It is always a thrill when 'oral history' family stories passed down generations are confirmed during family history research, when they suddenly make more sense. Like my sister, I've found that remembered stories, stories passed on by our mother, are usually 'right' and can often provide wonderful 'leads'. Oral histories suggested that my grandmother, Rose Lee (McCann) had worked 'in the canteens' in England during World War I. My grandfather James Lee's war records show that he had been stationed at Perham Downs on the Salisbury Plains in Sussex during the war - coming across a photo of the Perham Downs canteen gave me goosebumps, as this could have been the canteen in which she worked. Other stories suggested that she may have run a boarding house and even a hotel at some time. Now while I don't have evidence of this, a cousin posted this picture on Facebook some time ago, with the caption 'having breakfast using my grandmother's cutlery'. Rose's cutlery is rather beautiful, isn't it. A copy of 'The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam' treasured by her mother, my 'Aunty Bunty', was equally treasured by this cousin. Intrigued, I took the photo below. The publication date, 1896 suggests that it could have been given my my grandfather to my grandmother, or perhaps by a family member to them both, as a wedding present in 1904. It made me feel quite strange looking at it, as my parents had a copy of 'The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam' in our bookshelves when I grew up. None of my friend's families seemed to have a copy in their bookshelves. Did my father's parents give this to my mother and father as a present at their war time wedding in Sydney 1942? If not, did my my father give it to my mother, remembering that his parents had a copy? What of an Irish connection? My mother passed on her understanding that my grandfather's Devitt forebears had left Ireland for Liverpool, moving on from there to Newcastle Upon Tyne in Northern England where they settled. This all appears to have been true, though there was an intervening period in which my Irish born bricklayer/stone mason great great grandfather Edward Patrick Devitt and his wife Anne (possibly Rourke or O'Rourke) lived in Manchester where my great grandfather was born in 1858 (1871 UK Census).
Sometimes oral history is a bit sketchy and there are 'holes' even 'black holes', often resulting from family secrets! My Scottish born father died when I was fifteen, limiting my accress to Lee stories to those told during my childhood. I knew my father was born in Edinburgh, remember him talking about Leith and 'The Firth of Forth', I thought I was a Scot through and through on my father's side. However reading through Scottish census data during the 1800's I realised I was much more Irish than I thought. My great grandfathers, Anthony Lee and Bernard McCann were both born in Ireland, as was Rose Anne McCann (Kelly), my great grandmother. While my other great grandmother, Barbara Lee (Sullivan) had been born in Scotland, her father had been born in Ireland. All my paternal great great grandparents had been born in Ireland, appearing to have migrated to Scotland in the Irish Famine decades or after political unrest or economic decline in Ireland. This has led me to reflect on the depth of the Irish connection, to think about whether it has influenced me, to look for remnants of my Irish history in my life. I've come up with one or two - the first is that above our kitchen table when I was young was an illustrated poem which I loved to look at. The illustration featured a road up to a house on a hill. It has taken me some time to fully remember, but now I realise, and my brother has thought back to confirm, that it was 'The Irish Blessing'..."May the road rise to meet you, May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face, The rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of his hand". I wonder why it was there, who chose it, and why? No one else had an 'Irish Blessing' at their house and my father seemed to be quite fond of it. On St Patrick's Day at 'the Northo' in Benalla just a few weeks ago, my sister and I were singing along with the Scottish fiddle band 'Nessie' playing as part of St Patrick's Day celebrations. We were singing along with 'Cockles and Mussels'... you know, 'In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty'... Suddenly we looked at one another, knowingly, recognizing that when we were little we sat around the kitchen table after meals, singing this song with our father, who had taught it to us. I was telling this to my father's also Scottish born cousin, 90 year old Bill Tully, son of my paternal grandfather's sister Elizabeth, who now lives in a nursing home setting in Vancouver. Bill laughed and said, that is strange, as it is a song which he has chosen to sing recently with his carer. His grandfather, my great grandfather, was born in Ireland, first appearing in the Scottish census in 1871 after the family had migrated from County Roscommon in Ireland. So, sometimes it is the family story, the somewhat 'out of place' treasured family object or paperwork, or the rather odd family tradition, which has a place in the search for meaning during the family history journey. 'Alive, alive oh... Alive, alive oh, singing cockels and mussels... ' Bev Lee April 9 2018 |
The Journey ...An 'occasional blog' recording elements of my renewed family history journey. This is the second wave in my 'family history' journey. The first lasted from 2010 to 2014. with intermittent bursts since then. It's time to revisit, to share more stories, to edit, to tackle uncertainties... Categories
All
Archives
April 2024
|