Is Meets Was

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...

Called Betsy by those who knew her, her formal given name was Elizabeth. She passed into the mysterious beyond one hundred twenty-four years ago on 29 October—my great-great-grandmother Betsy Fitzgerald nee Graney.  No picture of her, tintype or otherwise, has been discovered. Was she an itsy-bitsy Betsy or a strong, big-boned farmer's wife? Was she brusque and self-absorbed or gentle and kind? In their later years, after they sold their farm to their son, why was she living in Concord, New Hampshire when her husband was living in Manchester? Did she leave her husband, or did he leave her? So many unanswered questions... Betsy's children: Lizzy Spead c. 1870, James E. Fitzgerald c. 1880.  Perhaps her visage is reflected in the faces of her children. She bore ten of them, five in Ireland during the Great Hunger and five in Andover, New Hampshire in the decade before the Civil War. Even though I never met Betsy, and despite the fact that we never co-existed on this planet, Betsy...

The National Archives of Ireland is a wonderful resource for exploring your Irish family history, and it is an invaluable place to explore the Tithe Applotment Books*. Unfortunately, if your ancestors lived in the civil parish of Kilgobban [sometimes spelled Kilgobbin] in the county of Kerry, Ireland, you will NOT find them in the  Tithe Applotment Books at the National Archives of Ireland.   Fortunately for me, at least seven years ago, I downloaded a copy of the now-missing pages. Since then, I have been unable to find the website from which I downloaded these pages. Therefore, for the benefit of others seeking to find traces of their ancestors in Kerry, I am writing this post to provide a link to images of the twenty missing pages. The  pages for Kilgobban from the Tithe Applotment Books include the townlands of Killelton, Knockglass Beg, West Knockglass Beg, Knockglass More, Bonnaw, Curraduff, Glandine, Curracullenagh, Beheenagh , Upper  Kilteenbane , Lower...

My family is very fortunate that we have two tintypes of one of my four great-grandfathers. My guess is that one of the pictures was taken about 1870 and the other about 1875. Although Great-grandpa Gilbert Samuel Merrill lived for about forty years after the tintypes were made, I have yet to find any other pictures of him. This is perplexing, but what is more puzzling is the identity of the man with him in the tintype from about 1870?  If you have any suggestions as to the identity of the man standing next to my great-grandfather, please send me a message at IsMeetsWas@gmail.com. Gilbert Samuel Merrill was born to an older couple on 24 June 1846 in the town of Cumberland, Maine. His parents, Samuel Merrill and Hannah True Warren, were fifty years and thirty-eight years old when they married in nearby Pownal, Hannah's hometown. Twenty-five months after the wedding, Gilbert was born. Hannah became pregnant again in 1849, and tragically Samuel died of sunstroke before the birth of th...

Helen Elizabeth Nimmo, c.1908 I got caught in a time warp when I enhanced and colorized photographs of my grandmother taken when she was a child. Seeing the pain revealed on Grandma's face makes my heart reach for her in a way that it never did when she was alive. We spent a great deal of time together when I was young, mostly playing card games. Despite her physical proximity, there was always an emotional distance. Now I can feel her pain. If I only had understood then... College graduation, Spring 1967 Above is the last photograph taken of Grandma and me. © 2020, Cathy H Paris