Summer of 1966 – Dublin – the sights

Dublin is the capital of the Republic of Ireland and therefore is an important city for the Irish people. This was also the city that my father grew up in so I have always been a bit interested in Irish history.

My dad grew up on the north side of the River Liffey in a predominantly residential area. I have visited the area several times and the house that he grew up in is one of a row of housing on a street that is relatively busy now.

We spent quite a bit of time in Dublin (July 10th to the 22nd) and we visited with most of the relatives that lived there at that time. Many different people took us on drives to see the countryside around Dublin as well as visiting different attractions in the city. We also had time that we organized for ourselves. We took two bus tours – Glendalough and Boyne Valley. We also took a walking tour of the center of Dublin.

Notice the green buses in Dublin. I’m sure things have changed a lot, and there are probably a lot more cars on a regular basis in the city today.
Following the coast south from Dublin one comes to Killiney. Cars in Ireland in 1966 were usually small as many of the roads were very narrow. Notice that there is no center line on the road in the picture.
Bray is farther south than Killiney and in the next county, County Wicklow. We would have passed through it on our way to Glendalough.
At Bray there is the Esplanade, the Lawns and the Head. Co. Wicklow

One of the outings that I remember in particular was the day at Dublin Zoo which is located in Phoenix Park. Audrey took us, her four boys and Uncle Ken in her little Austin mini. With Audrey driving and Uncle Ken as passenger in the front seat, that left my sister and I in the back seat with four boys. It was a bit crowded and not at all safe by today’s standards now that everyone has to wear a seat belt. Back in 1966 it was accepted to have six people in the back.

I don’t particularly remember many of the animals in the zoo, but it was a fun day. We had a picnic lunch which consisted of liver pate and sliced beets. In the crowded car, weaving along the streets between the other cars on the road, I got very queasy sitting in the back seat with my sister and four boys! It is interesting what sticks in one’s head many years later. I was not impressed by Irish driving habits.

Uncle George took us and one of his grandchildren for a drive one afternoon to the west of Dublin. We visited the Japanese Gardens at Kildare, which I enjoyed, and I also remember us driving by the Curragh Racecourse at Kildare.

Another memory is of us stopping at a pub in Ireland, I think with Audrey, and even though I was only 16 years old, and not legally allowed to drink, I was allowed into the pub. I was given a mild alcoholic drink which was a mixture of lemonade and beer (if I remember correctly). Drinking culture in Ireland was very different from what I knew from home.

Over 50 years later, I don’t really remember that much from these two weeks in Dublin. Impressions of people and places stick, but not the details. Even reading letters that were sent home about our activities, hasn’t prodded memories at all. It’s almost as if I was reading about another person. But it was fun to meet my dad’s family and get an impression of Irish history.

Summer of 1966 – Boyne Valley tour

One day we took a bus tour that took us north of Dublin. It was an interesting trip that took us to several historic sights in the area.

One stop was at the Hill of Tara, which is ancient burial sight. It looks like a mound but there were many ancient monuments there.

We also stopped at Newgrange, a national monument. It is a prehistoric tomb, which looks like a mound. Both of these two sites would have given us information on the people who lived in Ireland 5,000 years ago. I don’t remember much of that history now, but information can be looked up on Wikipedia. But I do remember wandering around Newgrange and the area around it.

Another part of this tour was seeing the place where the Battle of the Boyne was fought – a battle in 1690 between the deposed King James II and King William III. This was basically a battle between two groups of Englishmen fighting over the throne of England, but on Irish soil. Never having been that interested in battles, my memory of the area is almost non-existent.

Drogheda was the last stop on our tour. It is about 50 km north of Dublin.

Summer of 1966 – Dublin – the relatives

We arrived in Dublin on the 10th of July and stayed until the 23rd of July, so almost two weeks. We met those of Dad’s siblings who were living in Dublin and their children. It was an interesting experience to meet relatives that lived in a completely different country to us.

Audrey and Uncle Ken

Audrey was a 33-year old mother with four young boys, aged 9, 7, 4 and 3. With four active boys, she did not work outside of the home, but I think she was very busy in the home. She was also looking after her father. I don’t really remember her husband but I think he ran his own business. They had a large house so I presume they had a reasonably good income.

Uncle Ken, a widower, was her father. Audrey’s mother was my dad’s sister. During the Second World War my mom and dad, and eventually my sister, were living in Glasgow, Scotland and Violet, Ken and Audrey were living just outside Glasgow. Audrey would have remembered my sister as a baby.

