Memories of my Irish grandmother; Mrs A.R. Kehoe.
She was the only grandmother we knew ; our maternal grandmother from Wexford Town in Ireland's relatively sunny south-east. She was born and christened Agnes Regis Breen and subsequently married our grandfather John F. Kehoe. He grew up on a Wexford farm. As a young man he was employed as a drapery assistant at the shoe & drapery business on 16 North Main Street in Wexford. Later by dint of hard work he was able to purchase that business and it was above this shop that my mother and her other siblings came into the world.
The faded photographic images above show Agnes as a young married women with her husband John and as a young lassie with her father and one of her sisters. I believe she is the elder of the two girls shown to the right of the younger sibling in the photo on the right side of the page. The younger sister is probably our Great Aunt Madge(Margaret). Agnes was born in 1888, the second eldest of four daughters of Walter P. Breen and his wife Margaret, who lived at 44 William Street, Wexford Town according to the 1911 Irish Census. In the 1901 census he was shown as living in a lodging house in Rosslare Harbor so he was probably away from the family piloting ships. Our great grandfather is listed as a "Chambel" Pilot. He was a seaman so he may have been involved in guiding vessels into Rosslare Harbor. I cannot find a definition for the word "Chambel" in any dictionary and I won't speculate. Both Walter and Margaret were late vocations to the married state it would appear. The eldest child Mary Ellen, our great aunt "Allie", was born when Margaret would have been 36 years and she had 3 more children, all girls, with the youngest, Great Aunt Elizabeth (Beths), being born when her mother was 43 years old. The two eldest daughters are listed as "commercial clerks" in the 1911 census while the two youngest worked as Drapery Assistants. Back then adult children remained in the parents home until they got married.
Shortly after I was born "Granny" Kehoe would have paid us a visit to our rented home on the Rathgar Road in Dublin to help her daughter. I have no memory of this visit of course but know about it since she told me later that I looked like "a little sausage". This probably referred to the fact that I weighed scarcely 4 lbs at birth.
I vividly recall a train trip taken around 1948 accompanied by my mother, my sister Anne and probably my younger sister Geraldine. My brothers John and Eddie had yet to bestride the world stage. We departed from the old Harcourt Street Railway Station in Dublin on a Wexford bound train. No doubt we were jumping out of our skins with the excitement of it all, this being I'm pretty sure our first time on a train. We were off to see "Granny" and the Great Aunts. On reflection this would be a good name for a rock group but I digress. We had breakfast on the train in the dining car full of tables replete with white linen table cloths, good chinaware and silverware. None of your paper plates, plastic cutlery or styrofoam beverage containers in the good old days. We had as I recall the full Irish breakfast of rashers, eggs, and pork sausages. The trip took a while since the train stopped at every station on the way but this did not dampen our enthusiasm because of the sheer novelty of it all. The excitement was palpable as we pulled into Wexford Station with a clear view of the Irish Sea.
At that time my grandmother lived above the shop at 16 North Main Street where my mother had been born. After my grandfather John F. Kehoe passed away , his youngest son, our Uncle Pádraig, took over the business and lived above the shop with his mother. He would later marry Lily Doran who I recall as an Audrey Hepburn look-alike in her younger days. My grandfather had built a successful drapery, retail shoe, and auctioneering business during his lifetime. Unfortunately after he departed this mortal coil the business went downhill due no doubt to the travails of the postwar Irish economy. Jobs were scarce and the only option for many was to take the boat to England, America or Australia. Indeed after the business on 16 North Main Street in Wexford went south,Uncle Pádraig and his family departed for Albion's shores like many an Irish family during these hard economic times. This would mean that "Granny" Kehoe would come to live with us for long periods of time and I can tell you this gladdened our hearts even if we had to share her with my mother's siblings and their families in England from time to time. Apart from Uncle Pádraig who lived in Wexford during our visit, my mother's only sister, my godmother Aunt Kay, and her husband Dan Guilfoyle owned and operated a grocery store in Stafford, England. Another sibling my Uncle Wally and his family lived in Cheshire, England where he worked as a quantity surveyor. Only my mother and Uncle Gerald, a civil engineer with Kerry County Council, remained in Ireland out of the five living siblings. Sadly they are all gone now but remain in our memories.
However returning to our visit to Wexford,at which time I would have been a 3 or 4 year old, I find it curious that I have no recollection of the return train trip to Dublin. Us children were no doubt doted on by "Granny" and the grand aunts . It was exciting to be living above the store,albeit for a wee while, and I recall racing down the stairs to see the customers coming in and out to make purchases. My grandmother helped out in the business. Wexford was originally a Viking settlement like many Irish towns and cities with narrow streets and passageways from the Main Street leading down to the harbor. My grandmother's description of Wexford was "narrow streets and proud people". Nearby was a Franciscan Friary where my mother, who had a lovely voice, sang solo at times in the Church attached to the Friary. The Friars would ring the bells when they ran out of food, the Franciscans being one of the mendicant orders. People would leave their houses and bring them food . As a quid pro quo the good Friars administered to the people's spiritual needs. They had a great influence on my mother's family and Uncle Ger at one time felt he had a vocation to become a Franciscan and was enrolled as a boarder in the Franciscan preparatory college at Multyfarnham in County Westmeath. He subsequently discerned that life as a friar was not for him.
