Deep seeded value and tradition from Quilty

Quilty, a little village of County Clare Ireland, though seemingly insignificant, has shaped my family and continues to persist in me. In my previous post, I examined Ireland’s relationship with the potato and its historical relation to the global exploitative system. In this essay I would like to further analyze the relationship of persistent past by poking into the current generations of my family. Our Irish attributes are not so much a function of ethnicity, but rather more based in shared experience. This analysis won’t only serve for my family, but will extend to the generational experience.

Noreen Calinan, my Nana, is no exception to the generalization Connell’s analysis makes. She grew up in the family subsistence farm community he describes. Though she did not grow up in the famine times, she felt the echoes of the aftermath. Se ate potatoes growing up and we still eat potatoes almost every family dinner. She admits that she was ‘dirt poor’ and lived in a paralleled community that could almost be described as a mutualistic extended family. They bonded over struggles, rotated Sunday suppers, gathered firewood and chatted over trips to the market. This close knit community was not bounded by the region’s parameters but was similarly developed in moving to the States. My mother describes growing up in small and predominantly immigrant neighborhood founded on more than similar struggles and driven by purpose. Even though from different ethnicities, they all shared in experience of the insistent hardships of earning a living. The neighborhood had immigrated due to the prospects of opportunity and was hitting the ground running. They did not fearlessly make the move for personal achievement, but rather out of need to support their family. This foundation is also a reflection of how much value family holds. Noreen’s father died of Leukemia so when she was 17 she took a job as a nanny and sent her money over to keep the Calinan farm running. She fearlessly paving the way for improving future prospects for both her family in Ireland and the one she created in her new found family in the States.

The immigrant community not only shared the same work ethic, it also was a driving factor as to why my parents met. My father was also a first generation American who lived in a similar community in a neighboring town. Because neither my mother’s or father’s family could afford any higher education, they both attended a technical high school and worked diligently in their respective trades while holding side jobs until they graduated. When they met, they related easily to one another through their work ethic and belief in opportunity. This is also shared and continues to persist in my life, being a first generation college student. We will always be working to the very best of our ability in hopes of opportunity.

My Nana has brought many tall tales and tradition into my family as well. Whether it be taking a vow of silence on Holy Saturday, spreading out a huge feast for St. Patrick’s Day or attending midnight mass on Christmas Eve, Catholicism is very much a part of my parent’s identity as well as my own. We marry into it and are brought up firmly in the church. However, Catholicism is not just an expression of faith, it tends to carry tradition with it. For instance, we usually end gatherings in the 8 bar measure of the accordion not just a celebration of holiday, but serving mostly to pass on our dancing culture. For as long as I can remember, we have always danced; twirling the night away until we topple over. It was so familiar that when asked to take step dance lessons, it seemed what was most natural to me. Across the three generations, we have danced in feises and can still manage a jig even though we no longer dance competitively. We also have kept out costume dresses together to pass down as a part of our family story and tradition.

We also tend to have a unique story telling component in our family gatherings as well. Usually we end up laughing about past events and funny stories. Some of which involve the crazy tales my Nana tells about Ireland and resemble its folklore. Just one of the many examples is the story of the dirty water on Halloween. It has long been warned on Hallows Eve, we should wash our feet in small tubs and toss the dirty water over each shoulder and out the window to prevent the devil from entering our home. These silly stories also bring with them superstitions such as the belief placing new shoes on a table brings bad fortune upon you. I also will never wash my hands under the same sink, at the same time as another person. These folklore stories are more than just silly but a part of our culture.

Each of these traditions have not only shaped me, but will continue to shape generations to come; they all stem from little Quilty. I traveled with little Noreen on the shoeless route to school, saw the cliff landscape, felt the warmth of the small farming community, prayed with hopeful reverence in the church, even danced round the sands with her. It’s not only her ‘home’; it’s where I came from and who I am today.  By subtly instilling values and traditions in our family, Quilty will forever remain an integral part of our heritage.