In 1966, Uncle Ken was living with his daughter and had his own small suite in her house. He was no longer in good health, but was still driving a car. He was very kind to us during our visit in Dublin. We had met Uncle Ken before as he and Aunt Violet had visited us in Vancouver in 1955. It was mentioned in one of the letters how nice it was to meet someone we had met before.

The first couple of nights we stayed in the Marine Hotel in Sutton, paid for by Uncle Ken. It was a very short distance from where he and Audrey lived. When Audrey went off for a week’s holiday with her husband and children, we were invited to stay in the house with Uncle Ken. They were very hospitable people.

Aunt Vera

Vera was a widow, a seamstress and 61 years old. She lived in a typical row house with a little garden at the back. She had a low income. She did not have a refrigerator which in 1966 would have been a sign of low income. But she was a very kind aunt and invited us to stay with her for a few days. I remember her as a very kind and hard-working woman.

One memory from staying at Vera’s had to do with milk and ice cream. As she didn’t have a refrigerator and it was summertime, milk had to be bought fresh every morning. One day she was feeding us dinner and Victor and Dierdre were there too. When we had finished the main part of the dinner, Victor dashed off on his motorcycle and bought some ice cream that we had for dessert. There was no way for Vera to keep it frozen, so it had to be purchased immediately before consuming.

Uncle George

Uncle George was a recent widower, 71 years old, but a very kind and interesting person. He took us out for several drives. One was out to a Japanese garden and to the horse racing park at Kildare.

Mabel

Mabel, Uncle George’s daughter, had four children who were 18, 16, 13 and 10 years old, considerably older than Audrey’s children. Mabel was only about fifteen years younger than my dad. Mabel would have been forty years old in 1966. I remember two of her children from that trip. Avril was a little bit younger than me (13 years old), but accompanied us on one of the trips that Uncle George took us on. We also visited Quentin who was in the hospital with a broken leg. I also remember visiting Mabel’s home and enjoying my evening there.

Mabel was married to Bernard Gargan whose father had started a candy factory and he was now running it. We were taken to see it. The day we were there they were making jellied candies, something like Seigmenn in Norway. Very sugary and not at all healthy. But it was interesting to see how the candies were made. I can’t find many references to the company now (J.M. Gargan and Company) so I presume it was closed down a long time ago.

Uncle Jack and Aunt Gertie

I don’t remember this couple so very much, though Uncle Jack was tall and slender. He was 73 years old in 1966, so I’m sure he was retired. He was the oldest sibling in the family. From the letters that I have reread, they took us for a drive and also took us to their own home, which had “not a thing out of place, or a speck of dust”.

Virtue of the Week – Empathy

As I was writing out the text for this virtue, I was thinking about how I would practice this virtue and I decided to work on how my actions affect others. With the COVID-19 pandemic a reality, I am experiencing things slightly differently than normal.

First of all, we are three living in the house, with two generations, that don’t always have the same opinions about various topics. With little contact with others, except by telephone, we are having to adapt to each other in ways that are not necessarily easy. A little empathy for others will help keep ourselves at peace with each other, at least, most of the time.

Second of all, I have to respect the rules of the pandemic, which is to hold my distance from others (1 to 2 meters) and to not visit people who might be at risk. I have already cut down the amount of time I spend shopping as that is where I could meet people who are not respecting the social-distancing rules or are carrying the virus without being sick themselves.

I can’t change the way other people lead their lives, but I can change the way I react to others. I can think before I act or say something. I can plan my activities so that I respect other people’s needs as well as my own. By using empathy I can try to see how others see a situation and allow for different viewpoints.

“Empathy is the ability to put ourselves in another’s place and to understand their experience. We are deeply present to their thoughts and feelings with such compassionate accuracy that they can hear their own thoughts more clearly. Empathy connects us with our common humanity. It protects us from prejudice, blame and judgment – those things that divide us from each other. With empathy, we reflect on how our actions affect others. It moves us to seek justice for every person, even those with whom we disagree. Empathy inspires us to ge giving and selfless. Empathy connects our hearts.”

When I practice Empathy, I:

  • seek to understand others’ experience
  • listen with compassion
  • refrain from judging and blaming
  • think about how my choices impact others
  • care about people’s rights
  • feel my connection to all people.

Summer of 1966 – Glendalough

The round tower, a view of the valley and St. Kevin’s Church

Glendalough is a valley with two lakes in County Wicklow, about 50 km south of Dublin, in the Wicklow Mountains. The name, Glendalough, means the “valley of two lakes”.

We took a bus trip to visit this famous location with its tall round stone tower, stone church and many ruins. We learned the story of the location and its ruins. I’m using Wikipedia as my source of information at this writing.

