net, so watch for them this summer.  Larger cities naturally have larger sales, but some good books can be picked up even at small sales. 

Church Record Sunday / Celebrating Children's Day

     When I began researching my family many years ago I naturally read all the old local newspapers I could lay my hands on.  One of the things I discovered was, "Children's Day".  Who knew?  When I used to ask my Mother why there was a Mother's Day and Father's Day but no Children's Day she always said, "because every day is children's day, that's why, now eat your lima beans".

     Lo and behold, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the second Sunday in June was set aside as... Children's Day!  First celebrated in June of 1856 at the Universalist Church in Chelsea, Massachusetts, by 1868  Children's Day had gone nationwide.

     Churches observed it as a day to be thankful for their children and rededicate those children to Christianity.  The postcard shown here was one of my Ebay finds.  It shows the altar decorated for Children's Day, 1908 by the children themselves; members of my 3nd great aunt Flora Post's Sunday school class at the Manchester Methodist/Episcopal Church.  The card is actually in her handwriting!

     Flora was the daughter of Paul Worden and Louisa Wheat, and the sister of my 2nd great grandmother Mary Worden Warner.  All of them lived in Manchester, New York, Flora only steps from the church whose altar is pictured here.  

     Flora had no children of her own and to tell you the truth it sounds like she was kinda stuffy.  Her husband lived in a nearby city where he held some sort of position with the church, which may explain why there were no children; he did visit from time to time however. Flora amused herself by teaching Sunday School, boarding old maid school teachers and joining societies like the Women's Christian Temperance Union.  But who am I to judge?

     Sadly enough, Children's Day, like so many other good ideas, has gone the way of soda fountains and prizes that don't stink in your box of Cracker Jack.  However, the UN now recognizes a Universal Children's Day on November 20, so maybe it will make a comeback.

Why Can't We All Play Nice?

   This morning I found a note in my email from an O’Dwyer cousin on the west coast, thanking me for my encouragement over the past year.  That got me thinking… let me say firstly, my online escapades have been a delight -- for the most part.  I’ve met cousins who live locally and far away, along with suspected cousins.  We’ve enjoyed helping each other, sharing our successes and  bemoaning our brick walls -- for the most part.

     Then there were the…hmm, how should I put this...the flakes.  Like the cousin I’ll call Helen, because that’s her name.  Helen had lots of information, including the parish of my O’Hora 3^rd great grandfather.  Unfortunately, she would have rather had her tonsils removed through her nose with a rusty corkscrew than impart that information to me; though naturally she was very eager to “share” my information.  In the same family line another cousin took everything I was willing to share, then never answered another email I sent.  I know she’s still out there, I see her on the message boards suckering other people.

    Then there was the Warner cousin who emailed me in a state of euphoria to say he’d seen my post on a message board and lived very close to me.  He wanted to share information, adding that he had photos!  Well, that got me a little euphoric too, but when I asked when he might like to get together he disappeared from the face of the planet.

     This vexes me to no end.  I enjoy sharing what I’ve found with others who I know will appreciate what I’m sending them, not to mention heap praise upon me and my sleuthing skills.  I certainly understand not wanting to share personal information, I don’t want to either, and I never to ask for that.  I don’t ever suggest meeting anywhere but a public restaurant or coffee shop, which by the way is where I met my 90 year old cousin Orville, a dear man who told me wonderful stories of when he and my grandmother were young.

     Now for the gems -- along with Orville there is Cousin Rita from Georgia who met with me (in a coffee shop), when she visited New York.  Rita shared everything she had, bless her heart, which was quite a lot.  Rita had records she had commissioned from Ireland!  She was thrilled when I gave her the information I had found on the death of my 3rd great grandmother, information that she and stingy Helen had been searching for.  No, I did not give those records to Helen.  Rita, who was also tired of her curmudgeonly behavior by then, didn't either.  A little genealogy drama there.
 

