Saturday, November 15, 2008
Award Winning Author, Daniel Cassidy, dies at 65.
I am VERY saddened by the death of Daniel Cassidy. Though I did not always agree with him personally and politically, I had an IMMENSE admiration for his thought-provoking intellect, charisma, and the love he had for his working class and irish roots. I had the fortune to work with him at New College of California where he taught in the Irish Studies Program. Whenever we talked, he would always give me some little bit of interesting history on the Irish. He knew that my ancestry included multiple roots in Ireland. Danny was a bit of a hot head, but what else could you expect from an Irish American New Yorker and, honestly, often, it was part of his charm. He was a straight shooter. I can still hear him talking loudly to me with his brooklyn accent (which had softened over the years) about some inane political issue going on at New College, with his hands moving, hitting my arm when he wanted to make his point, and engaging me with his unrefined honesty. I WILL MISS HIM.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Mary Dugan Thompson-my great grandmother
Okay. I've never blogged, but I am going to give it a try.
On Sunday, I found my great grandmother's obituary online ...She has been a mystery to me...But fortunately I LOVE mysteries (I knew my fascination with Nancy Drew as a kid would come in handy). I have been trying to find any information on her...mostly HOPING to find a photo of her.
The basic story goes like this: my maternal grandfather, Samuel Morgan Dugan was born out of wedlock on April 18, 1903 to Miss Margaret Dugan of Bessemer, Fayette County, Pennsylvania. Although my grandfather never met his father, he knew his name and was sure to write it down on his Social Security Application: Charles Alfred Workman.
Of course, this was a different time and era and, needless to say, when she married, my great grandmother left my grandfather (at the age of 7) with her brother, Lewis Marion Dugan. I cannot quite imagine the immensity of my grandpa's pain of feeling "rejected" and abandoned by his mother. She went on to have other children with her husband. Sammie probably lived between families, not really belonging to any.
But the one thing that has come up again and again about the Dugans: They are survivors and fighters-all of them-maybe it's the irish in them. I am proud that my grandfather was able to pass this name down to my mother. He started picking coal when he was about 7 years old...only had a third grade education, and read the NY Times every day...According to my Aunt Margaret, in his younger days, he was always telling jokes and making people laugh. It's hard to think of him that way because when I knew him life has stripped him of his energy. He would sit in his chair and watch TV all day...My sisters and I would come in, run to my grandmother and sit on her lap, and then, give my grandfather a more reserved hug. He would give us shiny new silver dollars or half dollars (side note: Years later, my sisters and I ended up with a large coffee can full of silver dollars. We would "steal" from it to buy small things for ourselves until it was gone...I wish we had at least one of those silver dollars).
So, back to the obituary...it doesn't say how she died...it doesn't mention any names (except her husband's name) only the number of children and grandchildren, which, of course, does not include my grandfather, my aunt, or my mom ...It doesn't mention where the funeral will be held or where she will be buried. What's funny is that now I feel a tiny tiny tiny piece of what my grandfather must have felt...when explaining to peoplewho I am related to through the Dugan Family, I feel like I don't know exactly what to say about his mother...I don't think people really doubt me...it's just that there aren't the "usual" familial structures in place that make my grandfather's parental heritage real. Instead, loss, invisibility, rejection, shame, and survival take the place of his parental heritage.
Somehow, I think that by "finding" a photo, an obituary, any piece of information on his mother and father, I am giving him back the parents he deserved. And that by doing that, I heal the pain passed from him to my mother and on to me (and my sisters)...That somehow I can restore his legacy...But what I must remember is that it is through the pain he endured, that he passed down, that holds the most fruitful of all gifts: I am a granddaughter of a boy who was born out of wedlock, born out of ghosts, and born out of survivors....
On Sunday, I found my great grandmother's obituary online ...She has been a mystery to me...But fortunately I LOVE mysteries (I knew my fascination with Nancy Drew as a kid would come in handy). I have been trying to find any information on her...mostly HOPING to find a photo of her.
The basic story goes like this: my maternal grandfather, Samuel Morgan Dugan was born out of wedlock on April 18, 1903 to Miss Margaret Dugan of Bessemer, Fayette County, Pennsylvania. Although my grandfather never met his father, he knew his name and was sure to write it down on his Social Security Application: Charles Alfred Workman.
Of course, this was a different time and era and, needless to say, when she married, my great grandmother left my grandfather (at the age of 7) with her brother, Lewis Marion Dugan. I cannot quite imagine the immensity of my grandpa's pain of feeling "rejected" and abandoned by his mother. She went on to have other children with her husband. Sammie probably lived between families, not really belonging to any.
But the one thing that has come up again and again about the Dugans: They are survivors and fighters-all of them-maybe it's the irish in them. I am proud that my grandfather was able to pass this name down to my mother. He started picking coal when he was about 7 years old...only had a third grade education, and read the NY Times every day...According to my Aunt Margaret, in his younger days, he was always telling jokes and making people laugh. It's hard to think of him that way because when I knew him life has stripped him of his energy. He would sit in his chair and watch TV all day...My sisters and I would come in, run to my grandmother and sit on her lap, and then, give my grandfather a more reserved hug. He would give us shiny new silver dollars or half dollars (side note: Years later, my sisters and I ended up with a large coffee can full of silver dollars. We would "steal" from it to buy small things for ourselves until it was gone...I wish we had at least one of those silver dollars).
So, back to the obituary...it doesn't say how she died...it doesn't mention any names (except her husband's name) only the number of children and grandchildren, which, of course, does not include my grandfather, my aunt, or my mom ...It doesn't mention where the funeral will be held or where she will be buried. What's funny is that now I feel a tiny tiny tiny piece of what my grandfather must have felt...when explaining to peoplewho I am related to through the Dugan Family, I feel like I don't know exactly what to say about his mother...I don't think people really doubt me...it's just that there aren't the "usual" familial structures in place that make my grandfather's parental heritage real. Instead, loss, invisibility, rejection, shame, and survival take the place of his parental heritage.
Somehow, I think that by "finding" a photo, an obituary, any piece of information on his mother and father, I am giving him back the parents he deserved. And that by doing that, I heal the pain passed from him to my mother and on to me (and my sisters)...That somehow I can restore his legacy...But what I must remember is that it is through the pain he endured, that he passed down, that holds the most fruitful of all gifts: I am a granddaughter of a boy who was born out of wedlock, born out of ghosts, and born out of survivors....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
