PASSING THE TORCH

By Sharon Schultz

Ever since I can remember, I launched regular assaults on my parents and grandparents looking for general information about our family and specifics about individual ancestors. I worried them to a fault with my constant inquiries, requiring answers they labeled as “personal information,” for anything they didn’t want to share. That happened more often than not but I don’t regret one bit of my curious nature, especially now that they are all long gone. There’s no one left to ask.

I was discovering my ancestry way before Ancestry.com came along, but it was useful in providing some of the missing branches from my family tree. Armed with more information than I’d dreamed possible, I knew where my people came from. The next logical step would be to see where they came from, and that meant a trip to the Republic of Ireland – with my daughter.

Amy is my only daughter. I’ve been grooming her to be the keeper of the family history vault since she was young. Like my mother, I initiated her with colorful stories about growing up with my parents, grandparents, and a plethora of aunts, uncles and cousins. My grandmother was one of 18 children! 

We left a hot and muggy Dulles Airport in Washington, D.C. on a Tuesday evening and arrived at Dublin Airport the next morning, under cool, cloudy skies. This was Amy’s first-time in Ireland. I had been here before but I had much more family information this time around so there were some new places for us to explore together, and others to introduce and revisit. Our first stop was the village of Manorcunningham, Co. Donegal, in northwest Ireland. 

Manorcunningham, and sister village, Newtoncunningham, are named after my 9^th great-grandfather, John Cunningham, the recipient of a 17^th century land grant. Although my information didn’t pinpoint my family’s exact location, the view of Manorcunningham’s Lough Swilly, nestled prominently in the valley below, was nothing short of stunning. Amy and I took lots of photos as we imagined our forefathers enjoying this beautiful scene as part of their everyday lives. 

The Cunningham Clan had its origins in Scotland long ago. They settled in Donegal and as the family grew, they began expanding south. Just outside of the village of Glencolmcille, I’d made a startling discovery last summer that I was eager to show my daughter. 

The old Glen Bay Hotel has remained empty for years, left just as it was, as if everyone got up and went home. Perched on a cliff overlooking Glen Bay, with Glen Head looming large in the background, the Glen Bay Hotel lies along the road between the villages of Glencolmcille and Malin Beg on the Wild Atlantic Way.

My discovery? Photos of Glen Bay Hotel popped up on several of my ancestors’ profiles on Ancestry.com! That’s proof positive for me. 

Apparently a pair of Cunningham brothers were the primary proprietors of Glen Bay Hotel decades ago, until they weren’t. It’s assumed it was let go due to financial constraints. I haven’t any information of my own that allows me to agree or disagree. Suffice it to say that I did speak with one of the longtime residents in that corner of Ireland, Liam Cunningham, director of Oideas Gael in Glencolmcille, whose presence assures me that there are Cunningham’s living in that region. Additional research is needed.

The next stop on the Cunningham tour was the most important one of all. We bid farewell to the Atlantic coast and traveled to Ireland’s lush midlands in County Longford. There we explored the thriving village of Ballymahon, birthplace of my paternal great-grandparents, James and Rose Cunningham. 

Walking down Main Street in Ballymahon, we went to the village square where my ancestors once gathered to give or get information and socialize with the other villagers. Amy and I marveled at the National School where Ballymahon children attended primary classes, and St. Matthew’s church where our family’s babies were baptized, their children were taught catechism, and the adults thanked God for their blessings. 

We planned to spend the night in Ballymahon, at Skelly’s Pub on Main Street. That evening, my cousin and her family, who lived nearby, would come to Skelly’s and join us for a family dinner. This would be Amy’s first-time meeting her Irish cousins.

Dinner at Skelly’s was fantastic and the company was to the moon and back. For me it was catching up with my cousin Lisa, her husband Sean, and their sons. For Amy, it was meeting and getting to know her Irish family in person. Amy would also have the opportunity to meet our cousin Patrick while in Dublin later in the week.

Many topics were discussed that night, most having to do with family. At one point, we spoke about a nearby cemetery called Concallow, where many of the Cunningham Clan from Ballymahon are laid to rest. Little did I know the role that conversation would play in our unexpected adventure the next day.

The next morning, Amy and I took an early walk along Main Street while we waited for Skelly’s to begin serving breakfast. As we stood chatting on the sidewalk outside of the pub, a man wearing the vest of a village worker approached us. He asked if I was the woman who had been speaking about Concallow cemetery in the restaurant last night. Being a suspicious American I was taken aback, but I nodded anyway. I’m so glad I did!

Our new acquaintance, Liam, worked for the village of Ballymahon and knew everyone in it. He asked if I had people buried in the cemetery and told me about a man who was the self-appointed caretaker of Concallow for the last decade, maintaining it and making improvements all on his own. Liam explained how proud John was of his work and that he could take us to our relatives’ graves straight away – he knew them all. Liam said the man always spent Sunday mornings at Skelly’s and called him to be sure.

Next thing I know, Amy and I are climbing into a car with a stranger we just met, bound for a cemetery I didn’t know how to get to. I could imagine my deceased mother rolling in her grave. What did we just do?

Fortunately, John Ryan was indeed the man Liam claimed him to be. He took us right to the grave of my great-great grandparents. He knew exactly where they were, and he had a story for every grave we passed along the way. John is not only Concallow’s groundskeeper, but its historian, as well. He provided us with a wonderful glimpse into my Irish family’s world. Did I mention John knows my cousin, Fr. Anthony Draper?

Our trip across Ireland to discover our roots was a huge success. Amy is eager to learn more about her ancestors and is looking forward to our next trip to Ireland. As for me, I’ve proudly carried the ancestry torch all my life and now, I am more than happy to place it in my daughter’s capable hands as another generation reaps the fruits of my family explorations.

Sharon Schultz is a retired freelance photojournalist and proud Bay Boomer.