The Rites of Fall in the Acre

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People have asked me if what I shared last week was all true.  Certainly!  And it becomes truer each time I recall it.  I also want to share that I am totally inept with technology.  To all of you who have shared comments or asked questions, I would like to respond, but I keep getting messages that since I don't operate this blog, I cannot post comments or responses.  (Needless to say I'm confused.)  If you wish to contact me directly, email me at dadumc@comcast.net.

Let me continue with my reminiscences of growing up on the corner of Broadway and Walker.  I truly believe I was given a gift of being brought up in the right place at the right time the Acre of the late 1950s  One of the first rites of Fall was the hanging of the storm windows.  Now anyone under the age of 55 will have no idea of what I speak.  In the cellar of the tenement I was brought up in were stored the 14 storm windows that had to be put up when the leaves changed, and taken down when the lilac buds showed.  These windows weighed as much as a full grown adult and had to be lugged up the stairs and brought outside for cleaning.  Our apartment, like most of the time, had no central heat- just a space heater and the kitchen stove.  Having ice form on the inside of the windows was no foreign occurrence.  Back to the storm windows.

My father would take out his wooden, 6 ft step ladder.  The one that listed at a 45 degree angle.  As he said, it was in perfect condition, why get a new one.  With a mouthful of 8 wood screws per window, he'd climb the ladder.  I would also climb the ladder doing a flying Wallendas routine of holding the window against the house and standing on the opposite side of the ladder from my Dad.  Misters Black and Decker had not invented the portable screwdriver yet, so good old Dad, with lightning speed would attach the windows.  This was also the time that I learned how religious my father was as he called out to "Jesus Christ Almighty" so many times. 

You knew it was really Fall when my mother would hang up the Indian corn.  You don't see a lot of that now.  Many houses today have blow up figures, strings of orange lights, and plastic pumpkins on the doorsteps.  My folks would never waste money by putting a pumpkin on the step.  We'd open it up and roast the seeds in the oven.  My aunt would make pumpkin pies.  But my mother used the same Indian corn for years.  the sad part was that birds, rain, and the years got to the corn, and each year she hung it up it looked more like she was hanging up just the cob minus the kernels.  She often bragged how many years she kept the same corn with the faded bow.

Another rite of Fall was walking by Waugh Street and waiting for the horse chestnuts to fall.  Before the blight which wiped out many of these beauties, Waugh Street was chestnut tree lined and became our own little "run the gauntlet."  A horse chestnut is covered with hard spikes.  When it falls from the tree it resembles a medieval torture instrument.  The trick was to run under the trees before being brained by the spiked bowling balls.  It was most fun on a windy day to see who could collect the most chestnuts without suffering a concussion.

But the best rite of Fall was Halloween itself.  I don't remember buying a costume.  I think I was a hobo from ages 5 to 11.  When I turned 12, I revolted and was a vampire.  I thought I was cool with a cape and blood dripping from my mouth.  That's when I learned not to use red Magic Marker as fake blood.  It was also a let down when a friend pointed at me and said vampires never wore glasses.  So I took them off , and then looked like a blind vampire tripping on stairs and walking into doors.  That was my last year of trick or treating.

What I remember most is getting my paper, orange, trick or treat bag from Greens in downtown Lowell.  I think it cost a nickel.  It was nothing more than an orange paper shopping bag, but by night's end it would hold a bounty of cavity producing treats.  My Dad was often given the chore of walking with us.  It often became a history of the Acre lesson.  Being an Acre Boy himself he'd tell me this is where he helped light the gas lanterns when he was a kid.  Or this is where the Keyes sisters lived and he'd run errands for them.  We'd walk by Lovejoy's mansion where UMass is now.  Everyone knew it was haunted, and I'd walk a little closer to him.  He's pretend to see ghosts in the broken windows.  One year right in front of Lovejoys it started raining, hard, and my little trick or treat bag got soaking wet and broke.  I was in a panic.  Do I stop and pick up my candy, or do I let the ghosts drag us in to Lovejoys basement and my mother would never see us again?  I did what any 6 year old would do.  I cried.  My father said another prayer to Jesus Christ Almighty, put as much candy into my little hobo hands as could fit, picked me up, and walked me home.

