This was written as I read it. If I couldn't read a word I put a (?) or looks like next to it.

By

Kathleen Harrington

Transcribed (as written) by Andrea Healy

Happy home. Big family. Eleven of us, Mother, Dad, our two grandmothers,"Mama Harrington" and "Mama Hanley". No grandfathers! Both gone to God before my time. The eleven children numbered six girls and five boys. We had a happy home, but discipline was strict. On the dot for meals, if not - do without. Two tables in dining room - big one for parents and oldest. Dad sat at head of table - he carved and mother served. One of us older girls served the small table, made them happy.

We had strict orders about being out. In winter we had to come in when the first lamp was list in any shop - oil lamps - no electricity then. We played on the square, in full view of home; we stopped playing, dropped ball, and made straight for home at lamplight.

Lessons and homework were done in the dining room. Mother at one side of the fire with her basket of mending, Dad at the opposite, he reading the paper. We children hard at work till at 9 p.m. sharp Dad would say "Time for the rosary" All on our knees while Mother gave it out, and we each get a "decade", giggling was excused when the youngest got his/her turn, and mixed things up by saying "Holy Mary Mudder of God" instead of "Hail Mary", and Mother loved to add on new "trimmings" embracing family, friends and foes!

Summer time we were allowed to play outside while daylight lasted. Ethel and I loved to "steal" "Grand -DA Peter’s" boat, and cruise around as he refreshed himself in some pub. He was the only fisherman who left his rowlocks in his boat, without them we could not row. One day he came back unexpectedly and caught us. We begged and implored him not to "drown us", but he surely came near to it as he doused us under water saying with each douse "Will ye steal me boat again?" "NO, Grand -DA Peter, NO!" both soaked to our skin (Et. & I) we had to steal in home unknown to Mother or Dad, and get to the bathroom to wash and change. Luckily we escaped that time, but the story leaked out, so we had delayed repercussions! We loved to fish off the pier. We had our shrimp nets and lines. Shrimps made a scrumptious dish (can’t read word. looks like fer kea), but we seldom got an edible fish - crabs only!

We skipped, bowled, played marbles, all in season with great competition. Henry had a "ship" in Mamma Hanley’s back garden! No ladies allowed in crew! But we were allowed to feed the male crew! Henry was the captain of course. Suitably attired in pea cap and (looks like) navy gansey(someone has written T-shirt in ( ) next to "gansey") he looked the part.

We loved to bathe on the lovely sunny summer days. Mother packed a "lunch"(bread and jam!) for us, and we walked out to the "Ladies Bathing" for our dip, and we enjoyed the long summer hours playing with our buckets and shovels on the beach. We had our own boat of course, but were not allowed to use it except some adult were with us. Mother took us out in it almost everyday to Deenish Island where there was a lovely strand. It was only 10 minutes row to the island. There Mother taught us to swim. I was a "slow learner". I could do the strokes but never moved out of the one spot!! She gave me up as a bad job. As we grew older, we were allowed use the boat in our free time and loved it.

We were a big household. Mama Harrington had her own suite of rooms upstairs. We loved to visit her, as she had a big fat purse full of pennies for good girls! Her press held treasures too - legs of cold chicken, tin of biscuits and she always had sticks of barley sugar on her bedside table! We loved to make toast at her fire too. If Mother refused to give us anything we’d appeal to Mamma’s sympathy, and very often got off with it - not always. I remember one big victory I had. When I begged Mother for a wristwatch, because May Sullivan in my class had got one! She naturally refused. So up to Mamma I went with my sad story. Believe it or not, I melted her heart, and very soon I sported a real silver watch (which I have still) inscribed to "Dear sister Gertrude from her fond old Mother". That was Aunt Gertrude who was a Mercy nun in Tralee, and who had died recently. Her watch was sent home to her mother, so it really was a relic and is now an heirloom.

Mamma wore a black cape and bonnet decorated with sequins, when she went abroad, which was not often in my young days. So on wet days, one of our favourite "games" was to rip the sequins off Mamma’s cape and cap and make beautiful necklaces and bangles to decorate ourselves! Luckily Mamma had "squeaky" boots and we could hear her coming along, so were fore warned and had lovely, innocent, angelic smiles to welcome her when she reached the bathroom where her outdoor clothes had their own wardrobe.

Mamma loved to spend some weeks every summer in (looks like) Bonane with her son, Fr.Tim, who was P.P. there. She went off in great style in her hired carriage and pair. Molzie and Julie Sidley often went with her for weeks, and even Ethel and I had many happy holidays there, when invited. Fr. Tim, tho strict about conduct - spoilt us. He gave us a small (1/4 lb.) box of chocs. Every day to be enjoyed after dinner only. We "cheated" of course, as we used find our way to a little shop selling cheap "bulls eyes" sugar sticks etc. We loved to sit on the pillars - on one each side of presbytery gates and wave to the passengers in horse - drawn "coaches", usually American tourists. There I saw my first Teddy Bear! On Sundays, in Bonane, we drove with Fr. Tim to Glengarriffe where he said another Mass and were given coffee in sacristy before we set off for home. Fr. Tim drove the pony and trap himself through the lovely tunnel road.