The main tourist attraction is the early medieval monastic settlement founded by St. Kevin in the 6th century. Most of the old buildings are in ruins, but the round tower is still standing and St. Kevin’s Church is still intact.

The round tower is about 30 meters high and was built as a landmark and probably also as a storage area. The entrance to it is 3.5 meters from the base and there are several floors inside. If the settlement was attacked, it could also be used as a place of refuge.

There are the remains of several churches plus a cathedral. Over the centuries it seems to have been quite a large settlement here, as there would have been farms, workshops and dwellings connected to the monastery.

Today it seems to be a popular place to get out of the city though there still seems to be tourist buses. The current bus tour starts at 9 am in the center of Dublin and gets back at 17:30. (Except that during the corona-virus pandemic tours are temporarily cancelled.)

Virtue of the Week – Awe

Awesome has become a popular word in the last few years and yet what do we really mean when we use it? I don’t use it that much, but I think of the landscape around where I live when I think of “awe”. Even the picture on the virtue card shows mountains with peaks and snow.

Awe makes us realize how small we are, as individuals, when compared to the size of the planet earth and when compared to our creator, God. In these days of being worried about getting sick from the virus COVID-19, it is interesting to reflect on how a small thing like a virus can empty the streets of large cities like New York and San Francisco.

When I contemplate working with “awe” this week, I have to keep in mind both the large and the miniature in this world. I am somewhere in the middle. My actions can affect how other people’s lives are. If I am careless, others can be hurt. If I am kind, perhaps I can help others have a better life.

As the gardening season is slowly starting, I find myself in awe of how nature is so complex and yet so beautiful. I’m hoping that with warmer temperatures, the snow will disappear this week and I will be able to help nature fulfill its destiny.

“Awe is deep respect and reverence for the Source of life. It is humility and wonder before the power of God. Contemplating life’s beauty and mystery leads us to communion. Reflecting on our place in the universe, we seem small and insignificant, yet it is awe-inspiring to realize that no one else on earth is just like us. Each of us has a unique potential for reflecting the Divine virtues in our souls. We awaken them by choosing to live them. When we practice awe, we are alert to the signs and wonders placed in our path. We open ourselves to Grace.”

When I practice Awe, I:

  • am humble before the power of the Creator
  • take time to contemplate and commune
  • am aware of the sacredness of life
  • cultivate the Divine virtues in my nature
  • discern the signs and synchronicities of life
  • deepen my connection to Grace.

Summer of 1966 – Dad’s family

One of the reasons for visiting Ireland was that my Dad had grown up in Dublin and still had a lot of relatives in the area. There were also relatives in England, some of whom we visited. In the following information, birth dates should be reliable, but some people who were living at the time the information was collected may have since died and therefore there is a question mark. They may also still be living. I have very little contact with the Commins family.

My dad was the only one of his siblings that moved farther away than England. When my mom married him in 1939, she moved to England to marry him. They got married on the 5th of May in 1939, moved to Glasgow and the Second World War started in September 1939. Dad’s sister, Violet, lived just outside of Glasgow so they saw each other regularly. Audrey was 6 years old when my mom and dad got married and was their flower-girl. Shortly after the war ended and travel was again allowed, my parents moved back to my mother’s home area, settling in the Kerrisdale area of Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada.

During the 1950s, both my dad’s sister, Violet and her husband, Ken, and dad’s brother, Robert and his wife, Gertie, came to visit us. So when my sister and I visited Dublin we had met Uncle Ken about 11 years before.

George Allen Commins, my grandfather

George Allen Commins (1866-1953) married Emily Florence Egginton (1869 -1930) in 1892. They had ten children:

  • John Egginton Commins (1893-1982), usually called Jack, married to Gertrude H. Carrol (1892-1873), no children, living in Dublin in 1966
  • George Albert Commins (1895-1977), married to Gertrude Maisie Dillon (1885-1966), one daughter, Mabel (1926-?), living in Dublin in 1966. Gertrude had died in January 1966, just a few months before we came to Dublin.
  • Robert Henry Commins (1896-1981), married to Gertrude Ganil (?-1966), one daughter, Joyce (1934-1975), living in London in 1966
  • Florence Gertrude O’Shaughnessey (1897-1981), married to Samuel O’Shaughnessey (?-1951), no children, living in Richmond in 1966
  • Violet Maud Inglis (1899-1959), married to Ken Inglis (1889-1969), one daughter, Audrey (1933? – ?). Ken was living in Audrey’s house, in Sutton, Dublin in 1966.
  • Edward Alexander Commins (1901-1964), often called Neddie
  • Adeline Victoria Commins (1902-1920)
  • Vera Constance Sweeney (1905-1991), married to Owen Sweeney (1890-1962), one son, Victor (1942- ?), living at 70 Sundrive Road, in Kimmage, Dublin in 1966
  • Walter Reginald Commins (1909-1989), married to Ivy Nellie Clegg (1907-1997), one son, Michael (1944- ), living in Rochdale, England in 1966
  • Albert Edward Commins (1911-1989), married to Margaret Joyce Heaps (1907-1986), often called Pat or Paddy (my father), two daughters, Aileen Margaret and Patricia Joyce. Living in Vancouver, B.C. in 1966.
Back row: Roy Dickson, George Commins, Walter Commins, Jack Commins, Ken Inglis
Front row: Florence O’Shaughnessy, Ivy Commins, Vera Sweeney, Gertie Commins, Audrey Dickson, Mabel Gargan

