I’m Irish — damn near fully Irish to boot. It has always been my family’s defining characteristic. This doesn’t make us unique because I believe many Irish-American families present themselves this same way. We still have relatives (distant cousins) who work as fishermen in Tralee and our family farm is still in existence in a small central town named Blacklion, which resides right on the border with the north. One of my aunts was excited to announce that our family’s farm also has castle ruins on the property. This sounds incredible until you’ve actually been to Ireland and quickly realize that there are castle ruins everywhere. Still, our roots run deep in the rolling green hills and rich soil of the land which helps produce the best dairy you have ever experienced.
But none of this is really the point.
The point is that most of our familial histories, when viewed from our Americanized lens, fail to properly tell our stories. It’s akin to flying over Niagara Falls in a plane and assuming you’ve had the true experience. We need to go back to where our bloodlines first took shape and sometimes do nothing but just exist in the place of our ancestors in order to even begin to appreciate what gets passed down to us. Something happens to us here in America, in this country of bounty and entitlement, our collective sense of purpose and being get warped. We struggle to see the truth in the world and instead focus on self-serving arguments in an attempt to keep our fragile desires propped up. We love to equivocate but at what cost? When we do this, we lose a piece of our own worth in the process. So blinded by self righteous anger and affronted by opposing views, we lose sight of what’s most important…community. Instead of lifting each other up, we pull down and force others into a pit of our own creation.
I’m forty-one years old and until February of 2020, I’d lived my entire life in New York. It’s etched into my soul for as long as I live. In May of 2004, my wife and I took our first trip to Ireland. Upon arrival, it sprinkled rain for about ten minutes after getting into our rental car and that was the last of the rain we’d see all week. We had a hotel room booked in Dublin for the final two nights of our stay but the rest of the week was solely up to us. We flew across an ocean with a few small suitcases and a map — nothing else. The goal for day one was to see if we could make it to Killarney by night. The plane landed, we got our rental car, opened the map and set out. Our first stop was in Cashel to grab a bite and a pint and then visit Saint Patrick’s Rock (rock of Cashel). I was immediately struck by phantoms of my past. There’s an energy at play in Ireland which is hard to describe — an overwhelming sense of spirit. From here we made our way across the southern portion of the island and into Cork and then further into Blarney to visit the famous castle grounds. We arrived in Killarney as night began to fall — exactly on schedule. Our entire plan consisted of finding a bed and breakfast with a room available. This little detail ended up being the stroke of genius we truly needed. The Irish are warm and inviting if not just a tad acerbic at times. This isn’t anything I can’t handle because I grew up in a large New York Irish family — sarcasm is second nature. These people are my people and there’s an immediate and innate acceptance and approval between us. Check in isn’t a simple: here’s a key, good night. No, these lodgings are somebody’s home. They want to show it off and invite you into their life, even if just for a night. I’ll cherish these memories and the people who helped create them for the rest of my time.
We woke to an amazing breakfast and set out once again for more adventure. Today we drove the famous Ring of Kerry. It’s a scenic drive with some of the most gorgeous vistas you could ever hope to lay eyes on. It was on this day when the moment of all moments struck me. The unassuming little town of Waterville loomed ahead and as I gazed out to our right, with the bay in my sights, inspiration struck. I asked my wife to pull over when she got the chance because I needed to get down to the water. Once parked, I hopped out and walked down to the water’s edge. There are several natural rock jetties reaching their way out into the sea and we were at low tide so I followed one of the jetties out as far as I could. There I stopped and took it all in. I breathed in the salty air, breeze pulling gently at my windbreaker. The rocks, the water, they both called to me — a welcome greeting. I crouched down and fumbled through some of the smaller stones, skipping the flatter ones out into the bay and I thought of my grandfather. He taught me how to skip stones on Greenwood Lake in New York. There’s a restaurant there on the water and we’d sometimes go there on Sundays after church. There, at the edge of the crushed rock parking lot, we’d stand with him behind me, showing me how to hold the stone properly and what angle to toss it for maximum skips across the water’s surface.
Time is a spiderweb.
I stood there at the edge of land, staring out into the vastness of the world and felt my ancestors behind me — their arms around me, urging me to never let go. I brushed my hands back and forth in the water and listened to the sound it made. I’ve never felt more connected to a place in my entire life. I wept and I don’t know exactly what moved me to tears but an overwhelming sense of…sense is perhaps what did it. Crouched down at the edge of the world in this little town named Waterville, I picked up one more stone and slid it into my pants’ pocket. I still have the stone — a small piece of home.
There’s much more to cover but I think I’ll leave the rest for next week. I could bore you with more details from our first trip to Ireland. It was an extraordinary trip from start to finish but nothing could ever compare to that moment in Waterville. That single moment shaped not only the rest of our trip but also my entire worldview for the years to come.
Next week, I’ll be back to continue this story with a trip to Ellis Island. Until then, love each other.
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