His two brothers Fr. Dan and Fr. Den I did not know. Fr. Dan was President of Listowel College and Fr. Den, who had also bee in the Kerry diocese went out to the USA collecting for the Killarnery Caltedrat (?) And did very well too. He finally settled down in Chicago where he died. So father had three brothers priests - Fr. Daniel, Fr. Denis, Fr.Timothy. His brother Jack was a lawyer, and married a German lady in California. They had three children Kathleen, Ethel, Raymond - all doctors. We never met any of that family, and know nothing of them now. Another brother, Henry, died as a young boy. Father’s youngest brother, Patrick was a draper, and has a shop a few doors away from our house. He was called "Big Pat". Besides Aunt Gertrude, who was a Mercy nun in Tralee, father had a sister, Margaret, who married Jack Sheehan. They were well to do business people with a large family. Elthia (?) and Kit would be their Grandchildren I think. (Some one has written "true").

We were a happy family. My eldest sister Molzie was a boarder in Loretto College, Dublin - Stephens Green. Tim was sent to Roscrea boarding School, but he literally ran out of it after a few days, then father was sent for. Tim was sent to Australia when he was older. There he married. He enlisted in Army for WW1. He died in Boston leaving three children. Donal and Henry were sent as boarders to Holy Ghost Fathers in Rockwell.

Molzie married Dr. Dan J. Lyne who was her doctor after she met with a car accident. He attended her for about two years before they married. They had 6 children - One girl, Maureen and 5 boys, Brendan and John (doctors), Harny, townclerk, Colman, Foreign Affairs - and Francis - Vincentian priest (R.I.P)

I came next in our family. Ethel, Madge, Frank, Walter (?), Nita and I were never sent away to school, as things were not so rosy financially at home for us.

We had a big business at one time. Grocery, Drapers, bar, bakery, and we did a good business, but alas, our customers didn’t pay up - a lot of credit was given. Father used to have to go around on his pony and trap trying to collect debts on the books. When WW1 came supplies were limited and gradually we sank lower. Finally Father had to sell out to pay the bank. Also one of our farms (Droum) had to go. The second farm at Knockaneroe was kept, we, Mother, Frank, Walter and Nita went to live there in our Baker’s cottage, while father stayed on in Corner House until he went to Boston in 1926. That was the beginning of many sad partings for me. I will never forget Dad’s last visit home. I just couldn’t believe he was off to USA. He had not even told mother. He couldn’t. He wrote to her from Queenstown (as Cobh was called then). Never saw him again. When he was settled in a good job in Harvard (Fogg Art Museum) he sent for Frank and Walter and sent them to school over there. At long last Mother made up her mind to join him, and on 15th August 1931 she and Nita sailed off from Cobh. Mother never regretted going tho’ it was a terrible trial for her at her age. She had the happiest seven years of her life with Dad and Nita and Walter over there. Dad died 13th July 1938 R.I.P. He died in San Francisco as when Dr. told Mother he had only a few weeks to live, father asked if he could go to S.F. as he knew Mother would go out there to Ethel, and he wanted to be buried with her. So they went to S.F. Walter was a wonderful help to mother. It took several days travelling on train where he had a special apartment and Walter did everything for him. On arrival Ethel and Henry met them and Dad was transferred to a lovely downstairs apartment with a lovely large window where his bed was placed. He lived one week there, so he had his dying wish. He and Mother are together in death as they were in their long happy life. May their dear souls rest in peace.

Before they left Boston, Nita brought her new baby (Betty) for Dad to see, so he had the great joy of seeing his new little grand child as indeed did Mother. They were both happy to know that Nita was happily married to John H. Riley.

Madge had trained as a nurse in South Infirmary where she met Don who was her patient. They fell in love and were married when she graduated. Dan was Bank Manager of Provincial Bank. Their first home was in St. Clare’s Ave. College Rd. Later they lived on Ballincillig, and when Don retired they lived in his old home "Gleann - na- Smot (?) in Skibbereen. Finally they all went to S. F. as Dr. Chance recommended a specialist over there for Michael who had years on hospital here with a serious leg condition. Thank God he was cured in USA but their going off was another sad parting for me. Thank God they settled down happily near Frank, Ethel and Henry. So all the "Family" that was left here for me was Molzie, Teddy (?) and Family, and Thank God for them. They have been so good to me always down to the present day.

Childhood Friends

Ethel and I were really one, we had so much love for one another, and so much in common. We were called the "Gypsy Twins", as we were the two Brown (Tan Skin) members. Of the family we did everything together. But Ethel was more unselfish than I was. If there was a drive or picnic, and room for one more, someone had to stay at home with Mother. Ethel always volunteered so generously to stay. I’d be too selfish to lose a lovely day out. Ethel was full of a lively imagination, and came home after visiting "friends" in the Yachts at the pier with highly unlikely stories of meeting beautiful rich girls whom nobody else ever saw!

