Memories

Memories containing the words .

Jane McParland Poland

29 January 2017

RECORDING A MEMORY
Browsing your site brought back some fond memories. Holidays spent in Carlingford. My father was Brendan McParland son of John and Elizabeth Elmore McParland. My grandmother was a native of Carlingford and that’s why my father loved to go there. My father never drove but he bought a caravan and had it towed to the North Commons and with the permission of a man my father knew (I think it was John Francis O’Hagan) the caravan was parked at the start of the ‘Old Road’ down into Carlingford and from then on our weekends and summer holidays were spent at the Caravan. I recall climbing a mountain with my parents and three brothers; my father carrying a tin of white paint to a place on the mountain that he referred to as the ‘White Mans Face’ his purpose was to freshen the paint on the face. My father was a seaman and a great storyteller he told us children that ‘the face on the mountain was a land mark for ships at sea’ .I would love to know has anyone else a name for this land mark and how it came to be there? My Uncle Jim Mc Parland wrote a poem about the North Commons which he said was inspired by a visit to my father’s caravan on the North Commons.
Jane Mc Parland Poland

THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD
By Jim Mc Parland
There’s a place called the Commons that I used to know
It over looks Carlingford Bay.
Where often in childhood down there I did go
And those memories are with me to stay.
The Burn where we sailed our wee boats is now dry
It’s overgrown, ruined and wild.
And oft I go back to those scenes long gone by
I first saw through the eyes of a child.

I climbed Slieve Foy Mountain and walked by the streams
I watched the trout leap in the pool
And often I thought, but it was just idle dreams
That I hated to go back to school.
When School days were over, down there I would go
To that place that is rugged and wild.
Back to the scenes that I knew long ago
I first saw through the eyes of a child.

Those days have all past now, the old folk are gone
And new folk have come there to stay.
It was there that I first heard the lark sing at dawn
To greet every new summer day.
It was there in the evening the curlew would call
From the mountain so rugged and wild.
In that place called the Commons, the best spot of all
I first saw through the eyes of a child.
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Kevin Woods

29 January 2017

Serving Mass in 1953
In 1953 I became an alter boy. It wasn’t easy. I think there was more to it then than there is now. All the prayers and responses were in Latin .It was difficult enough to learn Irish at school. My memory of learning the Irish language is that it required the teacher to beat the living daylights out of me for me to progress. Is it any wonder that my love for it didn’t mature until about 50 years later.

Latin came to me a lot easier. I wasn’t required to learn nouns, verbs, pro-nouns, and adjectives, just a series of words and sounds in response to the priest who for the most part of the Mass had his back to me. The great morning finally came. I left Ghan House on my bike at 7.25am arriving into the sacristy 10 minutes later.I was quickly shown the ropes by a senior server who’s name escapes me. The surplices and cassocks hung on hooks on the side of the wall. I was quickly fitted out. The cassock was a close enough fit although it could have tripped me if I didn’t take care. The surplice was something else. I think it must have belonged to a visiting Parish priest. In today’s parlance it definitely could not be called “Designer wear” for it enveloped me in a sea of white with lace trimmings around the ankles.
We lit the candles, put the lights on, filled the cruets with water and wine and with 10 minutes to go I heard for the first time, the crunch, crunch, of the steps of Fr Mc Donald on the gravelled path that led to the sacristy door. “Goood Moooorning boys” –“Good morning father”.-”Is Evvvvrything ready”- Yes Father” – “Gooood, Gooood”.and so began the ritual of preparation by him as he dressed in his vestments. With his back to us he kissed the stole before placing it over his neck and with the chalice and paten covered with the pall, he covered all with the chalice veil, and we were ready to lead out on to the alter. One to the left of him, and one to the right of him.

“In noooominee Patris”, he began. As we blessed ourselves .Our first response came with “Ad Deum,que laetificat juventutem meam”.It was a breeze, no problems so far. We came to the “Confiteor”- now that was a horse of a different colour when it came to Latin. It was said along with the priest, who for the most part knew what he was talking about. The wonderful thing about the “Confiteor” from a 9 year old servers point of view was that it was said with utter humility. This meant that while kneeling, the further you got into the prayer the lower you bowed your body, nearly to a point where you were prostrate on the alter steps. The priest on the other hand was also bowed but he was standing and couldn’t get as low as you were.The real benefit of this was that he couldn’t hear what you were saying, so for the most part I just mumbled along –very fast. I became an expert at Mass over the years, till the introduction of the changes in Vatican two at being able to spot those who had mastered Latin from the level of their bodies during the “Confiteor”

“Dominus Vobiscum” The Lord be with you. If memory serves me right the two best performers of this prayer were Fr Ross O Reilly and Fr Mc Kevitt from the Back Lane. May God be good to both of them, now gone to their Eternal Reward. The priest in the Latin Mass faced the alter when celebrating and not the congregation. At several points in the Mass he was required to turn and face us with his arms outstretched saying the words “Dominus Vobiscum” I’m not sure whether they started the words before they turned but the speed at which they did would leave you breathless. If you were serving their Mass and you got to close, you could have had your head cut off by the tail of a swinging chasuble.

I have so many other memories of this time that I could relate, and indeed probable will in the future but its time to end tonight. At the end of the day
they were happy times and the grounding that I got from cradle till now has stood me in good stead.
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Jim McCourt

29 January 2017

To many to mention the Woods family the Finnegans @MckevitsMore > (0 comments)

Jason Rushworth

29 January 2017

My Grandmother was Mary Marley from North Commons. We stayed in Carlingford often when I was a child. Happy memories.More > (0 comments)

Aubrey Martin

29 January 2017

One of the Riverstown Martin's, when just a young fella in the early 70's I used to gather mushrooms in the "White" fields at Jenkinstown with my great Uncle Tom !
Also went out with Ownie Rankin on so many Saturdays Mackerel Fishing off his boat!
Also herded cattle for Larry G to the Ravensdale abattoir for 2s a day!
What fantastic memories from then!More > (0 comments)