In 1928, Ireland, perhaps like most of the world, was a country dealing with many political conflicts and unrest, so one can only imagine how difficult it was to make ends meet and raise a family. This was a time just after the Easter Rising of 1916 and the Civil War of 1921, momentous occasions in Irish history and well documented in history books around the world.

dad’s arrival

Well, during all this struggle, like today and everyday life goes on, and on January 29, 1928, my father was born to proud parents Martin and Margaret. And as was the tradition in Ireland, a son would be named after the father, and lo and behold, dad was christened Martin.

Martin and Margaret were ordinary people of average good descent, who owned a small estate of about thirty acres, nestled below the foothills of the Slieve Bloom Mountains in County Laois (once called the County of Queens during an occupation by our older neighbors). nearby, England). During the winter months conditions were harsh in this part of the world, with the wind blowing off the mountain, and especially if it was sleeting or snowing and you were stuck in it, I still get a tingling feeling when I think about the way those hailstones would fall off my face and hands, it sure was hard.

Summer now that is a different story. The beautiful mountain took on a different meaning for me, it was the most wonderful place to be, the scent of heather wafted through the air and I felt sad for those people who lived in cities who would never experience the joy of this freedom and life. with nature in this way.

mischief

By all accounts, Dad was a well-liked young man in the town, not a saint either, he got into all the pranks and pranks that boys get up to, simple things like stealing apples from orchards or playing pranks on the neighbors. One of the stories that I still find quite funny was when he and his older brother John, during the evening, tied a burning fir tree behind a bicycle and sped past a neighbor on our very dark driveway. The neighbor ran as fast as he could, entered another neighbor’s house and recanted that he had just met Satan on the road and asked that the priest be called and the area blessed immediately. Good old man honest to god funny.

Dad’s first years

Dad worked hard from a young age, this meant getting up at six in the morning before going to school to help with the milking of the cows and other farm chores, a three mile walk to school after that where he got a basic education and then a three-mile walk back, farm chores again, a little study and bed. No TV, no electricity, no running water, just some good storytelling that would scare the hell out of you sometimes. So you went to sleep with one eye half open.

He intended to emigrate as did almost all of his eight brothers and four sisters, but he loved Ireland and the Irish way very much. Then, in 1954, she met my dear mother, Catherine Grehan. After a few years of dating, they were married on February 14, 1955, and over the years I was blessed with four brothers and ten sisters. My brothers are Martin, Aidan, John, Francis (RIP) and my sisters are Margaret, Ann, Claire, Gabrielle and Joan (RIP). Majella, Angela, Carmelo, Frances, Maria. Many of us wear family crest rings that show family pride.

We have a sport in Ireland that is known as GAA Hurling, it is considered to be one of the fastest games in the world. The game is played with a Hurley stick, and the ball, when hit with full force, travels at a speed of one hundred miles per hour. Playing this game or watching other teams play was our pastime on Sundays and I cherish every moment I spent with my dad on these occasions. When I was very young, I actually thought that he invented the game because he knew a lot about it and knew a lot of people involved. The culmination of the sporting year was when the final was played at Croke Park, when family members from all over the world returned and attended. For almost forty years I attended those games with my dad and I’m so glad I did, because now that he’s passed away, I sometimes think of those precious memories to lift my spirits when things get a little rough.

A little advice about dads

You don’t always have to agree with what they say, but it doesn’t hurt to listen because remember that if you’re lucky enough to have a dad around for the amount of time that I did, they’re bound to experience a lot, and a lot that certainly can be. useful when analyzed and used correctly. Tolerance is a great attribute.

My dad went on to the next part of his journey on July 3, 2010, I miss him so much and hope we meet again. He loved him very much.

Today I am a dad with three sons, two daughters, three granddaughters and two grandsons and I hope that one day, you too will be a dad and have a passion for life and great memories. Never be afraid to apologize for mistakes that have been made and always have a sense of forgiveness, it is healthy and rewarding.

My dad was a classy, ​​proud, considerate and humble man who would help anyone at any time. May he rest in peace.