The Bullring , in Wexford Town, which my grandmother mentioned in some of her tales. The statue depicts a pikeman from the 1798 United Irishmen rebellion against the English oppressor.
At that time my grandmother lived above the shop at 16 North Main Street where my mother had been born. After my grandfather John F. Kehoe passed away , his youngest son, our Uncle Pádraig, took over the business and lived above the shop with his mother. He would later marry Lily Doran who I recall as an Audrey Hepburn look-alike in her younger days. My grandfather had built a successful drapery, retail shoe, and auctioneering business during his lifetime. Unfortunately after he departed this mortal coil the business went downhill due no doubt to the travails of the postwar Irish economy. Jobs were scarce and the only option for many was to take the boat to England, America or Australia. Indeed after the business on 16 North Main Street in Wexford went south,Uncle Pádraig and his family departed for Albion's shores like many an Irish family during these hard economic times. This would mean that "Granny" Kehoe would come to live with us for long periods of time and I can tell you this gladdened our hearts even if we had to share her with my mother's siblings and their families in England from time to time. Apart from Uncle Pádraig who lived in Wexford during our visit, my mother's only sister, my godmother Aunt Kay, and her husband Dan Guilfoyle owned and operated a grocery store in Stafford, England. Another sibling my Uncle Wally and his family lived in Cheshire, England where he worked as a quantity surveyor. Only my mother and Uncle Gerald, a civil engineer with Kerry County Council, remained in Ireland out of the five living siblings. Sadly they are all gone now but remain in our memories.
However returning to our visit to Wexford,at which time I would have been a 3 or 4 year old, I find it curious that I have no recollection of the return train trip to Dublin. Us children were no doubt doted on by "Granny" and the grand aunts . It was exciting to be living above the store,albeit for a wee while, and I recall racing down the stairs to see the customers coming in and out to make purchases. My grandmother helped out in the business. Wexford was originally a Viking settlement like many Irish towns and cities with narrow streets and passageways from the Main Street leading down to the harbor. My grandmother's description of Wexford was "narrow streets and proud people". Nearby was a Franciscan Friary where my mother, who had a lovely voice, sang solo at times in the Church attached to the Friary. The Friars would ring the bells when they ran out of food, the Franciscans being one of the mendicant orders. People would leave their houses and bring them food . As a quid pro quo the good Friars administered to the people's spiritual needs. They had a great influence on my mother's family and Uncle Ger at one time felt he had a vocation to become a Franciscan and was enrolled as a boarder in the Franciscan preparatory college at Multyfarnham in County Westmeath. He subsequently discerned that life as a friar was not for him.
The Bullring , in Wexford Town, which my grandmother mentioned in some of her tales. The statue depicts a pikeman from the 1798 United Irishmen rebellion against the English oppressor.
All the while I knew my grandmother she was plagued with severe rheumatoid arthritis and ambulated with the aid of two walking sticks, one in each crippled hand. She was a great example of patience in adversity and I don't recall her ever bewailing her lot. She set an example for her grandchildren when they were beset with various maladies as adults . My eldest sister Anne inherited, unfortunately, the same rheumatoid arthritic condition from "Granny" but she too acquired the same patience and acceptance in adversity. When "Granny" came to us on one of her extended visits she had to ascend the stairs to get to her bedroom. She was able, as I recall, to make it down the stairs under her own steam albeit it on a festina lente basis but she needed help to get up the stairs. As I was the eldest it was often my task to help her. She would assume a sitting position near the bottom of the stairs and I would place my arms under her arms near the shoulder and scootch her up stair by stair until we reached the top. All the time she would be extolling my strength with words like "You are so strong, Pierce" and I would be bursting my shirt buttons with pride. I would have been maybe 12 years old at the time. She spent a lot of the time praying her Rosary and would also join us in frequently said family Rosaries. A priest would often visit to bring her the Holy Eucharist and to chat with her. No doubt, like the rest of us, she had her human failings but I am certain she is in Heaven with her deceased loved ones having spent 99 years in this vale of tears , much of the time in physical pain, and being a big and a joyous part of our lives. She would have lived through the 1916 Easter Rising, the subsequent War of Independence, and the Civil War of 1922-1923. She did speak about seeing the notorious "Black and Tans" in Wexford, a British "terrorist" outfit who perpetrated many atrocities in Ireland including burning the town of Balbriggan, County Dublin, to the ground and killing civilians. She would have sided with the Anti-treaty side during the Civil War judging by her fondness for De Valera or "Dev" as she referred to him. "Up Dev" she would opine which probably got my father's goat as he was a devotee of Fine Gael, the political successors of the Pro-Treaty side during the Irish