|
Ireland Roots Trip, 2002
It took about 30
minutes to get there, and when we did, the sun was on its way down. We
met Paullina in her driveway. She greeted us each deliberately saying,
“you’re welcome.”
Bobby engaged with a
big smile and offered to sweep us off to a lookout over the Glen before
the sun came down. I could have sworn we were in San Luis Obispo in
winter from that view. We overlooked the whole Glen and faced the Galti
Mountains dead ahead.
We caught up with
Bobby, learned about his 150 head dairy farm, on his 110 acres, and made
our way to a nice local Hotel for a drink. Bobby was kind and shared
anything we asked about.
Back at Pauline’s,
officially the Fruen farm, we got to see the place where it all started.
Bridget Fruen was raised in that house, sister of Tom Fruim, where
descendants Pauline (by manage) and Bobby Haze, now resided. Pauline has
a total of 5 kids, all alive and well in the world.
Bridget and Tom Fruim
had another sister, Elizabeth, whose descendants are the O’Brien’s, that’s
how they come into the picture. Confused yet? Good.
We sat around
Pauline’s dining table eating cold sandwiches, soft white bread, and drank
tea for hours catching up. 21-year-old Tommy arrived home after his
athletics, having played a football and rugby game that day. We all ate
and Pauline talked knowingly about our heritage, she really did know a
lot, I couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that I was sitting in the same
kitchen where my great-great grandmother was raised. Pretty incredible,
pretty darn incredible it was, and so was the peaceful feeling of coming
home that enveloped me.
Pauline told us how my
great-great-great grandparents lived thee in 1800s, and maybe even a
generation beyond that! Now that’s some roots! I took a bathroom break
and marveled at the house as I made my way through it. The walls were
three feet thick, but the interior was so well taken care of, it looked
absolutely brand new. When I returned to the table, Pauline told us of a
visit she had with another cousin, Patrick from Albany, NY, who is now 91
years old. She said he was sitting by the fire, “right there,” she
pointed next to us, when he told her he remembered seeing Tom Fruim
sitting across from him smoking his pipe. This must have been in the
early 1920s or so. “So this is all not that far away you see,” Pauline
said. Hard to imagine, the thought still gives me chills. We left the
Fruen farm late that evening, reluctantly. We exchanged emails and
addresses and left with heavy hearts. Back to Michelle’s Town was our
fate, for another quick nap at Coolacunna.
We got to Killkenny
frantic around noon. We had very loose plans with Ann Haze, a descendant
and nearby neighbor of the old Stokes farm, and had some shopping to do.
Every time we tried to arrange plans with the Stokes line, something got
in our way. But nothing was going to stop us from visiting the other side
off our family tree on Pa’s fathers end, not after being so close.
After a quick buzz
through Killkenny, who won the hurling championship the day before, we
wound up on a narrow road to Ballingarry.
 
We were still laughing
at the photo shoot we just had at the Ballingarry town sign down the road,
we must have snapped 100 pictures with 5 cameras, as we bounced to the top
of a narrow country road about and hour from anywhere.
We finally arrived at
the Phillip Stokes farm, where my great-great grandfather was born and
raised. There was a new home where the old farm stood. Bill was crushed
at the sight. Although the new home was very nice, that piece of history
is now lost. The barn and stable out back was still there, our family’s
original Irish farm.
 
The view from the farm
was spectacular. It overlooked a gradual slope into distant emerald
farmlands. We circled the property like we were playing a game of cowboys
and Indians, taking pictures like mad, while we waited for Ann to met us
at John Haze’s home.
Next
|
