Day 11 Tipperary

Actually, it isn't a long way to Tipperary at all! It's really just down the road a ways. We have learned that everything here in Ireland "is just a short ways - maybe 5 minutes". In fact we have dicovered that has very little to do with distance, nor the time it takes to get there! We suspect these helpful guidelines that are offered by many people, many times refers to "as the crow flies". Not very helpful for us though! However today the "just a short ways" held true.

My family comes from Tipperary and although I was armed with little more than "a farm in Donohill" we set out this morning to see what we could find. Finding Donohill was pretty easy if you don't count the narrow, hedge-lined road to get there. When we arrived we started at the cemetry and quickly found a family plot with HORAN written at the top and a list of first names that left little doubt that we were likely in the right place. The grounds keeper confirmed that the farm we could see from the graveyard at the top of the hill did indeed belong to the Horans. It looked out onto the Tipperary Moate, so once again with some assurance we set out for the farm.

Greeted by three very friendly farm dogs our arrival was announced. Before I made it to the door a woman called out and as soon as I confirmed it was indeed the Horan farm, she announced they all had COVID! I explained who I was and immediately set off a flurry of activity as Lars was called in from the tractor in the field and there was much lamenting about how sorry they were not to welcome us properly but they were not coming anywhere near out of fear of speading it. Not being any keener to contract it than they were of spreading it, but not wanting to let an opportunity like this pass, we sat on opposite sides of the front garden. We began to piece together the bits of family history that we both knew and spent the next FOUR HOURS getting to know one another.

My great-grandfather, Patrick Horan, left that very farm at the age of 14 years (!!) to serve as a draper in Liverpool. Lars was able to trace for me the field he would have crossed and showed me where he would have caught the train to Dublin for the short ferry ride to Wales before heading to Liverpool. We both knew he had stayed there only three years before leaving for America. What Lars didn't know was why some of the family had ended up in Newfoundland and some continued on as planned to New York. I was able to share that the story I had been told was that some, including my great-grandfather, had been so horribly seasick crossing the North Atlantic that they vowed to get off on the first piece of dry land they saw - and they stayed!

His grandfather, Patrick's brother, was the only one of eight siblings to remain in Ireland, which is why the family farm that has been in my family since the beginning of the 1800s is now his farm. Since he lives on the farm he has had some visitors over the years but was actually surprised that so many of his grandfather's brothers and sisters were never heard from again. He has bits and pieces of the stories, but we have agreed to stay in touch so we can complete the stories. He offered contact information of the other random relatives who have arrived at his door! This is going to be a great resource!

Now I know what everybody is thinking, "of course Maggie talked to him for four hours" but honestly, and David will support, I made numerous attempts to leave - all to no avail! I think Lars enjoyed the day as much as I did!

The Donohill Moate in the background
Even through COVID, although they stayed away, a cuppa was offered! Served on the hood of the car and they stepped away so we could serve ourselves.
The family plot
Across the farms that the graveyard overlooks, complete with ancient ruins that date back to the Normans.

The Horan family farm where my great-grandfather was born
The hill to the graveyard was quite the climb!


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