“There’s no sense of entitlement, no sense of placement, it’s all a sense of you’ve got to go out and work hard to get there. It doesn’t all break your way all the time, so you’ve got to just power through it. I think that’s deeply imbedded in the culture of the Irish.” – Brian Moynihan, whose ancestors left Ireland in 1850. I am remembering a day around this time of year in … [Read more...] about The First Word: Finding Strength in Our Ancestors
Patricia Harty
The First Word: Celebrating Irish Heritage in Holyoke
If there’s a connecting theme in this issue it’s the Famine: Brian Moynihan’s ancestors came over at the end of the famine, Christine Kinealy writes about the international response to the famine, while David Fleitz brings us a story on the early days of American baseball that was populated with the first generation – the sons of famine immigrants. Looking back over the years, … [Read more...] about The First Word: Celebrating Irish Heritage in Holyoke
Holyoke’s Irish Heart
By Patricia Harty, Editor-in-Chief
Patricia Harty was honored at the St. Patrick’s Day festivities in Holyoke, Massachusetts, and decided that if there is a place called Irish America, this could be it. Its heart, Holyoke, Massachusetts, is still Ireland Parish, which is what it was known as back in the 1800s when immigrants, mainly from the Irish-speaking area of Dingle, Co. Kerry, settled there and found … [Read more...] about Holyoke’s Irish Heart
The First Word: Celebrating the Far-Flung Irish
When I was young, a visit by two Frenchmen caused great excitement in our house. They were distant cousins – descendants of Oliver Harty who was born in Knockainey, Knocklong, County Limerick in 1746 and left for France as a lad of sixteen. Like many young Irishmen who had lucrative careers in continental armies since the 16th century, Oliver left for France in 1762 to serve … [Read more...] about The First Word: Celebrating the Far-Flung Irish
The First Word: The Comfort of Tradition & Ritual
“The robins came – that’s a sign of luck,” my cousin whispers in my ear as the men start to shovel the clay. Sure enough, I look up and see a pair of robins swoop down over the heads of those gathered and then fly off together. It’s a bright sunny day, but the temperature is below freezing and I worry that the clay will be frozen solid. Perhaps it is. But the men – whom I … [Read more...] about The First Word: The Comfort of Tradition & Ritual