motherstales

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The cock's step on the dunkill

My mother, myself and my youngest son were discussing the very slight change in the length of day today. I was saying I better go home soon to lock the hens in though I noticed it was nearly five before they went in yesterday and my mother said: 

"From the 1st of January you notice a change of a cock's step on the dunkill."

I laughed and said "I don't remember you saying that one before" which surprised her as she says she often. said it and heard it lots. 

She remembers her parents saying it.

"What's a dunkill?" says my lad.

"Well it's dung hill really" says she but we always say the saying as "dunkill". "The cock's step on the dunkill."

It has a nicer ring to it no doubt, more poetic. I thought.

She remembers as a child being told that was how they measured the day getting longer. She asked could they measure it and was told if she wanted to then go out to the dunghill and measure it. I don't think she did. But that's about as much as the day gets longer daily from January 1st, about as much as "the cock's step on the dunkill." 😉🐓💩 🌞

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Here's a lovely tale. Granny (Farrell/Corkery) used to make a cartwheel loaf of bread everyday for one of her neighbours in Derrymore who has "so many children, God bless her". (Granny at that stage had 6 of her own and John and Simon 😂 guess that wasn't many!) Anyway on top of that there was another family she regularly gave food to and one day at 6am Granddad Corkery was looking out the window and he spotted the man of the second family coming up the garden and he proceeded to dig up a bucket of potatoes, took some veg and then went into the cow and milked just enough for his family, leaving enough for ours and off he went. Granddad just watched and said nothing. He told Granny and said "they'll eat well today anyway, " and she was delighted with him.

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The plait

One day, in the convent in Longford, Mammy decided to help her friend out. She wanted short hair like everyone else, all the rage and whatnot, but her father wouldnt let her cut "her beautiful long hair". My mother decided that if she goes home with it cut what can they do about it so the pair of them went into the Home Economics room, Mam put a towel around her friends neck, got a big scissors and cut one of her friend's plaits off. She never got to cut the other one as one of the nuns came in and caught her. She sent Mammy's friend off cycling home with one plait flapping in the wind behind her and the other one in her hand and Mammy had to clean the Home Economics room. The next day her friend came in with her hair beautifully styled the way she wanted it and was delighted with the results.

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Mistaken Identity

This one had me in stitches earlier. It is very short but sweet. Apparently, our Molly was going to the cinema with Noel, either Angie or Céline were babysitting. Anyway Molly jumped up in a hurry and ran out of their house in Teffia and into the car. Without looking up she said to Noel "Have you the money?". As there was no reply she looked up at him to find a man she never saw before or since looking at her in amazement. She made a quick retreat from the car mumbling how she was going to the cinema with her husband and the man drove off. Either he thought all his Christmases has come at once or he was traumatised for life we'll never know. When Molly recovered from her embarrassment she took great delight in telling the story. She said Noel was notorious for forgetting to bring his money and she had wanted to make sure they had it before they got to the cinema. Well, that's her story anyway.

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Not quite a memory except for the bit about the trout. That is a memory my mother had. She remembers Michael and other people from the area going down to the river and catching the fish jumping out of the water and her Gran waiting for the trout to cook. Hard to imagine it as the same river/stream. 😪

Derrymore

Long long ago, when Derrymore was just that, a large oak forest and not a bog, the rivers ran rapidly down the hill of Brí Leith in many directions with crystal clear water full of life. The trout jumped high in the air and into the hands of those waiting because of the abundance of them.

Many came to the area because food was plenty and the soil was rich for planting. The hill itself shone in the moonlight with quartz guiding the journey of the faithful who worshipped their gods on it's top. The top which surveyed the high fields and many prosperous forts on it and around it.

The rivers were used to navigate to the larger Camlin and Inny which too made their way to the Shannon and many boats came up and down while more and more people settled under the watchful eye of their gods.

Soon, some of the invaders who had made their large towns, now cities, along the coast came up the rivers and settled in homesteads along the river Camlin and at the foot of Brí Leith. They brought their new crafts and skills to the area.

A larger settlement was made in the hollow where many of the smaller rivers met the Camlin and it became known as a port for long ships for many a year until it was forgotten.

All the while, the forests were stripped to make more and more homesteads and ships and even roads where none were before and no wise man would put one.

