“And while we were talking of days that have gone,
The woes of the world for a time they were gone”
Pardon me as I paraphrase the words of Percy French in his lovely song The Mountains Of Mourne.
In his lyrics, French imagined a conversation between two Co Down natives in London. One was policeman Peter O Loughlin and the second was the narrator of the song.
The two met and for as long as they talked, they were oblivious to the rest of the world. It was like that here in our house on Monday night.
A cousin home on holidays called and for more than two hours the world passed by as we walked down the boreens of memory and connections, and things that once were, but are now gone or vanishing fast.
I suppose in times gone by the term ‘returned yank’ might be applied to a visiting relation from the United States. Generally, though, it applied to a person who had not been home to the Emerald Isle for years, maybe not for decades.
Not so with my third cousin John O Sullivan, as he’s a regular visitor. While his parents Pad and Mary were alive, he was known to come across the Atlantic frequently. Like my parents, John’s father and mother are gone from us now, but he still gets back to Ireland at least once a year - sometimes more often.
John has recently retired from the hotel/hospitality industry. His work at management level with two huge international groups saw him travel, literally, all over the world. Based in Washington DC with years now, he has a vast store of memories from business trips to hotels across the globe.
As we sat in front of a roaring fire on Monday night, the issue of global warming and climate change came up and we agreed that even in our lifetimes we’ve seen huge change.
Here in Ireland, we probably don’t realise that generally speaking we have a great climate, temperate with not too much of anything. This was brought home to me when John described a hotel in Anchorage, Alaska -open all year round with sub zero temperatures all the time.
Lads, I love a good crisp, frosty day but -20 degrees, whew - give me dear old Ireland anytime!
Though John O’Sullivan has travelled all over the world and enjoyed visiting so many ‘exotic’ places, he still gets really animated when back home in his own place.
He grew up with his brothers Ted -his twin - and Ivan in Rathaneague, Bartlemy. This place has been their family home for generations.
Rathaneague is translated from the Irish language as ‘Rath an Fia’, the Fort of the Deer - the remains of the old ‘rath or fort can still be traced.
In the 1800s, the house on the land was titled Hunting Fort House. Though the farm and house are almost 20 miles from Lismore, Rathaneague was originally part of the Duke of Devonshire’s estate. This area would have been seen as a hunting district for the ‘good and great gentry’ in an era when the landlords reigned supreme in Ireland.
Though our farm and the O Sullivan land are in view of each other, different landlords held each. In my great, grandfather’s time he had to pay his rent to the Bury-Barry family of Ballyclough House, Kilworth -these Barrys were an offshoot of the Barrymores of Castlelyons, Carrigtwohill and Buttevant.
We mused on the generations gone before us and the struggles they had to rear families and try and hold onto their ancestral acres.
The common link which makes John and me third cousins goes back to the 1860s and the Murphy family of Moulane, Rathcormac, and later Bride Street. One girl of this family, Bridget, married my great, grandfather Jeremiah Twomey. Bridget’s sister Mary married John Sweeney.
In turn, Mary and John Sweeney,s daughter Mary - always known as Ciss - married John O Sullivan of Rathaneague -they were the grandparents of the John who travelled back along ‘the boreens of other days and other ways’ on Monday night.
My grandfather John Twomey was a first cousin of Ciss O Sullivan, and Pad O Sullivan (John’s father) and my mother were second cousins -making John and me third cousins.
Our grandparents were not alone third cousins but also great friends and people who valued each other’s company and advice.
They say ‘blood is thicker than water’ and that was certainly the way it was with the O Sullivans and the Twomeys.
When John’s father and his siblings were growing up, Rathaneague was a great house for gatherings with music and song - all the O Sullivans were richly talented in playing instruments and singing. Stories of those parties - after races, thrashings, sports meetings and family events - were often recalled by my late mother with a smile!
As we spoke the other night of travel and family and a myriad of other things, John described the area around Keame and Ballyoneen as like ‘Tir na nOg’. This was where he walked as a child to meet and talk with the neighbours and the old people - some born in the 1800s.
Just a few weeks ago, John was sad - as we all were - at the death of Maureen Gubbins, the oldest person from the parish. Down the years, John told me that on a particularly hectic day in his office in faraway Washington DC, he would just lock the door, turn off the phone, and peruse this page of The Echo - it was like immersing himself for a few minutes in his own culture, parish and upbringing.
When he comes home, he always visits Mount Melleray Abbey outside Cappoquin in West Waterford. It was here he received his secondary education and he has fond memories of the Cistercian Abbey.
He was there last week - much quitter now than when it bustled with a huge religious community back in the 1970s. The numbers now are small, but hopefully it will continue in its vital role as it approaches the bi-centenary of its foundation in nine years’ time.
We had a Murphy reunion a few years back and John still uses that family tree as a reference point for cousins and relations. Like every family group, relations pass away but new generations keep coming along. We spent a few grand hours talking and reminiscing. We didn’t solve any of the world’s problems - then, we didn’t mean to!
Family, friends, homeland and friendship are surely the most important things in life and they are aspects of life that bind us together.
John is retired now so he plans to travel more and ‘come home’ more. As he heads back from rural Bartlemy to the metropolis that is Washington DC, he will be carrying precious memories with him.
As everyone knows, I love talking. Last Monday evening was a very special, even sacred time for me - and no doubt for John also.
The world is now a smaller place than at anytime in its history. We have seen more change in the last 30 years than all that happened in the previous century.
Yes, change is happening and we can’t stop it, but some things will never change - good friends and great conversation.
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