I can’t yet remember all their
names. Give me some more time and I will. But my, I am glad I met them.
During our Spring Break this past
week, my parents brought my daughters, my wife and me to Ireland for a week.
Most of the trip consisted of sightseeing, from Dublin, Galway and Belfast to
the Giant’s Causeway, Cliffs of Moher and Dingle Peninsula. But toward the end
of our trip, we gathered in a pub in Castlewellan, just outside Newcastle in
Northern Ireland’s County Down. Greeting us were some 30 members of our family –
people my dad had connected with in researching his family tree.
He’d been at this for a while, and
my parents had met several of these relatives before. My dad’s cousin Arthur,
who lives in the U.S., has been his partner in research. They’ve shared family
information, photos and discoveries. Several years ago, my parents had visited the
Hynes homestead, grave site and stained-glass window, as well as the quarry
where my dad’s grandfather, John Hynes, worked before emigrating from Ireland and becoming a
well-respected granite worker in Brooklyn. But now, my dad was introducing
these relatives to his own son and granddaughters.
And they taught me so much in one
night. From Thomas, I learned that it now costs more to sheer a sheep than it
pays to sell the wool, so the family’s farming business now focuses on raising
lambs to sell for meat. From Martin, I learned that the farm is a side job for
most in Ireland, as it typically doesn’t pay enough on its own. From Peadar,
who teaches Irish language classes and coaches Gaelic football, I learned that
his secondary school doesn’t allow any smartphones or tablets in class.
From Kathleen and Malachy, I learned
how much life has improved in Belfast over the past two decades, as years of sectarian
violence have given way to a booming tourism scene. From Mary, I learned that
anniversary masses play a major role in many Irish families, as a means of
honoring those who have died. And from young Odhrán, I learned a new nickname
for our family, as seen on the back of his Gaelic football jersey: “Hynesey.”
My dad was two generations removed
from his ancestor who left Ireland. Now, the two generations following my dad
have connected with those roots, just as he has. I’m a mutt whose ancestors emigrated
from various European countries. I had met a couple of relatives from Iceland
40 years ago, and that’s been it. But now my older daughter is following her
Irish cousin on Instagram, and I’m in a Hynes family Facebook message group.
There are, of course, plenty of
family members here in the U.S. whom I know and love, yet have not seen nearly
enough of lately. In our ever-hectic lives, extended family members often find ourselves
promising to get together more often than actually doing it. Then, someone
passes and we see one another, wishing it were under better circumstances. The
Hynes family members in Ireland expressed similar sentiments.
But be that as it may, it was truly
a special night. They walked into the pub, shook our hands, and introduced
themselves. Family. Now I’ve met them. Not a bad education for one Spring
Break. Thanks, Dad.