is over five and goes to the Kindergaren –
that must have been Euphemia, Phemie –
that is the baby class at school they learn deportment only, and have a general good time the teachers read them stories and C. –
it’s as if they switch; Mary is talking, then John talks –
we were at Roslyn Friday evening we out for a ride and stopped there on the way home saw your aunt Emily – my great aunt – and had a long talk with your uncle Mike we were speaking of you, thought something might have happened you, not having heard form you in such a long time, and this time especially –
was that a reference to the Troubles here; the Civil War? They were worried about Mammy and Daddy –
we were at your aunt Marys one evening last week she was ill, throat trouble but is not out of bed so aunt Emily said she was over there, your cousin Emily Hyland was in the store last night –
I was fascinated with all the Marys and Emilys; they really handed down the names.
‘About a year after I’d contacted the Beekman cousins,Connie visited Ireland. I was at the Royal Dublin Hotel in O’Connell Street to welcome her and her friends. Rory and Máire were with me. I knew her, and she knew me. We hugged and kissed. She was a tiny little woman. She was smaller than even my five feet. She was bright and friendly. We had dinner with them that night. They had landed in Shannon and had travelled by tour bus up through the country. They were very happy with the trip, but I noticed that Connie was very quick in recognising the tourist traps, and wasn’t at all interested in buying shillelaghs or shamrocks as souvenirs. We had a lovely evening. That was the 27th of August, 1977.
‘
… your cousin Emily Hyland was in the store last night, she and her husband do not get on good it is his fault, she made a grave mistake in her marriage, its too bad, she is a good looking good disposition girl, your cousin Mary Hyland expect the Stork, she had three nice children, Well, I see Mike Collins has made the sacrifice, God rest his soul, I trust before many moons peace will again come to poor war ridden Ireland may God be merciful to her, let us hear from you soon
…
‘That was Saturday, and they all came to us for lunch on Sunday. There was Connie, and her friend Violet, a very tall woman; she had red hair piled on top of her head. And a bright-green trouser outfit; she was a lovely woman. And there was Frank McManus, whose parents had emigrated to America from Queenstown, * when he was a year old, “a baby in arms,” but his parents had come from Fermanagh; and his wife, Henrietta, who had left Bremen, in Germany, when she was six months old. Connie told me that they’d all been friends since childhood. And my cousin, Bob Beekman’s wife, Jean Epp,who was also of German extraction. And I was told that Jean was more Irish than the Irish themselves; she was big into Irish music and Irish everything, and she collected Belleek china. So, they came in and, first of all, Frank said, “Hey Henrietta, this guy has a bigger TV than we have.” Connie gave me a paperweight, a brass American eagle, which her mother had given to her the day she started work. She also gave me a painted stone, a lighthouse, from Long Beach, and a piece of planking, cut from the barn of the Reimors’ farm, her husband’s home, in Cooperstown, Long Island. There was a painting of a red cardinal bird on the wood; Connie’s sister-in-law had painted it. They all sat down to the meal.
‘I had planned this lunch beforehand, and I’d planned on Irish smoked salmon to start with. But when we were having our dinner in the Royal Dublin the night before, Henrietta, reading the menu, had said, “Irish smoked salmon?” And Frank turned to her, and said, “No, Henrietta, that’s sheenie food.” I didn’t know what he meant, but I knew that it was rather a derogatory description, * so I decided against smoked salmon. And I’d bought tins of soup. I served the soup, and Frank,
that must have been Euphemia, Phemie –
that is the baby class at school they learn deportment only, and have a general good time the teachers read them stories and C. –
it’s as if they switch; Mary is talking, then John talks –
we were at Roslyn Friday evening we out for a ride and stopped there on the way home saw your aunt Emily – my great aunt – and had a long talk with your uncle Mike we were speaking of you, thought something might have happened you, not having heard form you in such a long time, and this time especially –
was that a reference to the Troubles here; the Civil War? They were worried about Mammy and Daddy –
we were at your aunt Marys one evening last week she was ill, throat trouble but is not out of bed so aunt Emily said she was over there, your cousin Emily Hyland was in the store last night –
I was fascinated with all the Marys and Emilys; they really handed down the names.
‘About a year after I’d contacted the Beekman cousins,Connie visited Ireland. I was at the Royal Dublin Hotel in O’Connell Street to welcome her and her friends. Rory and Máire were with me. I knew her, and she knew me. We hugged and kissed. She was a tiny little woman. She was smaller than even my five feet. She was bright and friendly. We had dinner with them that night. They had landed in Shannon and had travelled by tour bus up through the country. They were very happy with the trip, but I noticed that Connie was very quick in recognising the tourist traps, and wasn’t at all interested in buying shillelaghs or shamrocks as souvenirs. We had a lovely evening. That was the 27th of August, 1977.
‘
… your cousin Emily Hyland was in the store last night, she and her husband do not get on good it is his fault, she made a grave mistake in her marriage, its too bad, she is a good looking good disposition girl, your cousin Mary Hyland expect the Stork, she had three nice children, Well, I see Mike Collins has made the sacrifice, God rest his soul, I trust before many moons peace will again come to poor war ridden Ireland may God be merciful to her, let us hear from you soon
…
‘That was Saturday, and they all came to us for lunch on Sunday. There was Connie, and her friend Violet, a very tall woman; she had red hair piled on top of her head. And a bright-green trouser outfit; she was a lovely woman. And there was Frank McManus, whose parents had emigrated to America from Queenstown, * when he was a year old, “a baby in arms,” but his parents had come from Fermanagh; and his wife, Henrietta, who had left Bremen, in Germany, when she was six months old. Connie told me that they’d all been friends since childhood. And my cousin, Bob Beekman’s wife, Jean Epp,who was also of German extraction. And I was told that Jean was more Irish than the Irish themselves; she was big into Irish music and Irish everything, and she collected Belleek china. So, they came in and, first of all, Frank said, “Hey Henrietta, this guy has a bigger TV than we have.” Connie gave me a paperweight, a brass American eagle, which her mother had given to her the day she started work. She also gave me a painted stone, a lighthouse, from Long Beach, and a piece of planking, cut from the barn of the Reimors’ farm, her husband’s home, in Cooperstown, Long Island. There was a painting of a red cardinal bird on the wood; Connie’s sister-in-law had painted it. They all sat down to the meal.
‘I had planned this lunch beforehand, and I’d planned on Irish smoked salmon to start with. But when we were having our dinner in the Royal Dublin the night before, Henrietta, reading the menu, had said, “Irish smoked salmon?” And Frank turned to her, and said, “No, Henrietta, that’s sheenie food.” I didn’t know what he meant, but I knew that it was rather a derogatory description, * so I decided against smoked salmon. And I’d bought tins of soup. I served the soup, and Frank,
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