Cousin Jack and me

     There was Cousin Ken who saw my post on a Ryan message board and out of the blue sent me digital copies of his grandmother’s Ryan family photos and her handwritten notes on our family. Another great cousin is Jack who freely shares what he has, including photos of our McGarr ancestors.  Over the years Jack has been a wonderful companion in our frustrating search for them, which only recently came to fruition.  I broke my own rule and met him and his lovely wife at their home, but by then we had been corresponding for over a decade.

     In closing let me reiterate, for every Helen I’ve run into there are ten Orvills, Ritas, Kens and Jacks.  They’ve been a joy to hang out with in cyber space and have helped advance my genealogy tremendously.  I decided long ago I will not let a few bad apples, or selfish strawberries (?) deter me from doing what I love, discovering and sharing my heritage. 

Funeral Card Friday /S.S.G. David L. Fennessey

     Another card, or rather, more like a small booklet, found in my O'Hora Grandmother's Bible after it passed to me.  

     Army Staff Sergeant David Lee Fennessey from Buffalo, NY, died in Vietnam in 1967 at the age of 22.  His tour of duty had started only 3 weeks before he was killed by small arms fire in Bien Hoa Province.

Thankful Thursday / Village Clerks

     Years ago, before I had ascertained the Irish townland of my Ryan clan, I found myself in the office of the Canandaigua, NY village clerk.  I was there to purchase a copy of my 4th great aunt Mary Ryan Sheehan's death certificate in the hopes that the space for her birthplace would hold something more than the word Ireland.  I had checked all her brothers and sisters certificates and she was my last possibility.

     I went to the office in person rather than send to the state for it, and if you have ever ordered a certificate from the Great State of New York, you know why.  The last one I ordered took a year to arrive, the others a mere 6 to 9 months.  I can get one from Ireland in under 3 weeks for cryin' out loud!

     I filled out the form and handed it back to the clerk, who disappeared into the mysterious recesses that hold all the information we genealogists would give our right arms for, OK... that may be hyperbole, but we'd give alot.  I don't know about you, but my wildest fantasies involve a flashlight and a night in a deserted clerk's office.  

     When the clerk returned she had the book containing the certificate in her hands at which point she said to me, "I don't know if you really want to buy this, all it says is she came from Ireland and her parents were Alice O'Dwyer and Cornelius Ryan, you already know all that."  Then this incredibly awesome , kind, considerate, (I can't think of enough adjectives to do her justice),  woman let me look for myself!  I was stunned!  And grateful, the certificate also held Mary's cause of death that I hadn't know when I entered the office.  In case you are wondering, it was double pneumonia.

     In another village, the clerk is an old schoolmate of mine who pretty much lets me look at whatever I'd like to, I am exceedingly fond of that woman.

     This is in stark contrast to another clerk, in another village which shall remain nameless, (oh what the heck, it was Palmyra), who refused to even check to see if she had the record I needed unless I forked over $22.  Mind you I had the exact death date, there was no need for a search, and I had been taken in earlier by the same person when she didn't have a 1940 death certificate I needed that should have been there. After a call to her boss to whom I explained if they didn't have the record, I would have to spend an additional $22 to get it from the state, I did get the assurance they had the certificate. That's right, I'm not afraid to go over the head of anyone who stands between me and the information I want need.
 
     At any rate, today I am thankful for the great ones, the clerks who understand that our passion for family history may sometimes exceed our budgets and accommodate us when they can.  Hats off to you!

Wordless Wednesday / USS H J Ellison

This was going to be wordless, but I have too much to say, (smile).



Part of the crew of the HJ Ellison on their 1953 cruise, my Dad is next to the officer on the right.  His younger brother was also on the ship.   As you may well imagine if you have read my blog, September 4 was the highlight of the trip!

