Is Meets Was

It is the day before Thanksgiving, and I have FINALLY finished another book. The target audience is people like me with ancestors having the surname of Fitzgerald. My dad's mother was a Fitzgerald. It is available with a hard cover, printed in color. At more than half the price, you can order the paperback version in black & white.  Irish Like Me: The Fitzgeralds  paperback, black & white Irish Like Me: The Fitzgeralds  hard cover, in color I hope you will give it a try.

Don and Grete (Downing) Goodwin, Cape Neddick, Maine, 24 October 2002. About twenty years ago, knowing my love of family history, my cousin Grete's husband sent me an album that he found in a box in his garage. I determined that the album had belonged to my great-grandmother Maggie (Carroll) Merrill (1861–1945).  Most of the photographs had been taken in the late 1800s in Franklin, New Hampshire. If you have an ancestor with the surname of  Carroll, Cunningham, Cushing, Dwyer, Hanley, Killigrew, Lynch, Meneghin, Merrill, Morrison, Munson, Rand, Roberts, Wall, or Wheeler, you may find a picture of them in  Grammy Merrill's Album . © 2023, Cathy H Paris

I started this post twelve years ago, and unintentionally, I did not click the button to publish it. Never too late? In 2004, we visited our Canadian cousin, Olive Joyce Hudson, aka  Joyce Burnell   (1920-2011) . Joyce regaled us with family stories, especially with tales of her personal adventures. Kilquade in County Wicklow c. 1953 Kilquade, Joyce's childhood home in Ireland, came to life as she told us about its history and how her family came to live there. Joyce Burnell, Nick and Cathy Paris, and Irene and Dave Stradtman Filled with non-stop energy, Joyce put us to work picking plums and preparing them for canning.   Although she had been to Niagara Falls a gazillion times, Joyce personally guided us throughout the area. Thank you, Joyce. © 2012, Cathy H Paris

When I think of Grandpa, I remember Limburger cheese, beer, the Brooklyn Dodgers, playing cards, and fun and laughter—memories of a young child visiting him in Brooklyn and later in Florida.  Also, I remember hushed conversations and the closing of the kitchen door to mask the words being spoken—memories from when Grandpa stayed at our home in Valley Stream, New York, during the Kefauver hearings on organized crime (1950-1951). Grandpa was a key witness. And I remember Mom and Dad being away soon after Christmas 1953 because Grandpa was sick in Florida. A week or two after they left, Aunt Helen, who was looking after my brother and me while  Mom and Dad were gone, climbed the stairs to my bedroom, and then she sat beside me on the edge of the bed. She told me that Grandpa had died. I knew I was supposed to cry, but the tears didn’t come. I was only 8 years old and unable to process the news of Grandpa’s death. Throughout the rest of my life, I would always wonder a...

In the next few days or weeks, I am hoping to publish my book Irish Like Me: A Brooklyn Tree . Thinking that I should do a blog about this, my latest book, I went to my blog,  Is Meets Was , only to discover that I had never published anything about my last book. Irish Like Me: Seasoned in New Hampshire .  I published  Irish Like Me: Seasoned in New Hampshire at the end of last year using a self-publishing company, Lulu.com. The hardcover version, which is printed on premium paper, is available on  Lulu.com's website . A paper back version is available from  Amazon  and other distributers of book. This book tells the stories of Dot, Lib, Gilly, and Freddy’s early years and shines a light on the lives of their grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Part of the Greatest Generation, Dot, Lib, Gilly, and Freddy were born in New Hampshire. Both of their grandmothers were Irish Catholic immigrants. One grandfather was born in New Hampshire, the son of...

"Oh, my gosh! Is that Uncle Joe?" And yes, it was. There he was, front and center on my television set. I was watching Netflix and in particular, the two-part documentary,  Sinatra, All or Nothing at All .  The dialogue of the film indicates that Joe Bals, the cop in the forefront with his hand spread wide, was protecting Frank Sinatra as he exited the Paramount Theater. According to the dialogue in the film, most nights at 8:45 p.m. in early 1943, Frank Sinatra left the Paramount, and he was swarmed by fans as he tried to get into the vehicle that would take him ten blocks away to the site of his nightly radio broadcast.  Great-uncle Joseph Bals (1897-1968) was a New York City policeman. He joined the force in 1923 and retired as a lieutenant in 1960. Most of that time he worked in the heart of Manhattan, giving him a unique opportunity to observe the rich, famous, and powerful people of his era.  Joseph Bals, 1923 Joseph Bals, date unknown September 23, 1950, Lt. J...