Samhain, Halloween, and other things

Thanks to Thomas Cahill's book, How the Irish Saved Civilization, we're all aware how our ancestors were personally responsible from keeping the Western Hemisphere from spinning back into the primordial abyss.  Well that isn't exactly what he says, but that's my take on it.  I am always aghast when those who share our Celtic heritage are unaware of the Irish roots of Halloween.  The Irish brought Halloween to the Americas.  The Celtic calendar ends at this time of year.  The season was a celebration of harvest and a time to prepare for bringing things in- closure.  And so it also became a time for the dead.  Large bonfires would be lit and animals and humans alike would walk by them as a type of cleansing.  The spirits of ancestors would be recalled with food being placed out for them.  Of course when the Church stepped in, the old went out.  Sort of.  All Saints Day and All Souls Day were to replace the old ways, even though they never completely disappeared.

Image from Google

I attended Saint Patrick School under the instruction of the good Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur.  Now it's become the fad for former Catholic school students to gather and tell horror stories of the torture chambers that the schools kept in their basements.  One friend claims his nuns performed lobotomies on students who refused to wear their uniforms to school.  Another claims one of his nuns packed heat.  They are apocryphal stories at best.  You will never hear such stories from me since I hold those women in the highest regards.

When I was in first grade my nun was Sister Julie Barbarian (a false name was used to protect the guilty).  Our classroom was in the school basement since Sister had 52 students, no exaggeration.  There was no aid in the class or break for an art or music teacher to come in.  She was stuck with us, which may have lead to the encounter I tell.  It was Halloween.  Being good Catholic boys and girls we were told to dress as our patron saint and be ready to parade around the school.  As I was ready with my sister to walk the 1.5 miles to school (today that would be child abuse).  I informed my mother I needed to dress as Saint David.  "When?" she asked.  "Now!" I replied, "Today is Halloween."  My mother took a copy of the Lowell Sun and folded it into a bizarre lump and informed me it was a crown.  I was going as King David.  I'm grateful she did not give me a loincloth and sling shot and go as young David fighting Goliath.

When I got to school there was St Francis, Saint Anthony, Saint Ann....  It looked like the hosts of heaven descended on Adams Street wearing their fathers' robes and mothers' bedsheets.  Sister looked ecstatic as we walked in.  She pointed at the folded Lowell Sun sitting on my head.  "What's that?"  she asked with her black habit looking much like a witch's outfit.  "It's a crown.  I'm King David."  I thought she would comment on how creative my crown was.  Instead she gave some sort of theology lesson that David was not a saint since the Messiah had not yet arrived and how could I be a saint if the gates of heaven had not been opened yet..............  My eyes glazed over as she went on quoting scripture, I think.  Her last words were, "Take it off."  I was crushed, until the kid after me walked by, we'll call him the sacrificial lamb.  He had on a Woolworth's skeleton costume compete with plastic mask.  You could see her take a deep breath.  "I'm a skeleton," came the muffled voice from behind the mask.  I've heard that certain sounds can break glass, and that the blasts of trumpets felled Jericho's walls.  The sound that came out of Sister's mouth was akin to that.  Her final words were, "Take it off."  "I can't," said the skeleton mask.  "You can't or you won't?" asked the good Sister, now looking more like a witch.  "I don't have anything underneath here," retorted the skeleton.  While the rest of the class paraded around the school ,Skeleton Boy and King David stayed in the classroom eating candy corn. 

Sister Julie is now counted among the saints.  The whereabouts of Skeleton Boy remains unknown.

THE CROSS AND THE SHAMROCK and FROM ERIN TO THE ACRE

BACK IN PRINT!

Are you thinking of a unique gift for someone who may be interested in Lowell's Irish past? 

The Cross and the Shamrock: the art and history of Saint Patrick Cemetery

and From Erin to the Acre: a photo history of Lowell's early Irish

have been reissued and are available for a limited time.  All proceeds from the books will go directly to the restoration fund of St. Patrick Cemetery.  Those who have visited the cemetery know the beauty of the shamrock slate stones that make St. Pat's truly unique.  Profits from the books will go to help restore the stones which are in need of restoration.  The gift is twofold.  Not only will you learn of Lowell's pioneer Irish past, but also know that you have helped preserve our common heritage. 

The Ladies Ancient Order of Hibernians is managing the sales. 

