Ye'll be Doin' it Yerself, Then.

In 1912, my Grandfather did a very dumb thing.  He was a shoemaker in the city, and he decided that he was sick of it and wanted to farm.  So he bought a small farm in the town where I now live, though it wasn't the house where I live now.  What was so dumb about that?  You see, he did it without consulting my Grandmother.  The first she heard of it was when he told her that they were moving.

I remember my Grandmother well, because she lived with us when I was a child.  She was a bit of a spitfire even then.  And, back in 1912, she was, apparently, not one to be ordered around.  "Why sure," says she.  "I'll go to the country with you.  But, you're going to have to do all of the moving by yourself, because I'll be takin' the boys back to Ireland for a long visit while you're doin' it."  And, yes, to her dying day she carried just a bit of an Irish accent, just a faint lilt, at times, but I remember the music of it as she read to me.

So, off she, and my Uncle and Father went to Ireland, to Ballydehob and Skibbereen, where her family still lived.  My Dad was nine, and he had a grand time on the ship both coming and going.  He was the only one who didn't get seasick, and, while Grandmother and my Uncle were trapped in the cabin, in misery, he had the run of the ship.

They spent the summer in Ireland, and Dad often talked about how beautiful and green it was.  I think that it remained a bright time in his memory, for his whole life.  In the fall, they sailed back to New York, and took up residence in their new home, where Dad made himself right at home, with his new pet crow and cow.  But, those adventures are for another time.

They brought this little bowl back with them,  and it still remains, sitting on the what-not, where my Grandmother had placed it prominently, to remind Grandfather that she was a partner in their marriage, not someone to be ordered around.