Gertie Glanagan (might be Flanagan), our music teacher was a great friend. Her baby sister, Cecil, was my best friend as a small child. Cecil died aged about 5 or 6. We did everything together her big brother Pat was very good to us both. One day he put Cecil and me on the swinging boats on the "Merries". He tucked us in and gave each of us 4 boxes of sherbit each, with it’s own "silver" spoon. (Cost one penny for 4 boxes!!) My heart swelled with grateful love (it surely was "cupboard love"!) so then and there I said "Pat, I’ll marry you" and it wasn’t even leap year! I suffered my share over that proposal all down the years till Pat died. He kept me up to my promise saying "You will marry me, won’t you Kathleen?" How often I wished I had not been so rash before the use of reason!

The Canon (Mc Donald) was a great family friend, he married my parents, and we loved him dearly, he always was our honoured guest at Christmas dinner.

One lovely summer morning he met Ethel and me all decked up going to school. Outside Martin’s shop we met - so he took us in to buy us a treat - and a treat it was. Two big bags fruit and bars of chocolate. So off we went happily laden with our "goodies", when we met Chrissie Lynch and she tacked on to us when she saw how well off we were "Don’t go to school’ she said. "The nun would take all your party, and you would get nothing", so she persuaded the two foolish virgins to go "mitching" with her (truancy). She guided us to a "safe house" - God’s house - (the church!) Up the spiral stairs with us to the organ gallery and there we sat "happy as Larry" gorging ourselves. Alas! Our bliss didn’t last too long. At roll call in school when "Kathleen Harrington" was called out "absent ma’am" rang out the chorus. "Ethel Harrington" "absent ma’am" Oh dear, poor K & E must be very ill to be absent. "Run down Mary, and ask Mrs. H. how they are". So Mary went off to Mother, who told her K & E went off to school at 9 a.m. So a "Search Party" was sent out. No sniffer dogs needed! The sounds of merriment from the organ gallery guided the searchers. When "caught" I had a pear in one hand and a box of chocolate in the other! So off we marched to face the firing squad. Needless to say we lost all of our "property", and gained a fine sound scolding for being such bold and greedy girls - and of course I was put down as Ring Leader! The class benefited as the booty was shared out. So ended the Canon’s Bounty!!

Another day, the School Inspector arrived unexpectedly, and hit my class - grade 3 when I was 8 - going on 9. We were reading English when he came in, and Sister had just called on me to carry on. So, I read, "The Queen Bee stores the honey in her abdomen" The Inspector said "Read that last sentence again". When I did he asked me to spell the last word, and I sang out B E L L Y. "What does B E L L Y spell?" He asked, "abdomen" I piped up - sure of myself! So he brought the nun behind the blackboard and I’m sure he gave her B E L L Y!

That same year, on a lovely sunny day we had class in the school yard. We all stood around with jotters and pencils at the ready, & the nun called out a "sum" for us to work out. When done, books on the ground at our feet, arms folded, till all were finished. Sister called out "Have you finished children"? I piped up "I should think so" For such a saucy, rude, answer I was condemned to go on my knees on the rough gravel for the rest of the lesson. Lunny (?) Sheehan was enduring the same punishment for some other major offense. But Lunny had a Mother who came down to attack the nun after lunch. Shawl on head. Arms akimbo, she demanded an explanation with threats. How I envied Lunny for having such a Mother! When I reproached Mother after school, she said, "Would you really like to see me coming down to attack the nun? You deserved the punishment you got as you answer sounded saucy, tho’ I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be." I heartily agreed with Mother when I tried to picture her arriving at the classroom door raring to fight for me.

When I was in grade 6 we were reading one of Scott’s novels one day. Someone read "It was a wet stormy evening when a loud knock came on the door. The lady of the house, who was pregnant, went to open the door". My hand shot up "Please Sister what does "pregnant" mean"? Black looks as Sister said, "Sit down in your place you forward girl". So, puzzled, I sat down wondering why I was forward for asking the meaning of a word I heard for the first time. At home Mother eased my mind by telling me it meant that the lady of the house was going to have a baby!

Sunday mornings Mother & Dad went to "First Mass". Mary Shea - "Shea - om" we called her as she would say "She - om" when she meant, "she is". So we "smarties called her "She - om" She was very good to us small children. On Sunday mornings she decked us out in lovely fresh, white muslin frocks, and put big white bows on our hair, and sent us off to meet Mother & Dad coming home from Mass. So hand in hand, Ethel, Madge, and I trotted down the footpath to stand opposite Church gates, as we were forbidden to cross the road. So when Mother & Dad appeared we waved and waited till they crossed. Then Dad hoisted Madge on his shoulder, & Ethel & I took his and Mother’s hands, and we all marched triumphantly home to a lovely hot breakfast of "Con Aherne’s Kidneys" our Sunday treat. (Con Aherne was a butcher).

Our Julie Sidley was a character. Really Boss in our kitchen. She came to Mamma when she was 14 and stayed in our house until it was sold. Then Molzie took her into Castle House where she spent the rest of her life. She was the real old style. She loved Mamma, and Mother was only second place. She was a splendid plain cook, and didn’t at all approve of Molzies trying out some of her lovely modern dishes (which we loved). Julie was all for good nourishing soup, Leg of mutton (lamb), or surloin of beef, with plain and wholesome vegetables with no trimmings. She was a wonderful laundress, and table cloths were always beautifully starched and made up, as were our summer frocks. But no one could boss Julie. She did the bossing, and got away with it. But we really loved her, as she was a truly loyal servant all her life, and Molzie rewarded by taking her for good into her house where she was very happy especially when she could still "Boss".