The books are $10.00 each and your check should be made out to 

LAOH Cemetery Restorations and mailed to:

LAOH Div 1 Lowell

c/o Donna Reidy

PO Box 266

Pelham, NH 03076

EXTRA! EXTRA!- Those who purchase the book and add a small donation of their choosing will also receive a 5 x 7 parchment certificate acknowledging the contribution for help in preserving our heritage for future generations.  (Please state the name to be inscribed on the certificate.)

Costello Monument, St. Patrick Cemetery

I met Kim a few months ago at an Open Doors event.  She came bouncing into St. Pat's Church with more energy than anyone should have at that time of the morning.  That's also when I realized what a unique individual she really is.  Kim is the assistant administartor at the Lowell Historic Board and works with Steve Stowell.  We've crossed paths a few times since then, and each time she amazes me with her talents.  Which brings me to this week's topic, the Costello Monument.  Most folks who drive by assume it is a mausoleum, not so.  Saint Patrick's has no mausoleum.  As the predominant landmark of the cemetery you might be interested in more of its background and architecture (Kim's forte).  So I invited Kim to be a guest blogger.  (Any other "volunteers"?)

Along with that, Kim will be conducting a tour of Old English on November 20th at noon.  Our neighbors share a number of great slate stones that are masterpieces of art and date to Lowell's earliest days.

Costello Chapel
St. Patrick’s Cemetery

                                                By: Kim Zunino

One of the most fascinating structures in the St. Patrick’s Cemetery is the Costello Chapel. This chapel was commissioned by prominent businessman Thomas F. Costello around 1905. With a very successful plumbing fixture business in Lowell, he had the chapel built for his son, Rev. Fr. George A. Costello, who served as the pastor of St. Bridget’s Roman Catholic Church in Lexington until his death in 1915. Thomas Costello passed away in early 1906.

Often mistaken for a mausoleum, the chapel was designed for performing Mass and the only burials are in the Costello family plot in front of the structure.  Designed by the prominent Swiss-American ecclesiastical architect Franz Joseph Untersee, the classically designed chapel was built of stone from the Vermont Marble Company of Proctor, Vermont. The structure has bronze entry gates and a painted copper roof. The interior of the chapel has had some conservation issues, as the marble-covered walls have been failing and pieces have been falling onto the altar and floor of the chapel.

            What makes this chapel so amazing is that it one of only a handful of Guastavino domes left in Massachusetts. Rafael Guastavino was a successful architect and builder in Spain when he immigrated to America in 1881 with his young son, Rafael Jr.  In 1885 Guastavino Sr. patented a type of structural tiling in the U.S. called the “Tile Arch System”, in which interlocking terra cotta tiles and layers of Portland cement combined to create self-supporting arches and domes. The Guastavino Fireproof Company was founded in 1889 and was responsible for designing the tile ceilings of many historic landmarks, including the Boston Public Library, two Vanderbilt family estates, and the ceiling of the Registry Hall on Ellis Island. They are also responsible for designing dome at the Grace Universalist Church (1896) in Lowell, which was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2010.

Another side of Hugh

We know of Hugh the labor leader; Hugh the peace keeper; Hugh as church founder, etc..  You have heard of Hugh the beer brewer (and the subsequent lawsuit against him), but do you know of Hugh the temperance man?  In my never ending quest to know all I can about him, I recently came across an interesting account.  Hugh wore many hats.  One was merchant.  He kept a West Indies Dry Goods store on Merrimack Street.  (A few years ago we had the Cummiskey Alley sign installed to remember Hugh, and since it is an actual street on city maps.)  Like most stores of the period, one of Hugh's best selling items was whiskey.  Each of the stores had their own jugs with the store name labeled on it.  (We have one with "Cummiskey's" on it in our parish archives.)  When the contents were emptied you simply brought it back to the store for a refill.  In the 1840s an anti-liquor movement swept the nation.  It made a big impact in Lowell among Yankees and Irish alike.  An Irish priest named, Fr. Theobald Mathew, was a well known speaker and visited Lowell to give "the pledge" where men and women alike swore they would never touch another drop again.  (Our parish archives has a medallion from one of his visits.)

In the Journal of the American Temperance Union is a brief account of a visitor seeing a gang of men and some type of disturbance outside Hugh's store.  Closer inspection showed it was the store owner, Hugh Cummiskey, having casks of liquor removed from his establishment and "abandoning entirely a traffic which is heretofore given him part of his livelihood."  (I wonder where they brought the evil deamon rum.)  The writer further says Cummiskey is a model to his fellow Catholics and hopes other "will join hands with him in this cause."