Of the younger generation we met:

  • Mabel Gargan, married to Bernard Talbot Gargan (1919-1984) and had four children, Edward Trevor (1947-2009), Malcolm Glifford (1950-?), Averil Janice (1953-?) and Quentin Talbot (1956-?)
  • Audrey Dickson, married to Roy Dickson (1935-?) and had four children, David Kenneth (1957-?), Alan Richard (1959-?), Gary Robert (1962-?) and Ian Andrew (1963-?). I’ve always had a special relationship with Audrey as we have the same birthday, the 13th of December, though she is 16 years older than me. She was very good at sending a birthday present every year.
  • Victor Sweeney was unmarried in 1966, but married Deirdre Flanigan in 1967 and had two sons, Leo (born in 1970) and Ian (born in 1977)
  • Micheal Commins (the only male to carry on the Commins name), married Brenda Hays in 1964, but had no children in 1966. Later they had two sons, Christopher (born 1969) and Julian (born 1974)

Writing letters – past and present documentation

My mom used to write a lot of letters, usually once a year in November or December to keep in touch with relatives overseas, particularly my dad’s brothers and sisters. I read a lot of novels set in the past and one of a woman’s daily tasks was to write letters. How times have changed! In our family it is my husband that writes the letters, when necessary, though most of them get sent as emails now.

Yet, as I am going down memory lane and trying to recall trips that I have taken in the past, it is the written letters and postcards that were sent and collected afterwards which have become a permanent record of what happened at that time. Our memories are haphazard and not really to be relied on. Most things have been forgotten 50 years later. Only a few isolated incidents or images remain. So finding letters that were written at the time, gives some insights into what actually happened, or at least what was recorded.

What happens to diaries that have been written on a computer? Are they stored somewhere where they can be retrieved? We have old diskettes and discs in a box in the attic that are impossible to read today. What are we doing to save the information that we record now? Will this blog be accessible in 20 years? I doubt it.

Typewritten information is a lot easier to read than handwritten information, especially if the handwriting is either small and cramped (and old eyes are trying to read it in poor light) or is a style of writing than we haven’t mastered reading. In the novels that I read, in the 19th century people would write in both directions on a piece of paper to save the cost of sending an extra sheet of paper in the mail. That, of course, made deciphering what was written even more difficult.

Today’s older people have the challenge of becoming more digital, but on the other hand, I think it is important to retain a lot of information in a digital format as well as, but not instead of, information on paper. Digital information becomes much easier to share with others, for example, a younger generation and those living far away.

What I would like to have time to do is to record old letters that are worth keeping (though not necessarily all letters may be worth the effort) in digital format, but it must also be printed out on paper so that later generations will have access to it.

Some years ago my sister typed out all the letters my mom, who was living in Glasgow, Scotland, wrote to her own mom during the Second World War. This allowed my sister to share the contents of these letters with me. I still have them on my computer, but perhaps I should also print them out so that they don’t get lost.

In 1966 I took a eleven-week trip with my sister and we visited Ireland, Scotland and England. In 1979-1980 I took a nine-month trip with my husband to several countries in Europe plus Israel. These letters too should be made more accessible. I would enjoy having opinions from my readers as what they would like to read more of and what their recommendations are for long-term storage of old documents. Please use the comment area at the end of this blog.

Summer of 1966 – Cobh and Cork

This series of blogs started off as a record of my memories, both how little I remember from over 50 years ago and how inaccurate I remember things. Now, however, postcards and letters written home during the trip have been found so that the memories will be added to with information written at the time. In addition, I look things up online to see what historical information is available and perhaps some comments as to what has happened to a place since then.

