My Dad's baptism - (Centre: Grandma Mary holding my Dad; Left :My Grandpa Thomas, Aunty Mary and Uncle Jim with their neighbours)
There’s only six more sleeps ‘til Christmas as I head down Lower Gardiner Street, Dublin.
Hurrying through light drizzle, I dodge people and puddles to reach the payphone. The dialing display is smashed. I lift the receiver. No dial tone. The call uniting this Aussie lass with her Irish family has been thwarted. And by reckless vandals.
I trudge on umbrella-less in the rain, turning left down Talbot Street. Another pay phone. I reach for my little green notebook. This notebook fat-full of pages is ready to be filled but as I prepare to call, I sense that the few scribbled details beginning my search, may also signify the end…
Researching my Irish ancestry began in the genealogy department of the National Library of Ireland. Located on the second level was the free genealogy advisory service. I had little information to start with, just my grandparent’s names and dates of birth. The genealogist handed me a leaflet on ‘getting started’ and explained that many Irish records had been lost or destroyed due to pilfering, fires or Civil War. It did not look promising. For the dates I was working with he recommended I continue my investigations at the Irish Life Centre.
Here the research facility at the General Register Office holds all civil birth, marriage and death records from 1864 to 1921. I searched the indexed volumes, scanning pages of the large, red hardbound books. I felt that if nothing else, leafing through those old, fragile books and researching amongst my fellow family-history enthusiasts was excitement enough for my trip. I located my grandparent’s birth records and purchased photocopies. I wanted to obtain their marriage certificate but did not have a date. The assistant advised that if I presumed they were married young, around twenty as many couples were at that time, then I could search records within a five year time frame. I looked through the huge, heavy volumes while he ran a search through the online database. He found a match and I purchased their marriage record.
My grandpa Thomas had died before I was born and my grandma Mary died when I was two. Having no memories of either of them I had just carried the knowledge that at some point my Dad’s parents had emigrated from Ireland to Australia. Standing there with those certificates in hand I knew more about their lives then I had for the past 27 years.
My next step was to find the church where they married. I thought it would be great to get a photo – Dad would love that. The assistant photocopied a Dublin map, traced the directions and highlighted the church.
My grandparents addresses were recorded when they registered to marry. We checked to see if they were still residential. Mary’s address was listed as Arbour Hill Barracks which was now part of the National Museum. Thomas’s Dublin address however was still residential. “Now let’s see if they have a public phone listing” I heard the assistant say as I struggled to keep up with how quickly my search was moving. He checked the Dublin Directory and turned the phone book around to face me. I read the name where his finger rested on the page: Joan Kinsella. I jotted down her number.
It had all happened so quickly, so easily. I was living a movie cliché – young backpacker locates long-lost Irish connections a week before Christmas – and then he smiled the words “it looks like you might have some relatives to spend Christmas with”.
She picks up. “Hi, my name is Rebecca Kinsella and I’m over from Austra…” “Who?” an older lady hard of hearing bellows back as my words trail off. Mustering courage I begin again. “Who is it?” she repeats quizzically. I attempt a third time, regretting the call and wondering why I got myself into this imbroglio with a random-stranger in Dublin. I’m confusing her and desperately I blurt out “you’re living in my grandpa’s house, so I thought we might be related?”
The phone is passed around. I speak to her son Jacko and daughter Pat. I confirm names and dates, panicky I might not know enough. I speak to her again. She falls quiet. In her silence I sense some recognition of my story. Slowly she asks in a lowered voice “’Was Mary your nanny?”
I tell her she was. I don’t know how we’re related but I’m convinced by the certainty in her voice.
“‘Well it’s a funny story” she says “… two sisters married two brothers. Your nanny Mary was my sister and I married your grandpa’s brother James”.
So there I was speaking to my Great Aunt Joan. At 85 years of age with 10 kids, 36 grand kids and 37 great grand kids. My Dad described it as “hitting the genealogy jackpot”. The news travelled fast and the next day I met Aunt Joan and many Irish cousins all huddled into the front room of my grandpa’s house in Terenure, Dublin. Dad made his first overseas trip to Ireland, with my Aunty for a family reunion. They met over 50 of their cousins and their aunties for the very first time.
Great Aunt Joan
Sometimes it’s hard to comprehend just how huge this experience has been – to process the enormity of locating my relatives in Ireland and the impact this has had on my family at home in Australia. As my Dad said “I knew about it but I just didn’t feel it was real”. Our families have connected through sharing photos, telling stories, laughter and singing – asking questions, recalling memories and exploring our past together.
So, how do YOU go about tracing your Irish Ancestry? Here are 5 quick tips to get you started:
1. Chat with relatives: gathering names, dates and stories from the start will save research time
2. Spell-check: consider variations/nicknames or mistakes in recorded names and dates
3. Hunt for hints at home: photos, letters, certificates, diaries, bibles, scrapbooks and heirlooms
4. Explore all resources: online, genealogy services, libraries, books, groups and workshops
5. Travel to trace: visit the areas your ancestors lived and worked. Talk to the locals
Researching your family history can lead to exciting, rewarding and unexpected experiences. Travelling to Ireland and finding my family was the beginning of a strong connection with this country. I bonded with cousins I’d never known existed and learned who my grandparents were and how they lived. Exploring the homeland my ancestors left behind provided a personal link to the history of this country and its people. It is a sense of belonging shared with others who have traced their tribe and journeyed home to Ireland.
Ádh mór/ Good luck
My Irish Family
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See Discover Ireland for Information on planning your trip and tracing your ancestry
the distance to here 