Where do you come from?’ was a common question asked to me
as a small child by strangers, teachers and other children as soon as I would
venture outside of my hometown. ‘Sixmilebridge’ would be my uncomplicated
answer. I never considered there might be more to where I came from than
Sixmilebridge. It was where I was brought home from the hospital, went to
school, mass and learned to ride a bike. It was where Santa delivered my
presents each Christmas Eve and where I lived my whole life. How would I be from
anywhere but the village in the east of county Clare where I had experienced my
entire childhood? It wasn’t until I was in my teens that I began to look at the
question differently. My mother was born in England and lived there for the
first three or four years of her life, yet she has always considered herself
Irish. My father was born and reared in a little housing estate called Church
View, in what locals call ‘The Bridge’. If my mother was born in England, was I
half English? Where did my grandparents come from? What about their parents
before them?
I was intrigued then to learn more about my family’s past,
where did I come from? Other than amusing stories and tales of my parents’
childhoods, they never spoke much about the past, my grandparents even less so.
I suppose the element of the unknown enticed me further.
Then of course there was the series ‘Who Do You Think You
Are?’ which was a popular series in my new household with my partner and his
father. It certainly makes the whole process look incredibly easy. I have
always had a keen interest in history, on a national and international level.
Still the stories I enjoyed the most were those of my family history, my dad’s
antics as a child and my mother’s squabbles with her sisters.
So, why not start documenting my family history? Find out
where I really came from? Where do I begin? That, I really don’t know. As of
last year all my grandparents have passed away, so unfortunately some of their
stories may be gone to the grave. I have hoped though that they left pieces of
the puzzle with my parents, their siblings and maybe even a paper trail of life
events.
Who knows what I shall find? Maybe I’ll find some links to
royalty! As unlikely as that seems, I have no clue as to what I will awaits me.
Maybe I will find someone mischievous or adventurous. Then again I may just
find a long line of ordinary people who lived out ordinary lives. To be
perfectly honest I would be entirely alright with ordinary. I am not filled
with any ideas of grandeur. Many people
live ‘ordinary’ lives, but everyone has a story. Whether it is a story of love
or loss, a story filled with laughs or tears, a tale filled with music and
dancing or one of work and hardship, it is a story I want to find. Perhaps
there will be an account filled with all the above elements. At this moment in
time I really do not know, I presume the mystery of it all has sucked me into
the world of genealogy.
What do I hope to find? Oh I hope I am Irish. Being Irish is
one of the things I am most proud of. Most of us being blessed with the gift of
the gab we are great storytellers and Ireland is steeped in history, a
wonderful, colourful history which is still fresh in people’s memory today.
So the question remains, where so I start? Well I guess this
journey begins with a trip home, a nice cup of tea with my Mam and Dad and a
chat about where they came from.
