The Gallaghers of Ballinrobe
IN MARCH 2020, Pat Gallagher had an idea. He asked his brother, Owen, what he thought of writing a book about the family of their father, James Gallagher, who grew up in the early decades of the 20th century in the West of Ireland in the small town of Ballinrobe, County Mayo. The shutdown from COVID-19 was just beginning, and the thinking was they would have more time on their hands than usual. What better way to spend quarantine than exploring the stories of our aunts, uncles and other relatives. The task turned out to be much more complicated (and rewarding) than anticipated. It involved sifting through ship manifests, census, birth and marriage records, newspaper archives, and, most enjoyable, sessions delving into the memories of extended-family members. Sorely missed was the chance to hear first-hand the tales from our deceased cousins John O'Brien and Pete Gallagher. This book's stories and more than 500 images are the result of the past year's journey. The goal was both simple and ambitious: making the memories of the Gallaghers of Ballinrobe ours forever.
IN MARCH 2020, Pat Gallagher had an idea. He asked his brother, Owen, what he thought of writing a book about the family of their father, James Gallagher, who grew up in the early decades of the 20th century in the West of Ireland in the small town of Ballinrobe, County Mayo. The shutdown from COVID-19 was just beginning, and the thinking was they would have more time on their hands than usual. What better way to spend quarantine than exploring the stories of our aunts, uncles and other relatives.
The task turned out to be much more complicated (and rewarding) than anticipated. It involved sifting through ship manifests, census, birth and marriage records, newspaper archives, and, most enjoyable, sessions delving into the memories of extended-family members. Sorely missed was the chance to hear first-hand the tales from our deceased cousins John O'Brien and Pete Gallagher. This book's stories and more than 500 images are the result of the past year's journey. The goal was both simple and ambitious: making the memories of the Gallaghers of Ballinrobe ours forever.
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Uncle Tom is congratulated by Wilmington Postmaster Shirley McDonald upon
his retirement from the Post Office.
family knew from St. Paul’s. Father asked Tom if he
wanted to be anointed. Uncle Tom recalled that despite
saying to himself in his mind that he wanted to receive the
sacrament, he found his mouth telling Father that he did
not. Instead, Father gave Uncle Tom a blessing before he
was taken to the Emergency Room. Blessedly, Uncle Tom
would live for about another decade, offering plenty more
opportunities to receive sacramental grace.
Uncle Jim’s son Pat, who suffered a stroke
himself, offered some insight on Uncle Tom shaking his
head “no” to receiving the Sacrament of the Sick. When
Uncle Tom arrived at the hospital, he obviously would have
been worried and didn't really know what was going to
happen. “The only one that knows what is going to happen
is God,” Pat reflected. “I think the head-shaking is God’s
way of telling Uncle Tom it was not his time.”
A ROSARY STORY
Uncle Tom and Aunt Ann were long-time
members of St. Matthew’s Catholic Church on Maryland
Avenue, where they were close to a retired priest, the Rev.
William Klapps. The long-time U.S. Navy chaplain had
retired after a distinguished career with the rank of captain.
Uncle Tom apparently gave him a promotion, referring to
Father Klapp as “The Colonel,” or so we learned from the
priest who celebrated Tom's funeral Mass. That priest found
himself corrected during his sermon when he mentioned
that Uncle Tom and his brother Pat had both served in the
Army during World War II. Uncle Pete’s son, also Pete,
quickly pointed out that Uncle Pat had proudly served in
the Navy as a member of the Seabees. Among those present
for the funeral was cousin Eugene Gallagher, who still lives
in Cornaroya but for years made frequent trips to the U.S.
He served as an honorary pall bearer and led the recitation
of The Rosary at the viewing for Uncle Tom.
There is, of course, a story, with a touch of magic,
about how Eugene happened to be in America at the time.
Eugene first came to the U.S. around the start of the Korean
War and served in the military. Initially, Eugene and a
friend, Frank Hickey, were stationed in the U.S. at a base
where the two would sometimes serve Mass together.
Eventually Eugene got his orders to head to Korea, but
Frank was to stay stateside. As he was about to leave,
Eugene asked a favor. He handed his prayer book to his
friend with the request that if anything should happen to
Eugene, the man would get it to his mother in Ireland.
Fortunately, nothing bad happened to Eugene. But
he and his Army buddy fell out of touch for years, until
Frank Hickey took a long shot at reconnecting by placing a
notice in a Dublin newspaper. The ad said he had a prayer
book that belonged to an old friend, with the only
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