My move in February forced me to deal with the overflowing contents of my basement. Many of the boxes that were stashed away contained items belonging to my mother, who now, at 85, lives is an assisted living facility. Mom is a saver. I went through box after box of old phone bills, insurance bills, even canceled checks from my brothers high school tuition drawn on a bank called the Chemical Corn Exchange Bank in 1958. I got rid of tons of old paper, but then the move happened so the rest of the stuff went on the truck. I was unpacking the last of the boxes the other day I came across an old, red lacquer box that I vaguely remember seeing as a child. When I looked inside, I found a folded up old paper with the words "Landed in America, March 17th, 1903" scrawled on the back. There was also the name of a ship, but I cannot make out the letters due to the childlike penmanship. I might be SS Invernis. Sail away with me.
I opened the paper up and found it to be the wedding certificate of my grandmother and grandfather on my father's side. They immigrated separately from Ireland at the turn of the century, and I'm not sure which one landed on St. Patrick's day, 104 years ago today. Each decaying paper held a piece of my history. I found out that my grandmother's first name was Hannorah, rather than the Nora that I knew, and she was born at 4 Fish Street in the City of Cork in 1879. Her mother's family were Sheehans. She had a sister named Mannie. An old receipt for a headstone told me that my grandfather John was 57 when he died in 1939. I never knew him.
I found Nora's Certificate of Naturalization. She became a citizen of the United States on November 29th, 1943, at the age of 64. Her photo is still attached, and shows her in her black maid's uniform. She worked as a hotel maid until the early 1950's.
John and Nora raised two good sons, both of whom served in World War 2. Their two sons had five children. Two boys for my uncle and three girls for my father. Three of those children had children, who are now scattered across the United States. But only I have the box that holds all that is left of these two immigrants, who sailed away from home, family and friends to make a new life in America a century ago.
They say everyone wants to be Irish on St.Patrick's Day. If that is true, then everyone in America is an immigrant today as well. Today I try to put myself in the shoes of those not lucky enough to be born here. The newcomers. The strangers in a strange land that want what John and Nora wanted. A better life.
Happy St. Patrick's Day to you all. Happy Immigrant's Day.