Cousin Gerry had told me to go see his uncle Paddy O’Halloran on Inishbofin Island. Paddy had all the family stories and could really spin a great Irish yarn. But he was getting up there in years, fading, so I’d better not wait. The next day, a beautiful autumn morning, I took the ferry to the island, and found directions to Fawnmore, the road up the hill to the school. I spied a cottage with a big anchor in the yard, an elderly man sitting next to it, a fisherman’s skipper’s cap on his head.
No one can tell a story the way you do, Mary, except maybe your relatives and ancestors. Blessings on the memory men of the Cleggan Disaster and their families on this All Hallow's Eve.
I don't think I have any Irish ancestors, but I've always felt Irish in some way. This story, somehow, makes me feel even more Irish! Thank you Mary. This is just wonderful.
Mary, this is beautifully haunting or hauntingly beautiful. The pictures are stunning. More! More! More!
Perfect tale for the day.
No one can tell a story the way you do, Mary, except maybe your relatives and ancestors. Blessings on the memory men of the Cleggan Disaster and their families on this All Hallow's Eve.
What a sad, sad story. Thank you for your wonderful storytelling.
Captivating! Thanks, Mary.
Fantastic storytelling.
I don't think I have any Irish ancestors, but I've always felt Irish in some way. This story, somehow, makes me feel even more Irish! Thank you Mary. This is just wonderful.
Re bingo, that sounds like the American version—fools!
Yes, I love your stories of Ireland!
Are you ready for winter?