SNIPPET: Writer Frank McCOURT born in NY, went back to live in Ireland as a small boy with his family. His paternal grandparents lived in Co. Antrim. His maternal grandparents, the SHEEHANs, lived in Limerick, where they eventually settled. "Angela's Ashes" was written from Frank's recollections as a child and went on to win a Pulitzer Prize. In this excerpt they are visiting his father's people in Northern Ireland: "In a week we arrived in Moville, County Donegal, where we took a bus to Belfast and from there another bus to Toome in County Antrim. We left the trunk in a shop and set out to walk the two miles up the road to Grandpa McCOURT's house. It was dark on the road, the dawn barely stirring on the hills beyond. Dad carried the twins in his arms and they took turns crying with the hunger. Mam stopped every few minutes to sit and rest on the stone wall along the road. We sat with her and watched the sky turn red and then blue. Birds started to chirp and sing in the trees and as the dawn came up we saw strange creatures in the fields, standing, looking at us. Malachy said, What are they, Dad? Cows, son. What are cows, Dad? Cows are cows, son. We walked farther along the brightening road and there were other creatures in the fields, white furry creatures. Malachy said, What are they, Dad? Sheep, son. What are sheep, Dad? My father barked at him, Is there any end to your questions? Sheep are sheep, cows are cows, and that over there is a goat. A goat is a goat. The goat gives milk, the sheep gives wool, the cow gives everything. What else in God's name do you want to know? And Malachy yelped with fright because Dad never talked like that, never spoke sharply to us. He might get up in the middle of the night and make us promise to die for Ireland but he never barked like this. Malachy ran to Mam and she said, There, there, love, don't cry. Your father is just worn out carrying the twins and 'tis hard answering all those questions when you're carrying twins through the world. Dad set the twins on the road and held out his arms to Malachy. Now the twins started to cry and Malachy clung to Mam, sobbing. The cows mooed, the sheep maaed, the goat ehehed, the birds twittered in the trees, and the beep beep of a motor car cut through everything. A man called from the motor car. Good Lord, what are you people doing on the road at this hour of an Easter Sunday morning? Dad said, Good morning, Father. Father? I said, Dad, is that your father? Mam said, Don't ask him questions . Dad said, No, no this is a priest. Malachy said, What's a ------? but Mam put her hand over his mouth. The priest had white hair and a white collar. He said, Where are you going? Dad said, Up the road to McCourts of Moneyglass, and the priest took us in his motor car. He said he knew the McCourts, a fine family, good Catholics, some daily communicants, and he hoped he'd see us all at Mass, especially the little Yankees who didn't know what a priest was, God help us. At the house my mother reaches for the gate latch. Dad says, No, no, not that way. Not the front gate. They use the front door only for visits from the priest or funerals. We make our way around the house to the kitchen door. Dad pushes in the door and there's Grandpa McCourt drinking tea from a big mug and Grandma McCourt frying something. Och, say Grandpa, you're here. Och, we are, says Dad. He points to my mother. This is Angela, he says. Grandpa says, Och, you must be worn out, Angela. Grandma says nothing, she turns back to the frying pan. Grandpa leads us through the kitchen to a large room with a long table and chairs. He says, Sit down and have some tea. Would you like boxty? Malachy says, What's boxty? Dad laughs. Pancakes, son. Pancakes made with potatoes. Grandpa says, We have eggs. It's Easter Sunday and you can have all the eggs you can hold. We have tea and boxty and boiled eggs and we all fall asleep. I wake up in bed with Malachy and the twins. My parents are in another bed over by the window. Where am I? It's getting dark. This is not the ship .... I get up and poke at Dad. I have to pee. He says, Use the chamber pot. What? Under the bed, son. It has roses and maidens cavorting the glen ... He leads us downstairs and through the big room where Grandpa is dozing in his chair .... In the house there are other people in the room with my grandparents Dad says, These are your aunts: Emily, Nora, Maggie, Vera. Your aunt Eva is in Ballymena with children like you. My aunts nod their heads but they don't hug us or smile. Mam comes into