Itnerary

Departed, Norfolk, VA 24 April 1953 Oran, Algeria 7 May 1953 Calgleri, Sardinia 12 May 1953 Golfe Juan, France 23 May 1953 Trieste, F. T. T. 28 May 1953 Ancona, Italy 13 June 1953 Bari, Italy 17 June 1953 Athens, Greece 21 June 1953 Kavalla, Greece 25 June 1953 Istanbul, Turkey 30 June 1953 Golf Juan, France 8 July 1953 Gibraltar, B. B. C. 11 July 1953 Plymouth, England 15 July 1953 Bordeaux, France 24 July 1953 Torquay, England 1 Aug 1953 Bremerhaven, Germany 11 Aug 1953 Odda, Norway 15 Aug 1953 Esbjerg, Denmark 20 Aug 1953 Invergordon, Scotland 28 Aug 1953 Londonderry, Ireland 4 Sept 1953 Bremerhaven, Germany 24 Sept 1953 Amsterdam, Holland 29 Sept 1953 Plymouth, England 6 Oct 1953 Arrived, Norfolk, VA 19 Oct 1953

Those Who Never Retreated From the Clash of Spears

     "Riamh Nar Dhruid O Spairn Iann", is the motto inscribed across the bottom of the flag carried into battle by the Irish Brigade of Civil War fame.  Translated it reads, "those who never retreated from the clash of spears", and they certainly did not.  Their emerald flag was seen rippling over the fields of every major battle the Army of the Potomac engaged in.

     The brigade, made up of Irish immigrants from New York, Massachusetts and Pennsylvania was nicknamed, "the Sons of Erin". By war's end that had changed to, "the Fearless Sons of Erin".  At their formation in 1862, the brigade, commanded by Thomas Francis Meagher, numbered 3,000 men.  A year later only 300 were left.  The battles of Fair Oaks, Antietam and Fredericksburg among others, had taken ghastly tolls.  After the

General Meagher

bloody battle at Fredericksburg, Confederate General George Pickett wrote to his fiancee, "Your Soldier's heart almost stood still as he watched those sons of Erin fearlessly rush to their death. The brilliant assault on Marye's Heights of their Irish Brigade was beyond description. Why, my darling, we forgot they were fighting us, and cheer after cheer at their fearlessness went up all along our lines." 

Colonel Kelly

In May of 1863, following the battle of Chancellorsville, General Meagher,  upset with the war department's refusal to reinforce the brigade wrote to his superiors resigning his post stating, "the brigade no longer exists". Meagher's resignation was not accepted, though he was reassigned, and the Irish,  now under the command of Colonel Patrick Kelly from Tuam, County Galway, were ordered north to Gettysburg.  At that point, some of the wounded of earlier battles had returned, and their numbers had risen to around 530 men, still far short of their original number.  At Gettysburg, the battalion was ordered to participate in the attack on the Wheatfield, but there was one order of business to attend to first.  

     At the start of the war, Notre Dame University, whose sports teams even today bear the name "Fighting Irish", sent many of it's priests to serve as Union chaplains.  One of these was Father William Corby who was assigned to the Irish Brigade.  Father Corby faithfully followed his brigade throughout their battles, and was there with them at Gettysburg.  Many accounts survive of the moving moment that preceded the battle, as Father Corby stepped onto a boulder, and the entire brigade removed their hats and knelt around him as he offered them absolution.  The statue of Father Corby at Gettysburg is said to grace that same boulder.

      After their engagement at the Wheatfield, only around 300 soldiers remained in the battalion.  They continued to serve their adopted country valiantly and were periodically reinforced, but never reached their original force size.  Colonel Kelly was recommended by no less than Abraham Lincoln to receive a promotion to Brigadier General, but that promotion never came.  Some maintain discrimination against Irish officers was the reason General Halleck refused to promote him.  In June of 1864 Colonel Kelly was killed, shot in the head leading the Irish Brigade in an attack of Confederate earthworks at Petersburg.

     Afterwards, the brigade was disbanded and incorporated into other brigades, only to be reformed in 1865.  The only unit of the old brigade that is still active today is "the Fighting 69th", of the New York National Guard.  They served with distinction in Iraq, securing parts of Baghdad and the airport road known as Route Irish, and also in Afghanistan.

     To their memory and the memory of all soldiers who did their duty as they saw it, and paid a terrible price, a humble thank you.