This is my grandmother's birthday. Born Mary Frances Gavin in Rutland, VT in 1904. I always remembered her birthday because it was the day before St. Patrick's Day and she would get green and white flowers. I remember there was a little "Erin Go Bragh" sign in it one year and she explained to me what it meant. Having a little trip down genealogy lane today to look at my ancestors. On that side, it looks like my great, great grandfather, Martin Rohan of County Clare is my most recent Irish immigrant ancestor. Funny how it's so interesting to me now. I want to find out about all her siblings, scattered by a fire. I may have to sign up on one of the services and dig in. I also want to buy a butter dish, so middle age is a thing.
Finding out such interesting things, like she was 8 months pregnant when she got married. Like my father's grandfather lived on the same street as my mother's in Cooperstown. All roads lead back there, to Vermont, and on to the west of Ireland.
I had such vivid memories of making the beds with my grandmother because the Brewster house had those old woven bedspreads. Memory so tactile and intense. The past is very real to me, raised as I was by Edwardians.
I was thinking of the house in Brewster last night when I had trouble sleeping. I think we stayed too long. It wasn't a vacation, it really became a home to us. And because it's so much better than this, it's doubly painful.
Things move forward here. People are getting vaccinations but the British variant is rising. When will it ever end. When will we ever learn.
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