The forests disappeared into memory and the land slid into the rivers and the rivers rose and took more as they struggled to flow. What were once vibrant, lively passageways for man and beast, full of life and food, became smaller and darker with mud.

It was forgotten that they were as such as the people moved to where more forests grew and more rivers ran so the earth changed her shape to the bogland we now know so well and yet still we call that land Derrymore, An Doire Mór, the big oak forest, in memory of what our forefathers saw long long ago.

A story by Ann Gerety Smyth, Monday 4th November 2019.

[motherstales]

The thinness of the veil

Because of the time of year I'm going to share a couple of stories Mammy told me about death in our family. There is some comfort in them whether you believe or not because the familial connection within the brothers and sisters is so strong that it transcends any beliefs. The day before our Molly passed away she told Mammy about a vivid dream she had of Fr. John. She was walking down towards her house from the market square direction after getting her hair done and he was at the gate in the long black cassock he used to wear when he was younger, his cap and his pipe and he said to her "where have you been? I've been waiting so long."

Another one was not long before Veronica left us she dreamt that Kathleen was standing over her bed silently beckoning her with her hand.

The day of their father's funeral both Molly and Mammy had a Robin visit and their father had told them he would come back as a Robin.

The day their mother died her neighbour and good friend, Nurse Gillen, knew before they told her 'because she rapped on the door as she was passing.' Also the day she died I was in bed with Mammy (like I did as often as I could) and when the doorbell rang Mammy knew her mother had gone.

There are many more. There may or may not be a God but it seems to me our souls live on and family stick around. Happy Halloween 🎃

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Putting this here to have for us cousins as grandfather mentioned:

" When a vacancy arose in Ardagh, County Longford, Mrs Cunningham applied and got the teaching post and the family moved to Ardagh where Mrs Cunningham taught school with the late Father John Corker’s father. P.J. has memories of Mr Corkery asking him one day during religion class ‘what was Job famous for’. When P.J. replied that he did not know Mister Corkery thumped him on the chest three times saying ‘PATIENCE PATIENCE PATIENCE’ The family shopped in Frank Gaffneys in Ardagh "

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Had to add this to the blog because it's a wonderful story cousin! ❤

[motherstales]

Why 'Gerety' is!

Long time ago our mother told us this story regarding the spelling of Gerety. Whether it is true or not most of our family know this one. Apparently a painter was employed to paint the name over the door of the shop/pub and try as he might he couldn't fit Geraghty and decided to write Gerety instead, or another version is he couldn't spell and wrote Gerety. Our ancestor at the time decided to leave it that way and from then on all the Geraghtys from around, related or not, spell their name Gerety. Many people couldn't read or write at that time so they presumed it was correct. Now this may well be just a family tale but when researching the family tree, way back when, our Gerety clan did spell it Geraghty and in the middle of one family it changes so half the family are Geraghty and the rest are Gerety and it is around about the time they moved into Kenagh and opened a shop/pub. Also the spread of Gerety is confined to the Kenagh/Ballymahon/Co. Longford area apart from Sligo (our relations) and emigrants, it is quite a tiny population compared to Geraghty and other Irish names. So our ancestor started a trend, new clan! And he wasn't the first! Way back when, in the 12th Century, the O'Ruairc clan of Breffni had a bit of a falling out or split and a person by the name of Oireachtaí O'Ruairc left Co. Roscommon and came to Co. Longford and established the Oireachtaí clan, translated as Geraghty. Funny enough Roscommon pops up in my DNA test for no apparent reason. Well, now this may all be a big fairy tale but that's my story and I'm sticking to it!! 😂😉

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Lanky Liz, Butty Sis, Smirk

Michael was always up to some divilment or scheming but if reminded now Mam says he will say "that never happened, you're making it up." He was always getting Céline and Mam to do things just for the laugh such as standing up looking over the way at Sis Devlin shouting "Lanky Liz, Butty Sis, Smirk" over and over til they fell over laughing. Mam says luckily enough Sis didn't know what they were saying but their mam heard them and said "why would you do that?" The answer was always "Michael told is to". Michael hated Smirk, Sis's husband, hence the nickname. Apparently not too many others liked him either, maybe because he wasn't from there or maybe he was just not nice. The men who laid him out even said "We shaved the hog". When he was laid out Michael was brought to show his respects and the dog bit his feet, they were always without shoes - to spare them, Michael jumped over the corpse and into the corner and Sis came in and gave out stink to him.

