"When you come from a long tradition of storytellers, (Seanachai), it is very
difficult to avoid being a writer. Stories just inhabit your head demanding telling.
Every Irish person is a storyteller, it is in our DNA."
All About Me
Anne Donaldson nee Hogan is the youngest of twelve children. She was born and reared on a farm in Ballyfin, County Laois in Ireland in the very same house as her grandaunt Maria, Anna’s mother. She now lives near Ballincollig, in Cork, Ireland. She has been closely related to the early development of this still expanding town that has always welcomed people from all over the world. A 19c British Military town with an internationally acclaimed gunpowder mills, the town has welcomed ‘outsiders’ for more than two centuries.
Anne has researched and compiled a comprehensive list of the names of those who served in the British Military at Ballincollig. This compilation can be accessed online through the Representative Church Body’s reference library. Her research of the British Military Graveyard, Ballincollig was published in 2003. In conjunction with Jenny Webb and Nonsuch publishers, she published A Hidden History of the Ballincollig Gunpowder Mills, in 2006. She is a regular contributor to local history journals. An article she researched on the Robinson Settlers in Ontario tweaked her interest in emigration. Her lifelong interest in local heritage and history led her to attain an M. Phil on the subject of The Irish County Gaol system.
An active member of her local writing group, Litwrits Ballincollig, she has published a selection of short stories. Through membership of her local library, she is a member of their book club.
She is an experienced amateur genealogist.
Anne is now a grandmother to a selection of gloriously opinionated and kind young people. She lives with her husband, Frank, overlooking the River Lee.
She has no animals anymore, that is unless you count our neighbors’ cats who patrol daily.
My HP Books
A FAMILY STORY OF LOVE, LIFE, AND EMIGRATION
Anna is the last lonely American survivor of a large and loving family. Anna
discovers, amongst her mother’s papers, letters that had travelled from Ireland. She recorded
her family’s pioneering story for posterity, discovering family secrets along the way.
It is a story of emigration.
But it also highlights the power of strong single women and the life challenges they face.
Anna, all alone, tells her story to her beloved dog, Patta.
The family dogs were an example of the companionship, and usefulness of caring dogs.
Their dogs reared and protected little Alice, William and in later years Maria when she
was in her dotage.
The loneliness those early emigrants endured is explored. The importance of
community support shows its face from those first few days on the Atlantic. For the first
time they encounter cultural differences, finding ways to communicate with each other
and benefit from each other’s support.
Comments received to date include–an extraordinary and intriguing story, I loved it
even if it made me cry, but it made me laugh too. Professionally researched it gives a
wonderful picture of the hardships endured by those brave emigrants. Loved the dog
stories. Very relaxing and interesting. Thank you, Anne, for the insightful detail that
allows you to feel that you are part of the story. A clever book that seems like a simple book but is not.
Book Excerpt
1835
The young, pretty, and vivacious Alice walks hesitantly up the church aisle linking her father’s arm. They reach the altar. An old grey-haired balding man dressed in his Sunday-best, awaits. The bride and groom’s eyes meet for the very first time. William’s eyes light up as Alice drops her gaze in disgust. “I’ll not marry that grey-haired old man,” she scowls at her father. “It’s too late now to back out now my love. You'd break your mother's heart. She has all your wonderful wedding presents on display in our parlor, and a massively impressive feast ready for the guests. The deal is done, and the dowry paid. I can’t ask for it back. Jilt a man at the altar and you’ll be an ‘old maid in the garret,’ forever dependent on your brother’s wife. Your twenty years old now after all,” he argued.
Sensing trouble, the matchmaker creeps out from his hiding place at the back of the church. This small little sparrow of a man hops up the side aisle. He sidles up beside the father of the bride. He intervenes, “I’ll expect the balance of my fee whatever happens,” he quietly but threateningly reminds him. It is not in his interest to have a wedding called off at the last minute, and in public as well. The debate continues between the bride and her father as the matchmaker looks on carefully. William, the groom, watches worriedly from the periphery of this debate. He decides to stay silent and stay outside this conversation.
The guests twist their necks to strain their ears towards the argument. Two young cousins bet a tanner coin that the wedding will be called off. That is until their mothers catch them and give them a clip around the ear. Finally, a downcast Alice obeys her father and reluctantly joins her future husband at the altar rail. The groom releases a sigh of relief as the priest intones, “Introibo ad altare Dei.” Mass begins and the marriage is celebrated.