Life went on happily as we grew up and knew no worries. We were all learning to play the piano, and our teacher, Gertie Flanigan, was splendid. She got up lovely Recitals and Concerts, and Ethel & I were a pair of "stars" in the making (according to ourselves!) We loved to play piano duets, and always had an item of our own in the concerts e.g. "Rory Omoore", "The Gypsy Twins" which always got an encore. Our class song "Little Cookery (?) Girls" always brought the house down. So between Recitals, concerts, picnics, and days out of town in a wagonette, which we loved, we had a "High Life".

One beautiful June day, Ethel, Larry, Betty (!) (His sister) an English officer named Nicholson (I think!) and I set for a day in our boat. We rowed around talking, and joking, and singing, as we went. We landed on Minane Island and after a swim settled down to a lovely picnic. It was just perfect, and we all were in top form, and enjoyed the "goodies" and took photos.

Home about 9 p.m., and after telling Mother and Dad all about our day, I went to bed. Sitting at my window, brushing my hair, and looking out on the square in beautiful moonlight I was thinking over our lovely day, one of so many like it - and I said to myself "Is this all my life is to be? Surely I can do some thing for God". I was really disturbed by the thought and found it hard to sleep. I woke up in the morning still with the nagging idea that I’d have to do something about it. I did. I went to Convent to my dear friend, Mother Ita, and told her the whole thing. Straight away she said, "It’s clear to me that God is calling you my dear child" "Oh! NO" I said, "not to be a nun. I couldn’t bear that - locked away- sleeping alone, No pictures (movies)" (Charlie Chaplin was a big hit with me in those days!). Mother Ita reassured me that life in the convent would not be as awful as I feared and she suggested St. Maries of the Isle as a lovely convent where my cousin, Sr. Patricia Hanley was so happy. So she wrote away to the Superior, and after some days I was summoned to visit which I did, and after being well scrutinized by 4 Mothers I was sent off home not knowing my fate. Days later word came that I was accepted, and here was a list of what I needed in my "Trouseau" So many sheets, pillow cases, shoes, boots, etc. Well the "All Clear" sent me off in an (can’t read word) of tears "I don’t want to go, I don’t want to be a nun" I kept repeating, Mother calmed me down. "Nobody wants you to go child, so do not worry". Anyway between the jigs and the reels I made up my mind to follow the call, and I never regretted it, Thank God.

April 13th, 1921 was the date fixed for entry and we left on 10th so that I could "see the world" before entering convent! For the trip to Cork we had to hire a car to go as far as Bantry where we got the train Cork. Cars were a novelty in C.T.B. at that time, we had to get a "Passport" from the "Black and Laws (?)" (Which I still have) allowing Miss Kathleen Regan Harrington to hire the car to go to Bantry. Business - Miss K.R.H to enter a convent. At Glengarriff we were stopped at the Eccles Hotel by an officer with gun pointed at us. He demanded the passport. When he read it, he looked at me and said, "Tell that to the Marines" (that I was to enter convent) My brother - in- law, Dr. Lyne came back quickly "We don’t tell lies in Ireland"(and we surely are the biggest liars in the world) Anyway, he gave us the "all clear" and off we went. Aunt May, Molzie and Ethel accompanied me to Cork. We stayed in the Victoria Hotel.

Day 1

I was taken to a Hairdresser and had my flowing locks made into something I can’t describe - a high "coiffure" in which I didn’t know myself!

Day 2

First class photographer to have my photo taken for posterity! In a borrowed stylish blouse (of Molzies) I posed for an interminal mornings agony - eyes right - left - up - etc. Result you have probably seen, and wondered who the foreign actress was!!

Day3

I sought out a priest in St. Peter & Paul’s and made my "general confession" (story of my whole life). Canon O’leary, whom I never met before, was very nice to me, so I ventured to add that I was entering a convent "tomorrow" "Where will that be, child?" "St. Maries of the Isle, Father" "No, Not in that Barracks, surely you will be lost there. But if you do go, you have my blessing, and if you "stick it out" and send me an invitation I will come to your Profession" - so - I did "stick it out" and I did send him an invitation and he did come to my profession, and met Mother, Dad, Aunt May and Nita - that’s all I had. We were allowed 5 family but for some reason Molzie couldn’t come.

The afternoons in Cork "I saw the world" shopping, and enjoying tea in Restaurants, etc.

I was very lonely as we arrived at the convent in a jaunty car, with my luggage piled up. The "Four Mothers" gave me a big welcome one took me off to the choir to consecrate me and dress me up. When I returned to Parlour with my long postulants dress and bonnet we started to cry!! But soon we dried our tears, and had a few strained laughs over "cuppa" served. I was really lonely when my loved ones left me. We all shed tears again as I was led away into the unknown.