Now I feel a little guilty on Saint Patrick's Day when I raise a glass to the man who brought the Irish community to Lowell.

I made note of our parish archives.  We've got a nice collection of items from the parish, schools, and the Acre neighborhood.  It consists of several hundred artifacts, printed materials, prints, and photos.  Every now and then folks drop off items that they think deserve a good home and relate to the story we try to tell.  I remember getting a call from a wonderful woman asking me to look at some items she was going to throw away.  There were great neighborhood photos and the bell that called the kids to school at the turn of the century.  Little finds like this make up our history and need to be preserved.  Do you have anything to share?

We've reached over 3000 hits!  Those interested in preserving Lowell's Irish past are out there.  You hear from me each week.  I'd like to hear from you.  Drop a line.  Tell me a story.  I'm looking for guest bloggers.  Share your family's role in Lowell's Irish past.  dadumc@comcast.net

On another note the Lowell Historic Board is doing a tour of Old English, Saint Pat's neighboring cemetery on Nov. 20th.  Might be interesting to see who the neighbors are.  I was also thinking of doing a preliminary census before mapping out the slates in Yard 1 on Saturday, October 22.  If you might be interested drop me an email.

Will the real Hugh Cummiskey please stand up?

Hugh's signature as it appears on his naturalization record.

Sometimes I think I have a touch of OCD.  I remember once I read a Tony Hillerman mystery novel.  I was hooked.  Within a couple of months I had read every single piece the man ever wrote.  Did I stop there?  No.  I made a number of visits to Arizona and followed the route the main character, Jim Chee, followed.  My wife would wonder why I was driving out of our way to get somewhere, but I knew what I was doing.  Jim Chee rode this highway and stopped at this rest stop.

Just as I thought I've recovered from my addiction, Hugh Cummiskey pops up, or I should say Hugh CummiskeyS pop up.  Yes, you read it correctly.  I was sitting in Mahon's Hotel in Irvinestown.  The team was out at a local pub.  By this day every muscle in my body was crying out in agony so I snuck away to my room.  I came across a note we had made weeks earlier of a second Hugh Cummiskey, this one in Boston, but at about the same period.  Were they related?  One was a labor leader, the other a ship's pilot.  Ever since we came back, we've made little inroads as to who Hugh2 was.  That's when the little voice in the back of my head started speaking to me.  It said one word, "Google."  And that's what I've been doing every night since then.  The last name of Cummiskey is not that common.  The first name Hugh is not uncommon, but it's not Patrick or Mike either.  So you figure the name Hugh Cummiskey must be unique.  Nah!  There are more Hugh Cummiskeys than you can shake a stick at, and they're all over the place. 

Right now I'm following one line on Prince Edward Island about the same time period as Hugh1.  I'll call him Hugh3 (though there are more Hughs in this family).  One of the streets where Hugh3 lives is Dromore (the area in Ireland where Hugh1 is from).  One of Hugh3's family has the last name of Sherry (Hugh1's wife's last name was Sherry).  Hugh3's family moves to Lowell for a short period.  So obviously they're the same family!!!  Nah!  At least no proof yet. 

On another note, just got an email from Colm.  Irish America magazine just published a nice piece in their magazine.  Some of you may know IA magazine as one of the leading journals of Irish culture on both sides of the Atlantic.  Take a look: http://www.irishcentral.com/IrishAmerica/  We made the big time!

Cemetery Walk

Neither rain, nor sleet, nor..... wait.  That's for mailmen.  But it's similar for those who give tours where the advert says rain or shine.  Actually, the sun was out, and it was a little tepid by the time we finished up.  The LAOH began with their Mercy Drive dedication.  Led by Donna Reidy, 3 stones of Irish immigrants who have been laid to rest without benefit of a marker to remember them, were dedicated.  Seeing the field of tri-colors of previous dedications, gives you a great visual of all the work Donna has done over the years.

The year 2011 marks the beginning of the sesquicentennial anniversary of the Civil War.  Those who are regular readers know the extensive work that has been done for the past few months gathering the names of Irish Civil War vets interred in St. Pat's.  Eileen, Walter, and myself have been gathering not only burial info, but regimental and family info where applicable.  These were real people with hopes and dreams who experienced the battlefield.  Many of them took America as their new home and picked up arms to show their commitment.  It is only right and just this be done in their name.  The cemetery office was given a copy of the spreadsheet which is 90% complete.  (Hey, it was a bigger job than we could imagine, but we couldn't let it go.)  We hope those who are searching for ancestors will find some benefit from our labors.  Eileen and Walter spoke at several of the CW vets graves.  Next year we will begin dedicating CW stones for those who are missing markers. 



