Joe & Laura Schmidt wrote: > > http://www.toad.net/~sticker/wake.html > http://204.50.177.183/roots/Mythology.htm > > -----Original Message----- > From: Darcy & Larry <[email protected]> > To: [email protected] <[email protected]> > Date: Friday, March 19, 1999 2:50 AM > Subject: [FIANNA-L] irish wakes > > >Hi1 I am looking for info on irish wakes. traditional ones, > >any one know of books or web sites? > >Thanks a bunch > >Darcy > >[email protected] > > > > > >==== FIANNA Mailing List ==== > >Need some help getting started with irc (INTERNET RELAY CHAT)? > >Try: http://www.rare.on.ca/users/genealogyforum/index.htm > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > ==== FIANNA Mailing List ==== > [email protected] > Any queries go here! > List Maintainer: [email protected] > Any complaints go here! > Please turn off your Stationery, Backrounds & HTML! > Messages to list in plain text only! I don't know how traditional they were, but I attended wakes of departed family members from the mid '30's through WWII, when the departed was waked from home. The women remained in the parlor for the most part and the men, after they paid their respects to the departed and the family, headed for the kitchen. On the kitchen table, I remember seeing a handful or two of cigarettes in a bowl. Also on the table, a half a box of cigars, and a couple of bottles of liquor, probably Rye and Irish. At seven thirty or eight o'clock, in would come father Crowley from St Aloysius, to say the Rosary. All the men moved to the parlor or the dining room. After the Rosary, the priest would stop by the kitchen say a few not too serious words, and leave. Some might even sip on a glass of rye before he completed his corporal work of mercy. I stood there among the old and young men, and listened with my mouth open, as they told stories about the departed, especially if the departed was a male. It seemed that there were always a few stories about prohibition, and places they would go to get a drink. There were no tears in the kitchen, except when one of the wives would come to kitchen with a tear, looking for comfort from her husband. Almost every story ended with loud laughter. It was not a time to be too serious or maudlin. While the men are talking one on top of the other, each trying to get his story in before he forgets it, a high whining sound, a sound I would expect to come from a banshee, would come from the parlor. It tapered off to a sobbing moan that continued until it was ignorable. She wasn't even a member of the family, but was a friend that lived in the neighborhood. As the evening wore on someone would be coaxed into singing an Irish song. Men and women stayed until the survivor of the house was exhausted and too tired to do anything but sleep. There were times when someone would stay up all night with the departed, other time not. After the funeral, family and friends returned to the house where good neighbors had dropped off backed beans, ham, potato salad, corned beef and cabbage, fresh baked bread and rolls and more beer and whiskey. Now the survivor was made to get involved, getting napkins, making sure there were enough chairs, busy work. One of the assistant pastors had brought a guitar, and the singing started and the stories started all over again. In time everyone was exhausted from the day and the strain. They all said goodnight and almost every member of the family could be heard saying, "Ya know the only time we get together is a wakes and weddings, We're going to have to get together and a more joyous occasion." Tomorrow was soon enough for the survivor to face the day alone. For whatever reason, wakes moved to Funeral parlors after the war