Going Home

In two days I will be embarking on my fourth journey to Ireland, the land from which my Father's family emigrated in the early twentieth century.



 My grandfather arrived in New York from Galway in 1908.  My grandmother, who also arrived in New York  in 1908, joined her sister, known to us as Aunt Annie, and worked as a domestic servant in Manhattan, something many young Irish women did at the turn of the last century. Now, our family lore indicates that they met on board the immigration ship, but records show she arrived on the 25 of March and he on the 27th, but a shipboard romance seems so very intriguing. Date of meeting not withstanding, they were married in St Francis De La Salle Roman Catholic Church on East 96th Street New York City, in 1913. Their six children were born in 1916, 1917, 1920, 1923, 1925, and 1927.

Elizabeth, Frances, Jack, Nancy, Teresa Redden 1943

My grandfather worked on the subway system and was active in his union.  I know this because he was arrested in July of 1916 in an unauthorized labor action on the NY subway and bus system.  He is probably the only relative I have who had his name published in the New York Times.  Interestingly enough, my father ,brother and I were/are active Union members.  My Father was a Shop Stewart for the Teamsters; I am a member and former chapter leader of the United Federation of Teachers, and my younger brother is a union official with the Operating Engineers. Humm...genetics? Perhaps.

Growing up Irish in New York was certainly interesting. The parish church was the center of our being. And contrary to common belief, the Irish do not love corned beef and cabbage; I do not eat it at all. Most prefer something else. On St. Patrick's Day, for example, I eat salmon.

I also remember certain traditions that were passed on. To this day, I do not drink coffee; I drink strong, fresh, dark tea...with milk, not cream, not half and half. Oatmeal is served with cream, butter and salt...no sugar.  I also now add raisins. No shoes on the table!!!! EVER! Bad luck! On Christmas Eve, put a candle in the window...because Mom said so.

The very first time I went to Ireland was in February 2001. I took my two daughters over Presidents' Week because I got a great price for five days and four nights. I was amazed that everyone I saw looked like someone I knew at home. In Galway, several people stopped me to ask directions, but once I opened my mouth, they knew I was not a local.  This has happened to me over and over again  in Ireland.

And the music...I had heard it all before...at home, at parties, at dances and other events like caeli, which I have witnessed both here in the US and abroad: fiddle, concertina, pipes and guitar with a tenor or alto singing.

And I will go again this Friday. This time I will meet up with some cousins whose Grandparents did not emigrate; they remained behind.

It will be interesting. The family in America has spread far and wide: New England, Middle Atlantic, Southern States.  And we have prospered; Entrepreneurs, Educators, Labor Officials, Accountants, Contractors, Bankers...we have become the American mainstream.

Earlier this year,  I met my second cousin, once removed, in Edinburgh.  We had a great visit.  As I was leaving, I told him I was gong to Ireland in the near future.  He took my hand and said, "When are you going home?" I had never thought of that before.  My own family was rooted in New York, and I thought of that place as home.  But now I know there is another place where I belong. A place across the sea...a very large one...it is called the Atlantic. And when I go there, to Ireland, I will be welcomed as one who is truly coming home.

So....We will meet up with the Irish relatives...it will certainly be interesting.  I will keep you posted.