9th Reg Recruitment Poster

Hugh Cummiskey was 82 years old when he passed away from this his home on Adams Street.  He referred to himself as a "gentleman" in his later years.  Lowell had changed greatly from his arrival in 1822.  By the time many of the Irish had moved out of the Acre for the new neighborhoods of Pawtucketville and the Highlands.  Three daughters had become nuns.  One remained unmarried, and the last had her family.  He lived with his wife Rose.  As old age approached I imagine he would sit in his home staring out the window at the tower of Saint Pat's, his memory drifting back to his home in Crossan.  Walking the tree lined lane to his homestead.  Weeding the garden behind the house.  Looking over the rolling hills and mountains as he brought the cows to the next pasture for feeding.  Colm and I shared this image and thought it appropriate to take a stone from the Cummiskey homestead and place it in Hugh's final resting place.  Walter and I shared the honors of doing so. So Hugh now rests with a little piece of his home.  The circle closes.

The Cross and the Shamrock - Back in print!!!!!

There are a lot of unsung heroes when it comes to honoring our forebears.  I thought I'd make a list, but if I did that you know what would happen.  Each year as the tour finishes all those great folks who turn out, some year after year, say thanks and how much they enjoyed the walk.  While I nod my head in appreciation, I'm thinking Domine non sum dignus.  (Parochial school Latin sticks with you.)  All I do is collect stories others have shared.  I recall walking the cemetery about 20 years ago and seeing glimpses of slate stones under the sod.  Volunteers joined me in the cemetery uncovering the stones one by one.  Soon we had 1500 names from the very earliest pioneers collected with all the inscriptions left by them.  There were poems, prayers, and petitions to the saints.  It was like looking through a window into their lives. 

Now I was hooked.  I kept asking George Merritt for more info, but he said there was nothing else, unless I wanted to look at 2 old books he had.  What???  Breaking every oath an archivist takes, I kept those books at my house for over a year (Confession is good for the soul right?  And besides I was young and naive.)  But those books, which were quickly deteriorating with age and mold, contained 8000 names of burials before records were kept.  Again, another window was opened.  Now we know more of what occupations they had, what were the causes of deaths, and the numbers being interred. 

Folks started asking for tours and that's when Catherine and John Goodwin forced me to start.  That was over 15 years ago, and folks still come for our walk through time.  It was also Catherine's idea to do a book, and thus came The Cross and the Shamrock.  About 1500 copies of that book were sold or given to libraries etc.  It went out of print- until now.  Donna Reidy is one of those unsung heroes.  Donna's dream is to help restore the oldest stones that are in need of repair.  It costs money.  So I have donated the rights to the 2 books we have on Irish history in Lowell to the AOH for the express purpose of restoration of the stones in Saint Patrick Cemetery.  It will be on sale at next week's tour.  It's a nice little piece with some interesting stories.  Pick one up.  (Think Christmas gifts!)  And know you will help preserve the past.

CEMETERY TOUR - Saturday, September 24 at 10 am

Our annual tour of the St Patrick Cemetery will be on September 24 at 10 am.  As has been past practice we begin with the AOH dedication of stones of forgotten Irish immigrants as part of their Mercy Drive program.  Donna Reedy and the AOH have taken on the task of remembering forgotten Irish who are interred in the cemetery in this yearly memorial.  The tour starts immediately after and takes about an hour to 90 minutes.  This year we will be honoring some of the Irish Civil War veterans and visit some new stones that you may have passed before.  The story of the Irish during the CW is fascinating.  Blog readers know we have been doing research to remember these soldiers and honor them in this 150th anniversary year.  We will also place a stone taken from Hugh Cummiskey's homestead into his burial site.  Hugh will rest in a bit of earth of County Tyrone. 

