Following the funeral, and very late into the night, over more than a few drinks, it was decided in our wisdom to try and organise some sort of family reunion which was not a wedding or a funeral. Being the oldest (but not necessarily the most sensible) of the thirty five grandchildren it fell upon me to take the lead in the organisation of this event. A number of benefits have already come of this, even before the planned reunion in August. One of my cousins, Mike Jones, a highly accomplished photographer in his own right, together with an uncle of mine in Sydney Australia, have managed to put together a comprehensive family tree. Mike has also spent many hours producing a pictorial history of many of our relatives. This will be shared with as many of the family as want it, and will be something that future generations will surely appreciate.

Inevitably there will be a number of absences due to distance, financial restrictions and family circumstances, however more members of the family than I had anticipated will be meeting in Ballyporeen (said to be the birth-place of President Ronald Reagan’s grandfather – but we don’t boast about that!) on August 22nd. Last minute preparations are underway, together with some last minute invites to relatives who may have been overlooked in error. I trust the Clancy’s bar has been warned to get some extra stock in!

Attached are a couple of photographs of the original plotters. Excuse the quality, we were unable to stand at the time!

…and some of the next generation (we think that there are 76 grand-children of Alice & Cornelius Creagh).

(Forgive my memory loss – I’ve just realised that I’ve posted on this before. More on Creagh Day after the event)

The next generation

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Some of the salvaged shots taken on a compact. Having a drink or two with the first cousins

Putting the world to right over a twiglet

I had to make a sad journey a few weeks ago, back to the village of Ballyporeen, where my Mother’s side of the family hailed from. My aunt “Phillie” (Philomena – I think) died this year after a long and difficult illness at her home in Melbourne. Her son David brought her ashes home to be placed in the family grave, alongside her parents Alice & Cornelius Creagh, my mother Nellie (Ellen) and her brother Michael. As many of the family as could make the journey gathered together in the lovely village of Ballyporeen, which nestles between the Galtee and Knockmeldown Mountains.

It was a journey of mixed feelings. I still find it very difficult to revisit my mother’s grave, and recognise that much of my life is about denial of painful episodes. However, Ballyporeen also holds idyllic memories of childhood, the freedom to roam the fields and hinterland freely, without fear and with a sense of sunny exploration. The village still retains – in a most peculiar way – a sense of unspoilt innocence, reminicent of Laury Lee’s “Cider with Rosie”. It has an air of being a relative backwater, reluctantly dipping its toes into the 21st century. The main industry appears to still be based on farming, with the consequence that the skilled workforce has to some degree or another commute to areas which are more industrialised. The houses, with the exception of some of the palacial newer buildings, are not as bright and pristine as in my childhood memories, and there is a vibrancy missing which the busy market village once held. The Catholic Church stills wields a powerful influence in the community, not surprising I suppose. Still, I find the presence of such unquestioning faith disturbing. Put it down to my cynicism.

One thing that still exists in copious doses is a sense of humour. Our lives are immensely complicated today. As a child I recall Ballyporeen in glowing terms, a real sense of community in the face of hardship, always accompanied with a laugh or a joke. Ireland’s cities and towns may have become more homogenous and bland. Many of the small communities show a reluctance to chance, which I find healthy and disarming at the same time.

I have grave suspicions that the good people of Ballyporeen did a great con job on the President of the United States, Ronnie Reagan. I’m sure someone may put me right on this, but there seem to be some wry smiles when the subject of Ronnie’s Irish heritage is mentioned. The claim is that his grandfather came from this unassuming village. I’m not sure that the evidence stands up to scrutiny though. I may well rattle someones cage in writing this, but it was very convenient for the late Ronnie anyway at a time when he needed the Irish vote back home. Whatever, the locals used the occasion for an almighty “piss-up”, which is OK by me.

I was surprised by the number of newcomers into the area from England and Germany. Although, moving into this beautiful area is wisdom on their part if one is looking to escape the vagaries of modern existence, or at least hold it at arms length. They seem to have seamlessly blended into the landscape. I don’t know why I should be surprised at that – perhaps because this does not happen so readily in Wales.

Over one or two beers, the first cousins who had gathered stared a headcount. Several recounts were necessary, but it was finally agreed that there are 35 first cousins on the Creagh side of this family, all of whom (with one sad exception) are still around to tell the tale. There have been a number of attempts to write a family tree, though because we have tended to work in isolation this has not yet materialised. Perhaps with the advantage of the internet we might finally get our act together. I am not the most organised of people to do this, but maybe I should make more effort to organise this with others. (Will put on my “must do” list)

As a postscript;- I took over two hundred photographs of Ballyporeen while I was there, which involved driving my Land Rover well off-road in order to get the right angle. However, I lost the bloody lot on my computer when I returned home. OK, this gives me a good reason to return, hopefully in the Spring, and spend a couple of days soaking in the atmosphere, the Guinness and the warmth of a truly beautiful part of the world.

(See also the August 09 blog for Creagh Day Ballyporeen)