Cobh is on the south side of Great Island in Cork Harbour. The name is a Gaelicisation of the English word “cove”. At one time it was called Queenstown by the English and it was a major transatlantic port for emigrants from Ireland. The harbor is quite sheltered as ships travel several kilometers into a very sheltered bay.

We arrived at 19:00, so the day was almost finished. Though today, Cobh is a cruise ship terminal, when we arrived the Arkadia anchored in the bay and a tender took us to land. This may have been because we were so few passengers that were getting off there, but I also wonder if there wasn’t a terminal or quay suitable for ocean liners.

From a letter written at the time: ” We got into Cobh at 3 pm today but weren’t able to get off the boat till 7 pm because the Rotterdam was also in & was using the tender. Boy what a wait. – we weren’t able to get any dinner either which didn’t please us too much. We got through customs etc. all right and then had a 5 min. walk to a Guest House where we are staying. It is very nice. a big room with twin beds. Mrs. Allen gave us some supper too which was very good.”

We spent one night in a guest house here. I remember Mrs. Allen as a very friendly lady and she arranged a place for us to stay in Cork for the following two nights. I imagine she had a friend who also ran a guesthouse, or bed-and-breakfast as they were often called.

I don’t remember if it was Cobh or Cork, but I remember hearing the church bells all night, something that was quite unusual for me.

I don’t remember much about Cork itself, but we took two tourist trips from here. One trip was to Blarney Castle and the other was to Killarney.

Blarney Castle

Blarney Castle is a medieval castle from 1446 and is the location of the Blarney Stone. Its reputation is that gives the “gift of the gab”, in other words, the ability to speak well, however I did not like its location and refused to try to “kiss” it. You climb a high tower, then lean over backwards over an empty space to touch the famous stone. No thanks, not for me. We did climb up though and get a view of the area.

According to the letter sent at the time, we took a bus out to Blarney Castle and then back again.

Blarney Castle is a ruin, as I have written on the back of the card, “it is very old and parts are missing.”

Killarney and County Kerry

The next day we took a tour bus trip to Killarney which is in County Kerry. The bus driver would have been the guide and he would have told stories about the different places we drove through. There is beautiful scenery in this part of Ireland and quite rugged mountains. There are very few forests in Ireland as most of the flat land is cultivated. Grazing animals, such as sheep, would keep vegetation low as well.

I have two memories of bus trips, probably in Ireland. The first is how difficult it was to see over the hedgerows. This was particularly true in agricultural areas. Another memory is how the bus driver would toot his horn before going round a tight bend in the road, in order to warn anyone coming in the opposite direction. Tourist buses could be on narrow country roads which might not have let two vehicles pass easily, especially in the curves. But I also remember family members driving us around in Ireland doing the same thing.

Cara Lake and Carrauntoohil, Ireland’s highest mountain, County Kerry
This postcard of the Gap of Dunloe, Killarney, was sent by Uncle Ken in 1958. This picture actually reminds me of places one can see in Norway, with a road winding up a gap between mountains.

I remember seeing the horses pulling the carts and taking tourists for a ride.

From a letter, the route the bus took was Cork, Macroom, Ballingeary, Glengariff, Kenmare, Moll’s Gap, Killarney and back via Loo Bridge and Macroom to Cork. According to Google maps this is about 250 km on today’s roads and 4 hours of driving. The letter indicated that we had a two-hour stop in the town of Killarney, I would presume so one could get a meal or take a ride on the horse and cart.

Summer of 1966 – Montreal

View of Montreal taken from Mount Royal Park

“June 29
Dear Granny,
The train trip wasn’t too bad though I was miserable with a cold one day. Trish travelled fairly well. Met some nice people on the train who we played cards and password with. Montreal is very hot – hardly slept all night. We are going up here today. Love Aileen + Pat”

Montreal was a large city and though I had grown up in a city there were two major differences. Of course, Montreal is a French-speaking city, so signs would have been in French. As I had taken French in school, this wouldn’t have caused any problems, but hearing French spoken would have been unusual.

What sticks in my mind most was the traffic culture. In Vancouver, pedestrians always obeyed traffic lights and never crossed the road without the “WALK” signal or a green light, even if there were no cars coming. In Montreal, however, it seemed like chaos to me – people crossing against the light, dashing between moving cars. Cars were honking their horns a lot more. This was my first real experience of a different culture.

The picture in the postcard is taken from the hill above the center of Montreal. We climbed up the hill and walked around Mount Royal Park. I have always enjoyed the great outdoors, more than city streets, so I remember walking through the trees.

My memory is warm, sunny, summer weather, though on the postcard Aileen mentioned that it was very hot.