The wedding party leave the church and travel to nearby Cloncarten, Alice's family home. Her heart is surely broken. The celebration, if that’s what it is, continues at her homeplace. The wedding meal eaten, the whiskey drunk and the music dying out, the newlyweds are escorted upstairs to the marital bed. The guests shout and roar their encouragement from under the couple’s window. They only scatter when the candlelight disappears, and the window is in darkness. Next morning the couple appear downstairs for their first real breakfast as man and wife. The older women check that their sheets are stained red with virginal blood. Everyone is happy that the consummation of the marriage is proven. Everyone, that is, except Alice. It will take twenty-five years before she feels truly happy again.
....
...
1900
Summer picnics spent supposedly picking raspberries or cherries or whatever was in season, filled our happy Sunday afternoons. The young men came to protect us from wild animals such as bears or wild cats, or, God forbid, from the snakes that the Irish were terrified of. That, at least, is what we told our parents. A big plus to a pioneering town was that our mothers could be easily fooled about the great dangers abounding in the surrounding woods, and the necessity for protection by strong young men.
Sizzling summer picnics with lemonade and cakes raised cries of, “Be careful! Watch out for mosquitoes, ticks, and wild animals!” Another summer warning that we regularly received was, “Drink plenty, but make sure you don’t take it in big gulps. Be sure to sip it and swirl it around your tongue!” Apparently, gulping people were known to die suddenly from such foolhardiness. Getting sunburn on the back of your neck was the height of foolishness, as it practically guaranteed sunstroke and even death. Swimming after food was totally forbidden. “Leave half an hour,” the mothers warned. But we swam out bravely into the chilly waters of our beloved Little Bay de Noc at Sandpoint, unaware of life’s future responsibilities.
I so loved that beach with its sounds, its smells, its freedom. The nervous shrieks and happy squeals of half-frightened, half-excited beachgoers mixed with the squawking of gulls blowing through the air. Oh! the freedom to run about in the sunshine unencumbered by the matching hats and gloves us women were usually expected to wear. Even the grown-ups let their hair down a little on the sunny beach, removing their shoes and socks. The men rolled up their trousers to their knees, while the women bundled up their long dresses as they paddled their feet in the crashing edge of the waves, rolling their toes in the squidgy sand.
In the winter, when Little Bay de Noc froze over, we took out our skates and twirled and laughed until our sides ached. I was the fastest skater and could beat any of the boys in a race. The constant parental warnings of the dangers that abounded rang in our ears. “Be careful, the ice isn’t hard yet,” or “it’s spiky.” In springtime, “be careful, the ice is melting,” was their constant worry. We ignored them and enjoyed our youthful ways.
Maria and Dan, accompanied by an excited Shep often walked that beach arm in arm on a sunny Sunday afternoon. They would look across massive Lake Michigan and continue to be amazed at the big skies and how far away they could see. Tinged with a sense of regret, they would tease each other gently.
“Do you think our old Slieve Bloom Mountains are anywhere over there?” Dan often asked nostalgically, as they looked east across the lake.
“Wouldn’t you miss the fluffy clouds skitting across the sky, or a soft summer shower throwing diamonds on the grass?” Maria answered.
“If we were back in auld Ireland now, we could take a run over to the Catholes, where we often splashed our tired feet under that waterfall and ran through the wet grass.” Dan added.
“Ah let’s wait ‘til Frochain Sunday in August,” Maria might suggest, adding that, “maybe a few of the cousins would be up there on the mountain picking the purple fruit of the frochain, or courting in the soft heather.”
“Will we ever see old Ireland again?” they’d sometimes add as they held tightly to each other’s hands, their fingers entwined.
Book Reviews
5.0 out of 5 stars A Sweeping Tale
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on June 2, 2024
Despite the fact that the story takes place over a long period of time the writer expertly and concisely writes the story in only 172 pages or so. It has a gentle pace and never rushes through any details, allowing you to get swept along in this story of mixed feelings. It's sad sometimes, happy others but always charming and emotional. It's the kind of book that you would pick up on a miserable Sunday with a glass of wine (or tea depending on your tastes) as it's easy and comfortable to read, leaving you feel uplifted at the end, despite the challenges the characters face. A genuine pleasure to read. You'll regret it if you don't read it.
*****
5.0 out of 5 stars Some reviews received privately
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on April 18, 2024
I have received comments from around the world on my book. Thank you everyone. Easy reading but with depth and great research; it made me cry; it made me laugh; couldn't put it down; helped me understand emigration issues better; loved the dog characters and how they supported a challenged family; thought the women were strong single women who faced up to life's challenges; not too Irish American more international.
Enjoy the read. Great holiday read too. Anne