I started giving tours 16 years ago.  I was but a young lad at the time.  I was thinner, had more hair, and more energy.  Catherine and John Goodwin used to join in.  Some folks come out yearly and could probably give the tour themselves.  For those who have asked, the AOH has reprinted the cemetery book onto a CD.  All proceeds will go to helping restore the stones.  All rights have been handed over to them, so that we can start restoration.  By the way the tour goes out rain or shine so maybe I will have a chance to show off my Wellies!  Please pass on the cemetery tour info.  Every year we get calls and emails weeks after the tour asking when it will take place.  We send out plenty of notices and pay the Sun for advertising, but it just seems to pass folks by.  So, spread the word.

Don't forget the Lowell Cemetery is also giving their tours in September.  If you haven't been go.  What a great way to cover the history of early Lowell. 

Walter and I are becoming consumes with the search for the Cummiskeys.  We just spent a wonderful day in the Boston Public Library looking at faded microfilm of old newspapers.  Walter gave up his day off in search of Hugh2.  yes, I did say Hugh2.  Turns out there were Hughs 3 and 4 and maybe more.  Like my own family, they had no imagination in naming their children.  They had a few names and stuck with them through the century. 

There was a great article in the Globe.  Thanks to Dave Raddigan for his interest.  Follow the link: http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2011/09/08/students_digging_in_lowell_ireland_for_connections_to_history/

Reality Check

I'm trying to resume my normal schedule.  Within twelve hours of getting off the plane from Dublin, I was in front of 26 new students.  Tomorrow night I begin my adjunct instruction at SNHU.  I am fortunate that I love my work.  The word vocation comes from the Latin voco- meaning a calling.  I think that I have been called to teach and to teach teachers.  But I have been spoiled. 

There is an expression, "The glory of God is man fully alive."  If that is true I have lived in God's glory for the 11 days I spent in Ireland.  I wish I had words to express what I have learned and experienced.  A couple of firsts-
          - Wellies (Wellington Boots)  Hey I watch Masterpiece Theater.  I've seen the Basil Rathbone movies portraying Sherlock Holmes.  They always walk around with their Wellies.  So for a full week I envisioned myself with Basil Rathbone walking the moors.  In all honesty my Wellies came from WalMart and I did not wear my tweed jacket and cap.
          - Bangers and Champ-  Ok, it's just sausages and mashed potatoes, but doesn't it sound better saying "bangers and champ."
          - Magners-  Guinness, be gone!  Magners is apple cider with the mildest of kicks.  I downed my first within 5 minutes and learned to slow down after that.  Let us say it is too good.
          - Irish whiskey-  I'm not much of a drinker, but I had about 3 hours to wait at Duty Free.  They had samples of several types of whiskey.  So what do you do when you have time to waste.  Keep walking the circle of samples until someone notices it is your 5th visit.
         
And the experiences?  Well I have a new appreciation for the work an archaeologist does.  Folks keep asking if I'm over my jet lag.  Jet lag was not the problem.  The problem was fatigue.  Digging, scraping, shoveling, spading, hauling, kneeling and scraping, kneeling and digging, then holding onto the shovel to stand upright because my back gave out and knees refused to work.  I begged Stuart to just leave me in the hole and cover me with dirt, but he said that would compromise the site. 

For two years I've complained that I can't get a straight answer out of Colm or Ronan.  As the week progressed I found myself saying, "This is perhaps, maybe, sorta, could be....... ."  They have brainwashed me.

So again folks keep asking what was the best part of the trip?  With my whole heart I can say the folks I worked with.  To be given this opportunity by the University, to be in the presence of professionals who love their work and wish to share it with you, and most of all to be with a team of individuals with their likes and differences and to be part of the community.  That's what was formed- a community, a family of sorts.  There were times of sharing, teaching, supporting, and bonding.  That to me was what I will take away the most.  I miss them all already.

Now you may think this is the end of The Big Dig 2011.  No way!  Since our return Colm has had us investigating new leads.  How about a second Hugh Cummiskey!!!!  Say what?  Yup.  The Cummiskey clan was a lot larger than we thought.  Putting the pieces together may lead to new revelations to our Hugh.  On top someone who saw the BBC piece in N. Ireland has sent Colm a new lead on that side of the Atlantic.  I have decided to seek a sabbatical and become a full time Cummiskey investigator.  (Hey, I never thought I'd be at Crossan, so a paid sabbatical is not that far fetched.)

Lastly, don't forget the St Pat's Cemetery tour on Saturday, September 24th.  We've gone some new stories to share with you and we'll be placing a piece of Hugh's homestead into his grave.