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Fr. John on a mission

I wonder how many have heard of the time Fr. John was the librarian in Maynooth and how he travelled incognito to Salamanca to retrieve and save documents and manuscripts by Irish monks during the Franco war. He got them back safely and I believe they are in Maynooth. Could have had a different ending altogether.

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Aunt Molly and the gun

When aunt molly (as in grandaunt as we always called her aunt Molly and Molly was just Molly...!) and granny corkery were in school one day word went out that the black and tans were searching houses for guns. Bear in mind this is national school, they didn't go further unless they were really well off back then, so the girls were young, we even discussed that possibly Granddad was their teacher even at that stage. Molly just ran out of the school and home to Derrymore where she grabbed her father's hunting rifle and hid it in a ditch and then ran back saying nothing to anyone. Mam said Molly was a fast runner even when she was little. When they came searching they found nothing and after they left Aunt Molly produced the gun. She was probably around 10yrs old at best.

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Black and Tans

Every Irish family has a story about the Black and Tans although many have blocked them out because they are so horrific. Ours wasn't horrific but who knows how it could have turned out if one of them got cranky, people never knew. The story goes that Granddad Corkery was on his way, on his bike from Derrymore to Loughall school where he taught when a truck of Black and Tans stopped and the men jumped out, threw his bike in the ditch, asked him where he was from and put him in the truck with other local men. When they found out he was from Cork they kept going on about the rebel county and said they would be keeping an eye on him which they did. They brought him and the others to Moydow where the local IRA had blocked the road and made them clear it. They always used civilians for this. His family knew nothing about it until he came home that evening and then they were just glad he came home because many didn't. Lucky for him they didn't know he knew Michael Collins or that his brother Neilus had joined the civil service with Michael in England. Neilus was later shot at on Patrick's street in Cork where they mistook him for Michael.

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Leprechaun

Mam reminded me of a tale yesterday about my Dad and Betty when they were little. They were in a field behind the house. Mam says the field in question was a lovely field, she remembers Dad pointing it out and it really looked like a magical place where you might find something. They came across a tiny man sitting there. He caught them looking at them and did nothing other than stare at them until they called out in delight that they could see a Leprechaun. One of the workmen jumped the gate and came running. "Where is he? where is he?" he asked. "I've always wanted to see a Leprechaun. There are meant to be Leprechauns around these parts. Where is he?" Unfortunately he didn't get to see him as he was gone but Mam said Dad swore he definitely saw one, up to the day he died and she says Betty does too.

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My mother was nearly a Nun!

And then there was the time Mammy and her friend Fleur went off to Castlecore to visit Kathleen and decide whether they too would join. They were staying over and never slept a wink because they heard this thump thump thump up and down the corridor outside their room all night and it stopped outside for a bit and then started again. When they finally fell asleep Mammy woke with something heavy pressing down on her chest but there wasn't anything there. She was terrified. When she told the nuns in the morning they told her that the Lord that used to own the house had a wooden leg. She decided she wasn't staying another night there and wasn't joining either.

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Ghost story perhaps

This was always one of my favourite stories Mammy told me. It somehow made me feel more connected to a past and a person I couldn't comprehend. It wasn't long after Daddy died, within the year at any rate as we moved from Kenagh on 25th March after, which interestingly is my husband's birthday. A significant date for me from very early on. This story was on a day when Mammy was feeling particularly overwhelmed and lonely while keeping on her public face. She was in the shop with a string of customers and I was meant to be sleeping in my cot but I was crying and not playing the game of good sleeping child like I should have been. She was exhausted and torn between running out of the shop to me, leaving the customers to 'serve themselves' or to stay and serve them and exasperated she spoke to Daddy in an angry whisper. " Go take care of your child, can't you see I'm busy" or words to that effect, (I'll correct them on talking to her). She said I suddenly stopped crying and as soon as she got rid of the customers she came up to check on me and there I was sitting up in the cot staring up into space with my hands stretched out, laughing and giggling at nobody or nothing. She felt Daddy's presence was with me and he had calmed me down and answered her prayers. I like to think so too.