the room with the twins and when Dad tells his sisters, This is Angela and these are the twins, they just nod again. Grandma goes to the kitchen and soon we have bread and sausages and tea. The only one who speaks at the table is Malachy. He points his spoon at the aunts and asks their names again. When Mam tells him eat his sausage and be quiet his eyes fill with tears and Aunt Nora reaches over to comfort him. She says, There, there, and I wonder why everyone says there there when Malachy cries... It's quiet at the table till Dad says, Things are terrible in America. Grandma says Och, aye. I read it in the paper. But they say Mr. Roosevelt is a good man and if you stayed you might have work by now. Dad shakes his head and Grandma says, I don't know what you're going to do. Things are getting worse here than they are in America. No work here and, God knows, we don't have room in this house for six more people. Dad says, I thought I might get work on some of the farms We could get a small place. Where would you stay in the meantime? says Grandma. And how would you support yourself and your family? Och, I could go on the dole, I suppose. You can't get off a ship from America and go on the dole, says Grandpa. They make you wait a while and what would you do while you're waiting? Dad says nothing and Mam looks straight ahead at the wall. You'd be better off in the Free State, says Grandma. Dublin is big and surely there's work there or on the farms around. You're entitled to money from the IRA, too, says Grandpa. You did your bit and they've been handing out money to men all over the Free State. You could go to Dublin and ask for help. We can loan you the bus fare to Dublin. The twins can sit on your lap and you won't have to pay for them. Dad says, Och, aye, and Mam stares at the wall with tears in her eyes."

Jean - Lovely story. Peter Wilkinson ----- Original Message ----- From: "Jean R." <jeanrice@cet.com> To: <IrelandGenWeb-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Friday, April 24, 2009 3:55 AM Subject: [Irish Genealogy] Frank McCOURT/"Angela's Ashes: A Memoir" (1996) -Visit, Antrim McCOURTs > SNIPPET: Writer Frank McCOURT born in NY, went back to live in Ireland as > a > small boy with his family. His paternal grandparents lived in Co. Antrim. > His maternal grandparents, the SHEEHANs, lived in Limerick, where they > eventually settled. "Angela's Ashes" was written from Frank's > recollections > as a child and went on to win a Pulitzer Prize. > > In this excerpt they are visiting his father's people in Northern Ireland: > > "In a week we arrived in Moville, County Donegal, where we took a bus to > Belfast and from there another bus to Toome in County Antrim. We left the > trunk in a shop and set out to walk the two miles up the road to Grandpa > McCOURT's house. It was dark on the road, the dawn barely stirring on the > hills beyond. Dad carried the twins in his arms and they took turns crying > with the hunger. Mam stopped every few minutes to sit and rest on the > stone > wall along the road. We sat with her and watched the sky turn red and then > blue. Birds started to chirp and sing in the trees and as the dawn came up > we saw strange creatures in the fields, standing, looking at us. Malachy > said, What are they, Dad? Cows, son. What are cows, Dad? Cows are cows, > son. > We walked farther along the brightening road and there were other > creatures > in the fields, white furry creatures. Malachy said, What are they, Dad? > Sheep, son. What are sheep, Dad? My father barked at him, Is there any end > to your questions? Sheep are sheep, cows are cows, and that over there is > a > goat. A goat is a goat. The goat gives milk, the sheep gives wool, the cow > gives everything. What else in God's name do you want to know? And Malachy > yelped with fright because Dad never talked like that, never spoke sharply > to us. He might get up in the middle of the night and make us promise to > die > for Ireland but he never barked like this. Malachy ran to Mam and she > said, > There, there, love, don't cry. Your father is just worn out carrying the > twins and 'tis hard answering all those questions when you're carrying > twins > through the world. Dad set the twins on the road and held out his arms to > Malachy. Now the twins started to cry and Malachy clung to Mam, sobbing. > The > cows mooed, the sheep maaed, the goat ehehed, the birds twittered in the > trees, and the beep beep of a motor car cut through everything. A man > called > from the motor car. Good Lord, what