Civil War. Later on I found out that David Kent, a surviving brother of the patriot Thomas Kent was strongly Anti-Treaty and I disagreed with my father's position. Not that I was a fan of De Valera who broke with Sinn Fein and entered the Dáil (Parliament) as the leader of a "slightly constitutional party" called Fianna Fail(Soldiers of Destiny). David Kent did the right thing and refused to surrender his principles. I have nothing but admiration for this man. At that time neither politics nor politicians would have been important to us children. The priorities for the boys would have been Roy Rogers, Hopalong Cassidy or Davy Crockett and other heroes of the Wild West. Anne and Geraldine would have had their interests too. Common to us all was an enthusiasm for our grandmother's ghost stories. We all went to bed at the same time and kept the bedroom doors open so we could shout out "Granny, tell us a ghost story!". The stories would raise the hairs on our heads but we enjoyed the thrill of a good ghostly tale. Some of them had a surprise ending. One tale involved her husband John F. Kehoe as a young lad walking home to the family farm from Wexford at night. Darkness was falling as he set out on the trek home. After a while he heard the clanking of chains behind him. Even though he was scared to look around he did so and saw two red eyes glowing in the dark. He started to run but the bearer of the chains behind him kept pace with him. When he would stop the sound of chains would stop and when he commenced his journey the clanking of chains would start up again. Exhausted he eventually reached the farm kitchen door and ran in. Behind him was a billy goat with a chain around it's neck. Apparently the old goat had broken his tether and had followed my grandfather for miles. After the scary part of the story we children had a good laugh. Another story involved a dying man, a Protestant rack renter of a landlord, and one of my grandmother's relatives who was looking after him as he awaited the grim reaper . I remember being told of clanking chains and "Old Nick" coming for a soul. Scary stuff indeed. Yes my Grandmother Kehoe presented us with many good memories. One is reminded of one of Thomas Moore's melodies taught to me in school by the inimitable Father Seán Hutchinson S.J., who conducted the choir at my preparatory school in Dublin:
"Oft in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken,
The eyes that shone
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
"Oft in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken,
The eyes that shone
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me"
To this day the only tune I know by heart on the piano in my one fingered style is a little bit of Dave Brubeck's Take Five and I have my grandmother to thank for that. She loved her County Wexford and it's heroes of 1798: Father Murphy of Vinegar Hill and Kelly the Boy from Killane. When she lived with us the great Wexford hurling team which won the McCarthy Cup in 1955 and 1956 were in their halcyon days. Some of our and "Granny's" heroes were hurlers like the Rackard brothers, Padge Kehoe, Ned Wheeler, Nick O'Donnell and Art Foley who starred in that mighty Wexford team.The record attendance for an All Ireland Hurling final involved Cork and Wexford in 1954 when a crowd of just under 85,000 came to Croke Park for the game which saw the legendary Christy Ring win an 8th All Ireland medal as he lead Cork to a narrow win. I am sure my paternal grandfather Pierce Kent, a native of Fermoy, Co. Cork, was happy with the outcome even if my Wexford grandmother was not. "Granny" had a playful nature and when we egged her on she would half remove her false teeth with her tongue and make an eerie sound. We got a thrill out of this.
When we were living in Dundrum, in the foothills of the Dublin Mountains(really an extension of the Wicklow chain) our grandmother was on one of her extended visits. One day a colorful character we had dubbed the "Blah Blah man" was on his rounds as a door to door peddler of knick knacks such as combs, hair clips and the like. The "Blah Blah man" had a penchant for muttering loudly to himself and hence his nickname. My mother could see him from the front window approaching the house and being short of change hid under the stairs hoping the peddler would move on. Getting no answer the "Blah Blah man" went around to the back door and peered in the window. "Granny" Kehoe was ensconced in the kitchen reading the newspaper and the kettle was steaming on the stove. The peddler knocked on the window but "Granny" ignored him and continued with her reading probably because she was petrified. The "Blah Blah man " departed and went into to see our neighbor Haddie Enright remarking in his thick brogue that "the young wan was out and the ould geezer was sitting in a chair with the kittle staymin and staymin away" . Later my mother and Haddie had a great laugh about it.
Agnes R. Kehoe, our "granny", had a long life and retained her sharpness to the end. As a new arrival on the shores of Amerikay I was pleased to receive a letter from her full of news and good wishes. Unfortunately the letter is not in my possession and I reget that fact. I have nothing but fond memories of a woman who had lived through turbulent times in Ireland, suffered from painful rheumatoid arthritis for much of her life, helped raise a good family and through all the vicissitudes of her earthly life retained a strong faith in God and a good sense of humor.
Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam dilis.(May her faithful soul rest on God's right hand)
