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Mrs R Carr,
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These are the McIntyre Family arms.
The motto is "Per Ardua" which means "Through Hardship"
This is a picture by my granddaughter Eilis-Marie b.1998
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My earliest memories date from around 1942, some time after the birth of Jim, the youngest of my brothers. The sharp, cold feel of the marble countertop in the "Coe"( forerunner of today's Co-op) is one.My mother had seated me there rather firmly, probably to keep me from wandering. It is possible that this was a new experience, as I remember feeling puzzled,and connecting this feeling with the unfamiliar object sitting next to the counter.Later I learned that it was called a pram. |
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One Christmas that will live forever in my memory is December 1977. My Father had died in in September 1976 so Frank and I decided to spend Christmas in Doaghbeg with my mother. The next year, we felt it was better for everybody if I went back to Donegal and brought Mama back to spend Christmas in Reading.
So as soon as the school holidays began I flew to Belfast and caught a train to Derry - the first problem came when the train was stopped some distance outside Derry. We were told that a bomb had been placed on the line, so the train would be delayed until all had been made safe. As time passed I realised I would have trouble making the bus from Derry to Letterkenny.
At last, the train began to move, and we soon arived in Derry. The next problem was the lack of taxis. There was no taxi rank, and we were told to wait and hope that a taxi would pass by, which eventually happenned. The driver took several of us at once, but as I was the last to be dropped off -at the bus station- I had missed the evening bus to Letterkenny. Nothing for it but to look for another taxi. However the streets were deserted, so there was nobody to ask for directions. Just then there came the sound of tramping boots and around the corner came a line of soldiers, running. As they passed I asked the last in line if I knew where I could get a taxi. He gave me directions while the seargeant yelled at him to keep moving.
I found the taxi booth and spent the last of my money for the journey to Letterkenny, where I rang Eddie Doherty to come and take me to Doaghbeg, where I had to ask my mother to pay him, as I had no cash left.
I am so grateful to that soldier, as, I only realised later, he was putting his life in danger in stopping to help me. No wonder his seargeant shouted at him.
To find out more click http://www.facebook.com/rosaleen.carr
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More about my father, his family and anecdotes from his life
My father was an excellent story teller, a great asset to him in his teaching career and a source of delight to his children. It is unfortunate that we did not make some record of his stories, and have to rely on increasingly fragile memories. His mother died when he was only three, but he did have acouple of early memories of the days before the family left Glasgow, to live with their grandparents in Fanad Co Donegal. One was of sitting on a step, crying loudly and being picked up and comforted, presumably by his mother.
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He also remembered a park with a pond where he sailed a little boat. However, most of his
childhood memories are from his days in Doaghbeg. He, his brothers and his one sister were
the first of three sets of orphan cousins to be brought up on the McAteer farm.
His schooling began in the Doaghbeg School which was situated at the bottom of the slope
below the building we all called the New House, although it had been built many years
before we stayed there on holiday in 1946.
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From an early age, my father was an avid reader and often recalled how at the end of each
summer term, the would be given their readers for the following year. He would take it with
him when he was sent to herd the cows, and this resulted in him having read it from cover to
cover long before the summer holidays were over.
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He instilled in his children the same love of reading, which has stood us in good stead over
the years both as a source of pleasure and a means of extending our knowledge.
I loved to listen to his stories about his childhood. One I remember was about himself and
his brother, Ignatius. They were up during the night to watch a cow which was about to
calve. This was a task often given to youngsters so that the adults could have some rest until
they were needed. Nothing was happenning and the two boys began to feel hungry. So they decided to make a pancake. They had often watched Big Ma making one of the griddle, and we sure they could do it. They mixed the ingredients, hung the gridle over the fire, and poured the batter on. They forgot to rub fat on the griddle surface so when they tried to turn the pancake they found it had stuck fast to the gridle |
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Last Sunday, we were listening to Ireland's Eye on Radio Berkshire, when they played a song that
took me back to my childhood days. The song was called " Kelly the Boy from Killane" and it was a
great favourite of my father. We heard him sing it so often that we knew it off by heart, from
beginning to end ( I still do). My father had good reason to consider it one of his favourites. When
he was in his teens he was at a social gathering in Portsalon Hotel. Somebody persuaded him to
entertain the company with a song. He chose to perform 'Kelly'. Afterwards a man came up to him and
gave him half a crown - a huge sum of money for a youngster in those days. A friend told him, later
on that the stranger was in fact ' on the run' !
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When my father was first assistant in All Saints School in Coatdyke, Lanarkshire (which lies between Airdrie and Coatbridge in the central lowlands of Scotland) he taught handiworks to the 11 and 12 year olds in the top class. The work included making stools with deats made of woven coloured string and it was watching my son Brendan make the same sort of stool for his little son, Emile, that brought the memory back. Daddy also taught the boys basketry. I often wished I could do it, as I watched my dad weaving canes, keeping them damp all the time, as they would crack if they became too dry. All sorts of objects, for example bags, waste paper baskets etc, could be made using raffia and milk bottle tops. These tops were not foil, as modern ones are, but cardboard. The bottle necks were a bit wider and the cardboard tops were circular to fit inside the opening. They had a circle in the centre which sould be pressed out (perhaps to make it easier to remove the top). Once collected and cleaned the raffie was woven round and round the bottle tops until they were covered. They were then joined together to make useful articles. When my brother John was in the second top class, groups of boys worked on two tapestry type pictures - one of American Indian themes and one Egyptian. To find out more click http://www.facebook.com/rosaleen.carr
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I have many personal memories of
my mother's family. By the time I knew them, my grandparents were living at 16, Denbrae Street,
Shettleston, where they lived out the remainder of their lives. 5 of their offspring still lived with them. It
was the norm at that time for single adults to remain in the family home until they left to get married.
One daughter, Mary and one son, Hugh were already married. Hugh was living in New York with his
wife Margorie (?) and daughter, Mary Alice.
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Mary and her husband Charlie had married in America, but by this time (the 40s) were living in Peterborough. They had three daughters, Rosemary(Roma), Brenda and Ann(e). Naturally, I was much better acquainted with my single aunts and uncles, because we visited our grandparents every second Sunday, as a rule. I looked forward to these visits, especially the trips to Tollcross Park on sunny days in Summer. I remember visiting a little museum in the park with my Grandpa, where there was a glass with some stuffed birds and animals, depicting the rhyme "Who Killed Cock Robin?" It fascinated me, but I don't remember going there again. My Grandma's lovely dinners may have been part of the attraction to 16, Denbrae Street. My mother was also able to make interesting and nourishing meals out of the meagre rations available, and always contributed a cooked joint of beef to the meals at Grandma's. as she knew that her mother invariably had other guests to cater for, as well as us. Aunt Susan, the eldest of the family, was a very outgoing person. I was rather in awe of her (still, I was in awe of nearly all adults, and a good few of my peers, at that time!) At the very lively after-dinner discussions that took place during those long-ago visits, Susan was never loth to voice her opinions always with a touch of humour |