Well there have been many "Ups & Downs" since then. I was happy as a Novice, and very naïve. On entering we were given a "Mother" to break us into our new life, and we were given "charges" Mine was Our Lady’s Corridor. I was told to sweep it on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and polish it with a leaden brush on the other days. On sweeping days I had to cover Our Lady’s statue with a white statue cover, and on polishing days, I was to wear the cover on my own Head! Simple Simon believed the "mentor" and marched around pushing the lead brush with decorated head! It was only when I heard the giggles around me that I realized I had been " had on". I learned to beware after that.

We were a happy crowd in those days. We welcomed new Postulants and played plenty of tricks on the latest arrivals. There were three Postulants entered a few weeks before me. They were all from the same school and close friends. I felt really out of things when they had fun about their school adventures at the "Black Gate" etc. I had no one to share "East the Road", or "Dunboy", or "Princess Beara" with me. But I survived. Thank God.

Mother Albeus was our Mistress of Novices. She trained us well - strict but very kind. We had recreation for a period after 4 P.M. dinner each day when (can’t read word), we walked around the garden chatting and telling the news of the day. On wet winter days we sat around the fire, and very often if she has it in the press, Mother Albeus would take out a box of chocolates to be passed around, and after she would think of some game to play. This day she said, "Let us all tell today what is our favourite recreation". And she gave us a few moments to think, then round with "music", "reading", "tennis", "dancing", ‘organ playing", etc. When it was my turn, innocently, I said, "My favourite recreation is to be tied to a Buoy with a box of chocolates and a good book." Consternation and dead silence. "I beg your pardon Sister, would you repeat what you said?" came from Mother. I did, and when I saw the faces I realized my mistake and spelt out "B U O Y" to the great relief and enjoyment when they realized that I was not utterly depraved coming from the god - forsaken place called Castletownbere! I soon changed their attitude to that, when I told them about the traffic lights, being stopped, and how busy it was in the Boulevards of C.T.B.! They took it all as good fun. I think my hardest parting - after Mother and Dad from C.T.B. was leaving my little "baby sister", Nita who had just made her first Holy Communion or was about to that year. I presented her with a silver medal and chain as a memento. She and baby brother, Walter were mercifully given a few pennies, and they went off happily to buy some chocolate, and so were absent from the "Exodus", thank god. I don’t know how they took the news when it was broken to them later on. I’d say the chocolate went a long way to "make up"!

I was very happy teaching Primary school, where I spent 50 unbroken years. I loved the children, and that made my work easier. The classes were very big, and the children very poor. Some of them had to be fed and dressed as they came to school without breakfast or anything to eat. We provided uniforms for the children too. I usually had grade 4, 5 or 6. I went ahead with my class from 4th to 6th where we did what was called the "Primary Cert." in those days. It is gone now. There is none of that object poverty now. The State provides for the unemployed, and there are "Children’s allowances".

I loved to teach singing, & we often put on our own little operetta. "Snow White" or "Cinderella" I taught "The Little Cookery (?) Girls" of my own childhood and it was always a big hit in Cork as it was in C.T.B.

And now for PADDY WHACK

He nearly cost me my vocation on my one only year with boys. They were 6-7 years old. I had 50 of them in class, but never had trouble controlling them. Our Rev. Mother Austin, who was very old and stooped (she was 86 or 7) came through the classrooms every morning. The children always stood up on her arrival and answered her "Good morning, Children" with "Good morning, Rev. Mother" This morning my star mischief maker saw her coming. He jumped up and shouted "Hi, lads, here comes the old bundle of rags". They all jumped up laughing and shouting in a most disorderly fashion. I was helpless, as was Rev. Mother, to quell the storm. As she walked through to the next class room Paddy Whack put a clapper in the fold of her habit, and a new burst of merriment followed. I was devastated. That evening I was sent for to the Principals office. She said, "Sr. Antonia I was surprised and dismayed to hear you have no control over your class. The children are always perfect when I visit." I told her what happened, and she warned me to see it didn’t happen again. I was "Down in the Depths". We had confession that evening, and I told the priest that I thought I should go home, that I had no vocation. "How long are you here child?" he asked. I said, "2 ½ years, Father and I am to be professed soon if I stay." "And what has upset you?" "Tis’ Paddy Whack, Father" "And who may Paddy Whack be?" I told him he was an impossible boy in my class. "Well my child," he said "Don’t let that upset you. Believe me you will have a Paddy Whack wherever you go, as long as you live." Sure enough, I had Julie Walsh next year. Just as big a heartbreak as Paddy Whack, but I had learnt my lesson.

Paddy Whack was transformed when I made him my "Right Hand Man" after duly correcting him for his behavior. He gave out copies, went to office with roll number, and cleaned the black - board. Altogether he became the "Model Pupil"! He was highly intelligent and shone at every exam after that.

Going back to Ethel. She was heartbroken after me. The day I entered she asked Rev. Mother if she could come too. Rev. Mother said that at 14 she was too young and to come back next year. Meanwhile Ethel did her own business, and was accepted in Mercy Convent, Tralee, Where Aunt Gertrude spent her life. Everything was fixed up - date for her entrance, Her "Trousseau" etc. She came to Cork to say Good- bye to me. This was 1922 when we had Civil War in Ireland. She spent the day with me, and I had my parting gift ready "Invitation of Christ" (cost me one shilling!). When we were chatting she didn’t want to speak about entering at all. When I asked "Who made your Postulants dress?" She said, "For Goodness sake let us talk about something nice!" Eventually, we said a heart broken good-bye and she went off to meet the lads who were to pick her up at the Munster hotel to take her home in their car. But when the car arrived they refused to take her, as an ambush had been threatened (which actually came off, but they were not the victims). They wouldn’t risk taking a girl in such danger. So poor Ethel was left high and dry, and with no money, as she walked down Patrick St. wondering what she would do. Imagine her joy and relief when she walked into Larry Healy, whom we all knew so well, as they were customers of ours at home. So thank god she met him and told him of her problem. He said, "Come home with me."(They were living in Kinsale then) "Father and Mother are here with me and we will be going home in our motor boat soon." So God was taking care of Ethel as He does of all of us always. She spent two happy weeks in Kinsale and ended up losing her vocation, and getting the one God had arranged for her! She went to one of the Carmelite (?) priests, and told him her story. He said, "Go ahead child, this is God’s will for you. You would never stick in a convent." How wise he was! Larry went to San Francisco for two years before he sent for Ethel. She taught music for two years, and went out to Larry in ’26. She went to our Grand Aunt, Mrs. Judge. Teddy’s brother, Monsignor Henry Lyne, married them, and the rest of Ethel’s story you know.

Two weeks after Ethel said good-bye to me to enter the convent, Uncle Henry (Aunt Agnes’ husband) came to me late one evening very worried. He greeted me with "Kathleen, where is Ethel?" "Isn’t she in the convent in Tralee?" I said. He answered "She never came home from Cork, and your Mother and Father are in an awful state." As I’ve said Civil war was on here - Post was disrupted, telegraph wires cut everywhere, and there was no way Ethel could send a message home. The boys who were to take Ethel home knew nothing of what happened to her. So Ethel was out with Larry boating, sailing, swimming and enjoying herself without a care. After two weeks in Kinsale she arrived home in the ferry "The Sir Robert Hay" whose Captain’s wife very kindly offered to take her home. So she sailed right into the pier in style, and Mum and Dad were so overjoyed to see her safe and well, that, that I am sure there was no scolding. I never heard there was. And when she broke the news of her engagement to Larry, I don’t know what they said, or how they fixed up with the Tralee nuns.

Madge had her own romance. As I have said, she trained to be a nurse in the South Infirmary where she graduated with high honours. Don was a patient of hers, and of course they fell in love! He was assistant Bank Manager - Provincial Bank - at that time. They were a very happy pair. I too loved Don, and I was crazy about their three boys, especially John, as he was the oldest and a darling baby. They settled down in "Corragriana" in St. Clares Ave, near Poor Clare Convent. The three boys were born there, and when Charles was three months old, they moved out to a beautiful new home Coolroe. They were there from ’37 to ’41 when they moved back to Don’s old home in Skibbereen (?) - "Gleann-na-Smot"(?), where they stayed till ’49 when they all went to U.S.A. Don was manager for years before he retired Gleann-na-smot.

When they were in Coolroe, Michael fell and damaged his leg so seriously that he had to spend months, maybe years - I forget exactly how long, going from one hospital to another, and consulting every and any doctor. Finally Madge took him to Dublin to Dr. Chance, who said there was one man he could recommend, but he was in San Francisco, and she would have to go with the child, and it would cost a lot of money. She brought the story home to Don, and he said straight away "We’ll all go. I am free to go, as I am retired and you would need me." So the long and short of it you know. They all went off. A happy united family - all out for the good of the weak one. You can imagine the little nun they left behind! They were always so close and so good to me. They had the joy of seeing John ordained a Dominican priest by Arch Bishop Finbarr Ryan. To this day, John is a great comfort to his Mother and to Auntie Ethel. Every week-end that he is free, he takes them out for a lovely ride to see the sea-side or country. And he takes good care of them both. Michael’s leg was a perfect cure, thank god. He is happily married to Sue, and they have two darling children - Kathleen and John. Charlie married Anne, and they have three fine grown ups boys now. Kevin paid us a visit in Ireland a year ago. He and I holidayed together on C.T.B that year. So thank god all turned out so well for Madge and Don. Don is safe with God now for some years. May he rest in peace.

Mamma Hanley was Honora O’Dwyer, and a very beautiful woman as I remember her. I did not either of my grandfathers, they were gone to God before my time.

Mother, (Anna Marie) was the eldest of Mamma Hanley’s girls. Next, Aunt May who became Mrs. Jerry Murphy, and whose grandson, Dermot, runs the Bridge Supermarket - still in C.T.B.

Aunt Agnes married "Uncle Henry" Harrington of Allihies (?). They had a thriving business there, but finally they too went off as a family to U.S.A

"Aunty Rose" was a Mercy Nun in our own local convent, and I venture to say she was a Saint. We all loved her, especially as children, because she had big sleeves from which very many unexpected dainties and treats could (can’t read word) as she "minded" us at play-time in the school yard! After a Sister’s Profession there was sure to be a lovely iced "wedding cake" up the sleeve. I’ve an idea that Aunty Rose must have been Mother’s step sister, as she was "always" very old and long retired from teaching when we knew her. When we got a new baby - which happened nearly every 18 months, Mother would send me up to convent to tell Aunty Rose. She’d roll her eyes up to Heaven and say "Oh, the little angel he/she will be when baptized…. Tell Mother to correct and train her today. Tomorrow will be too late, and the child will be lost!!" or something to that effect. I think Aunty Rose was a saint.

"The Boys" were Uncle Mick (whose grandson (can’t read the name) runs the old family drapery), he married Lena Power, and they had one daughter, Evelyn, who is now Sr. Oliver in Presentation (?) Convent, Banden. Poor Lena died when Evelyn was only three years old. After 5 or 6 years Uncle Mick married Hannah Kelleher from Macroon (?). They had six sons, two drapers, two Bank Managers, and two Doctors. All doing well, thank God.

Uncle Jim married Mary Dunne, and they had a shoe shop next door to Uncle Mick. That is gone now, as are all of their family. Nora became a Sister of Charity and died last year R.I.P. Kathleen became Mrs. Denny (?) Ryan. She too died a few years ago leaving three lovely daughters and a son Peter. All doing well. Vincent is a retired Bank Manager, whose wife Leasie is dead R.I.P. They had no family. Barry is in Dublin Corporation, his wife Bea is a gracious, kindly lady. They have four grown children. Kieran , the youngest Hanley boy is a Jesuit. Has been Superior for years and has done great work.

The last of Mamma Hanley’s son was Dan, "Brother Vincent" - a teaching brother, O.M.I. He came home every summer for a little holiday, and he always came laden with small silver coins to give as gifts to his numerous small nieces and nephews! We loved him of course for this and for his Dublin accent! As he put his hand in his pocket for a 3rd, 6th or 11th according to your age. He’d say "Kathleen (or Ethel or Madge) you are a lovely child", and of course we believed the "Man of God"! His holiday allowance was very small; I heard when I grew up, making his generosity to small children all the greater.

So much for Mamma Hanley and her family. I loved to "steal" over to her as a small 3 year old. But I was forbidden to cross the road alone. Being "a daughter of love" I chanced it this day, and next thing I found myself sitting on the road looking up at a horse’s four legs. Uncle Jim grabbed me from under the horse, and brought me into Mamma Hanley who instead of scolding me for being disobedient, decked me out in a beautiful new red coat and red cap, both trimmed with black asterkan (?), and sent me home to Mother as "Proud as Punch". She too was merciful and didn’t "kill" me for being disobedient. She was glad to have her little "Tramp" back safe and sound.

Which reminds me of the habit father had of giving people "Knick-names". I was "Tramp" as I loved visiting neighbours, and in that way I often had a few dinners! I loved dining out as a small girl! Ethel was "Bamba" an old name for Ireland. I forgot Madges. Henry, whose initials were H.R.H was called "His Royal Highness". Uncle Henry and Aunt Agnes were "The Squire" and "O.K.", Uncle Mick and Hannah "Romeo and Juliet", Uncle Jerry and Aunt May were "Charlie and Bess" and so on.

Aunt Gertrude came home to see Mamma every summer. As far as I can remember she and her companion stayed a month. B&B in the convent then home to Mamma for the whole day. It must have been very hard on Mother (and Julie) to provide separate meals daily for so long. The Sisters were not allowed to eat with us in the dining room, so their meals were served upstairs in the parlour - No joke carting heavy trays from kitchen upstairs which must have meant a lot of trouble. Thinking back now, it must have been very hard on the companion, Sr. Aloysius, to put the whole day with us children, as Aunt Gertrude had to have hours alone with Mamma. Sr. Aloysius taught us children lovely recitations and action songs. I remember "Five Little Pussy Cats", and "The Bell Goes Ringing For Sara" a comic action song, etc etc. We were very fond of Sr. Aloysius as we were of Aunt Gertrude, tho’ we were more in "awe" of her.

There is so much to tell about her. She was the light and joy and comfort of our happy home. Never would you come from school to "No Mother". She was always there to hear our little bits of news, or to kiss a scratched and bleeding knee to "make it better" before the bandage was put on.

I think Mother was a Saint. Hail, snow or storm, she did her best to train us to follow her footsteps. She would come to our room in her dressing gown to call us, urging us (Ethel and I) to be ready to go out with her. Alas, when she came back, we were rarely "ready". On one occasion she found me fast asleep with one stocking on, sitting on the "Pouffe". Ethel was not quite as lazy as poor me. Anyway, to give us our due, we sometimes made it to join Mother in her pew.

She trained us to visit the Blessed Sacrament going to and coming from school. And she recommended a longer visit before tea every evening. If there were "Devotions" in church of course we were expected to go, and we loved Benediction with the lovely incense and singing. If Miss Flanagan could not attend for some reason, Ethel and I would stand in for her and play for Benediction. Mother taught us many beautiful children’s prayers, which I say to this day!

Mother was a great story teller. Her favourite time for us girls was bed-time when she had us three (Ethel, Madge and I) under her hands, as she "did our hair" before bed-time. Of course she knew that her stories kept us quiet, with no running about and that is what she wanted. Very often the veracity of the story suffered, as she’d forget that the "Brave Gallant Prince" on his "Dashing White Horse" had taken away the heroine and made her Princess. Next evening the Princess might be "Happy Forever After" in a Convent!! But we never allowed that to pass "Why had she to go to the Convent?" When the "Handsome Gallant Prince married her last night." But Mother had her answer pat, "Ah, the Poor Prince died, and the Princess’s heart was broken" and we had to be satisfied with that until her next exciting installment which poor Mother must have found it pretty hard to provide at short notice!

I’ll never forget the anguish we all suffered when Mother was taken away to a hospital in Dublin to have a major operation. Father went with, and stayed until she was out of danger. But we at home were heartbroken. Before leaving, Dad took me aside and told me how serious the operation was, and to pray and get the children to pray. He left me in charge of everything. Poor me, I was just scared to death. Up to church I went, and then and there implored our beloved Sacred Heart to bring Mother safely home to us - even if she had to stay in bed forever more, as long as we could visit her and keep her safe and sound with us! And the good Lord heard our prayers, and Mother came home. She did have to stay in bed for nearly two years, but she was there for us all to love and visit. Little did we dreamt then that she would "live to die" in San Francisco with Ethel. She and Dad are buried together there, as they always wished. May their dear souls rest in peace.

It was such a comfort to have him in and around the house. We felt so secure and safe when we heard his heavy step going around last thing at night to see that all the doors were locked.

I remember, as a small child, going uptown with Dad. My small hand felt so "happy" in his big warm ones. When a fierce looking dog approached I looked bravely in the face, as I knew I was safe with my big Dad holding my hand! Usually I fled when I saw a dog (?). The "Man on the wheels" and "Many Pat" were two others that scared the life out of children.

Dad often put me on "Bess" (our horse) with the reins in my hands to ride across the square. I felt like a real jockey! On Christmas night Dad was "extra special" he played "Blind Man’s Bluff" with us all in the shop hall where we had plenty of room to run and play, and shout to our hearts content as well as having plenty of lemonade to drink! Dad had no voice. Christmas night was the only time he "sang a song" - Always the same one and it always brought tears to Mother’s eyes, and she say "No Michael, No more, Michael" but on he went. I remember one line - "Good-bye me lads good-bye. I’ll stick to the ship lads, you save your lives. I’ve No One to love me. You’ve got your children and wives." No wonder Mother cried!!

Dad regulated our pocket money too. It was called our "Feirin" (?), as we got it on fair days! One penny per month, for small people. Older - 3rd or 6th teenagers, one shilling which I never reached. I never squandered my penny in one go. I always changed it into two half pennies, and I bought wonders with each! On Sundays Dad had our offerings for Mass laid out on the cheffonier (?) in the dining room, and we all had to claim our own before going out to Mass. One penny for children, two pence for adults!

Sometimes Dad teased Mother calling her "Jones", Mr. Jones was a "traveller" who lodged with Mrs. Lyne across the square, when he was on business in C.T.B. Every night before Mother went to bed she pulled up the blind and reported Jones isn’t gone to bed yet. "Our Jones is up very late tonight" So (can’t read) Dad christened her Jones!

I nearly forgot our small sister, Gertrude, who died when she was only two years old. I can only barely remember her. She was a beautiful child with two huge brown eyes and a pale, sad, pretty face. Mamma "minded" her with a special love. I remember seeing her in Mamma’s lap in the drapery side of our shop. Sometimes, I suppose when the child was weak, Mamma would call to Mother in the opposite (grocery and bar) side of shop "Brandy Anna", so the little one must have thought that was Mother’s name, as she always called her Brandy Anna after that!

I.

Jesus, gentle shepherd hear me,

Bless thy little child tonight.

Thro’ the darkness be thou near me.

Keep me safe till morning light.

II.

All this day thy hand has led me,

And I Thank thee for thy care.

Thou hast warmed, and clothed, and fed me.

Listen to my evening prayer.

III.

May my sins be forgiven.

Bless the friends I love so well.

Take us, when we die to heaven.

Happy there with Thee dwell.

The Good Shepherd

I.

I met the Good Shepherd as out on the plain

As homeward he carried his lost one again

I marvelled how patiently His burden he bore

And as He passed by me I knelt to adore.

II.

Oh! Shepherd, good Shepherd, and is it for me

Such grevious affliction has fallen on Thee?

Oh! Then, let me strive by the burden throw last

Borne

To give thee no longer occasion to mourn.

Her Grand Finale!

Heaven is the branch,

Mary the flower,

Jesus be with me

In my dying hour.

That’s as much as I can remember of the prayers I learnt at Mother’s knee about 1904 or 5! So make all allowances for faulty memory and spelling!