29 March 2017
Newry Street Post Office :
The first twenty years, or so, of my life I spent in that village and what a wonderful
boyhood l had!
My mother, Frances, ran the Post Office from approx. 1946 until her death in 1957. She
had worked in the old Post Office before her marriage. It was situated in the building
where Eileen (Mrs.Thornton) now lives. She had been sent there as a newly trained
morse code operator to assist the elderly postmistress, a Mrs.Martin. By co-incidence
shortly after her marriage she would end up living right next door and some few years
later that's where the new Post Office was based.
My father, Charlie, worked in the railway offices at Greenore Junction.
At the far end of the Newry St. you can just make out small notice boards on
the wall of that second last house. It was the old Police Barracks. My grandfather
William was assigned there from Dundalk as sergeant. He originated from Roundwood
Co.Wicklow. Cardinal Logue befriended him. It was partly because, we think, he admired
the practice of the police March through the streets to Mass every Sunday and
he enjoyed participating in target shooting quite often with my grandfather. My father
recalled how the Cardinal was in fact a 'crack shot'!
Where the cinema was built there used to be an old store and before that the old
courthouse. It was burnt down in the 'Trouble'.
I well recall the fun we had while the cinema was being built; some jumping onto the
running boards of the lorries as they shunted and stalled and pranged amidst the
clouds of dust and the blasting of rocks and not such genteel language in accompaniment.
My maternal grandfather was a deep sea schooner skipper. He shipped out of Annagassan
harbour which was an important port estuary in those days. In retirement he was the Pilot
there and had many unusual experiences. Once he piloted a fanciful yacht carrying the
young bride and groom setting off on honeymoon from Castlebellingham Castle just
after their wedding. They were aristocrats, one a Bellingham.
My paternal grandmother had nine children. Her funeral, we understand went from Cford
to her native Cootehill area by train. William remarried and had three more boys, born
here. Vincent, Christopher and Richard.
My paternal grandfather is buried in Holy Trinity Cemetery. My maternal grandfather is
buried in Killsaran.
May Jesus enfold them all in His love.
Cathal DelaneyMore > (0 comments)
29 January 2017
Memory: Visiting Carlingford
As child of 10 or 11 I visited my Uncle Pat Joe Kearney (my dad is Des Kearney) when he lived up the hill and we had a wonderful week visiting relatives and playing round the town. 3 real memories that stay with me are getting in trouble for trying to empty the well in the back yard and making it muddy, helping to ring the church bell, and going to church after visiting relatives who were harvesting the previous day and watching my dad kneel down and and leave two piles of wheat grain on the floor that had collected in the turnups of his trousers the previous day. All things that would never have happened in Blackpool. Your website has jogged so many ageing memories Thank You.More > (0 comments)
29 January 2017
ooooh the smell of Mrs Harolds shop. Anybody remember...?More > (0 comments)
29 January 2017
It is Friday morning 1st May 2009 and I have just received a text from my father to say that he will be live on radio LMFM at approximately 10:45am to promote his new website www.carlingfordpeople.com. I'm not quite sure where to locate this particular station as I am a regular listener to Pat Kenny who broadcasts between 10am and 12 noon.
Excitedly, I dash into the office, with Jason, my 16th month old hot on my heels and do a quick search on the internet. I return to the kitchen and tune in my radio accordingly. It is only 09:45am so I busy myself with various things to do conscious not to venture too far from the vicinity of the radio lest I miss his moment!
Dad has been retired now for just over 4 years and spent the first year engaging in one of his most favourite past times - the garden! He has always been a forward thinker and so threw himself into creating a garden at the back of our house which would be both his and Mums whenever they should decide to sell "Shalom". Some years prior to his retirement, he had a back operation from which he never quite fully recovered but despite this he was not prepared to sacrifice his passion for gardening. The pains however threatened to get worse and some months later he found himself back in the Mater Hospital undergoing a fourth back procedure.
Having slowly recovered from his operation Mum insisted he take things easy and perhaps in hindsight slightly regrets the notion as she was soon to find her husband taking up permanent residence in the kitchen, perched comfortably on his newly acquired leather swivel chair, eyes fixed on the screen in front! With the prospect of a new and exciting idea on the horizon, the garden had to take a back seat, however is consistently and carefully rescued from neglect by Mum who gives it the attention it needs and deserves.
As I wait for the DJ to announce my father, I am drawn to the website and decide to record a memory. I am stiffened at the realisation that none come to mind and am left feeling a little distraught that perhaps I have none to share. I abandon the PC as I hear Dads voice over the airwaves.
He begins quietly with hesitation in his voice, stumbling a little over his words. I know that although he is a more than competent orator the anticipation of such an interview would have tied many knots in his stomach. As the interview progressed, my sense of his nervousness dissipated as he found his stride. He spoke of days of old and people that has passed but had not been forgotten. He talked about community and the importance of it and family. I felt a sense of pride as the interview came to a close.
As that day progressed, my mind was filled with on ocean of memories from my first kiss in the Queens Garden of King Johns Castle to the Oyster Festivals of old, from Pope John Paul’s visit to Drogheda to my first and only year in St. Michaels College Omeath (now The Tain Village) with Father Kenny as principal .
I will at some future date enjoy recounting in detail some of these memories but for today this memory of my father is the one I would like to share.
Monday, May 18 2009 - 11:08 PM
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29 January 2017
An excerpt taken from the"McKevitt Family” Web site
Tom McKevitt now lives in Blue Ridge Georgia U.S.A.
A note from Tom McKevitt:
MCKEVITT IS MY NAME, Thomas Lawrence McKevitt but I’m called Tom. I'm your host, and I'm pleased to bring you The McKevitt Family web site. "McKevitt Family" is intended to mean all who are named McKevitt, or are of McKevitt families around the world; and that because McKevitts everywhere are indeed of one family.
My father grew up in Chelsea, Massachusetts, and I in the Roslindale/West Roxbury section of Boston. I made my first personal appearance at Brigham & Women's Boston Lying Inn, where it was claimed in song that "...every day is Labor Day at the Boston Lying Inn...," in late February 1930, amid the Great Depression that followed an October 1929 market crash. My father was Francis John McKevitt, my mother Gertrude Josephine McKevitt, nee Clifford. I was born the youngest of three; Lawrence "Larry" Timothy McKevitt being the eldest, Paulina Agnes Maloney, nee McKevitt and called Pam, being the middle child. My grandfather, Patrick McKevitt, grew up in a place called the North Commons, between the medieval town of Carlingford and the townland of Omeath, in County Louth, Ireland. For some reason, rather than walk a mile on Sundays and Holy Days to St. Michael's Catholic Church in Carlingford, he preferred walking about three miles to St. Laurence Catholic Church, in Omeath. His father was called "Big Arthur," and his mother was the former Catherine Henry, daughter of Patrick and Catherine Henry. Yes, Patrick Henry. The Henry family lived closer to St. Laurence's, and also near Newry, close to the Lough.More > (0 comments)