are you people doing on the road at > this > hour of an Easter Sunday morning? Dad said, Good morning, Father. Father? > I > said, Dad, is that your father? Mam said, Don't ask him questions . Dad > said, No, no this is a priest. Malachy said, What's a ------? but Mam put > her hand over his mouth. The priest had white hair and a white collar. He > said, Where are you going? Dad said, Up the road to McCourts of > Moneyglass, > and the priest took us in his motor car. He said he knew the McCourts, a > fine family, good Catholics, some daily communicants, and he hoped he'd > see > us all at Mass, especially the little Yankees who didn't know what a > priest > was, God help us. > > At the house my mother reaches for the gate latch. Dad says, No, no, not > that way. Not the front gate. They use the front door only for visits from > the priest or funerals. We make our way around the house to the kitchen > door. Dad pushes in the door and there's Grandpa McCourt drinking tea from > a > big mug and Grandma McCourt frying something. Och, say Grandpa, you're > here. > Och, we are, says Dad. He points to my mother. This is Angela, he says. > Grandpa says, Och, you must be worn out, Angela. Grandma says nothing, she > turns back to the frying pan. Grandpa leads us through the kitchen to a > large room with a long table and chairs. He says, Sit down and have some > tea. Would you like boxty? Malachy says, What's boxty? Dad laughs. > Pancakes, > son. Pancakes made with potatoes. Grandpa says, We have eggs. It's Easter > Sunday and you can have all the eggs you can hold. We have tea and boxty > and > boiled eggs and we all fall asleep. I wake up in bed with Malachy and the > twins. My parents are in another bed over by the window. Where am I? It's > getting dark. This is not the ship .... I get up and poke at Dad. I have > to > pee. He says, Use the chamber pot. What? Under the bed, son. It has roses > and maidens cavorting the glen ... He leads us downstairs and through the > big room where Grandpa is dozing in his chair .... In the house there are > other people in the room with my grandparents Dad says, These are your > aunts: Emily, Nora, Maggie, Vera. Your aunt Eva is in Ballymena with > children like you. My aunts nod their heads but they don't hug us or > smile. > Mam comes into the room with the twins and when Dad tells his sisters, > This > is Angela and these are the twins, they just nod again. Grandma goes to > the > kitchen and soon we have bread and sausages and tea. The only one who > speaks > at the table is Malachy. He points his spoon at the aunts and asks their > names again. When Mam tells him eat his sausage and be quiet his eyes fill > with tears and Aunt Nora reaches over to comfort him. She says, There, > there, and I wonder why everyone says there there when Malachy cries... > It's > quiet at the table till Dad says, Things are terrible in America. Grandma > says Och, aye. I read it in the paper. But they say Mr. Roosevelt is a > good > man and if you stayed you might have work by now. Dad shakes his head and > Grandma says, I don't know what you're going to do. Things are getting > worse > here than they are in America. No work here and, God knows, we don't have > room in this house for six more people. Dad says, I thought I might get > work > on some of the farms We could get a small place. Where would you stay in > the > meantime? says Grandma. And how would you support yourself and your > family? > Och, I could go on the dole, I suppose. You can't get off a ship from > America and go on the dole, says Grandpa. They make you wait a while and > what would you do while you're waiting? Dad says nothing and Mam looks > straight ahead at the wall. You'd be better off in the Free State, says > Grandma. Dublin is big and surely there's work there or on the farms > around. > You're entitled to money from the IRA, too, says Grandpa. You did your bit > and they've been handing out money to men all over the Free State. You > could > go to Dublin and ask for help. We can loan you the bus fare to Dublin. The > twins can sit on your lap and you won't have to pay for them. Dad says, > Och, > aye, and Mam stares at the wall with tears in her eyes." > > > Check out the Ireland GenWeb website at: http://www.irelandgenweb.com/ > > Great place to get help with your family research. > > County Clare has been adopted! > > Help wanted: County Coordinators > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > IRELANDGENWEB-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >