Two dreamers and their descendants meet on a bridge across time
(Editor’s note: This reflection is an excerpt from John Shaughnessy’s book, The Irish Way of Life: Stories of Family, Faith and Friendship.)
By John Shaughnessy
She kept looking to the west in the direction of America, as the ship surged across the Atlantic Ocean. Yet every once in a while, she glanced over her shoulder and remembered her parents’ reactions when she said goodbye to them in Ireland.
She could still feel her mother hugging her. She could still see the tears in her mom’s eyes. She could also feel her father’s big, rough hands squeezing her small hands as he fought back his own tears to tell her, “We love you.”
Part of her wanted to feel those hugs and those hands again, especially as a cold wind from the ocean whipped through her. But the boat roared ahead, taking 17-year-old Bridget McDonnell toward America, and the dreams and adventures she hoped to have.
On a different boat, at a different time, a young man kept his focus on America, too. At 16, Jack Shaughnessy had no reason to look back to Ireland. He also had no one who wished he would return to its rocky shores one day. He was an orphan whose parents died when he was 5, a young man who struggled, scraped and fought for the little he had in this world. So he boarded a ship bound for the United States, desperately hoping to find a job, a future and a new life.
The two youths never set eyes on each other as they grew up on different coasts in Ireland. Yet when Jack saw Bridget for the first time at a party in America, he couldn’t stop looking at her. They married and started a new life together, beginning a family whose roots would grow, thrive and continue beyond what they ever expected.
So it is with most families. Our families’ histories are filled with journeys that lead us to places we have always dreamed of, and to destinations we never imagined. Our families’ histories overflow with the tales of people who followed dreams, took risks and endured sacrifices while trying to make their mark in the world. Our families’ histories are also touched with efforts to remember and honor those who came before us.
More than 25 years ago, my siblings and cousins made sure the names of our grandparents were etched on the American Immigrant Wall of Honor at Ellis Island in New York Harbor. Seeing their names there for the first time—during a long-ago visit with my wife and our then-young children—brought back their images to me. I thought about the journeys my grandparents had made, and the lives they had shaped. What affected me just as much were my children’s reactions at the Wall of Honor.
Like many parents, my wife and I tried to teach our children an appreciation of family. Like many parents, we sometimes wondered whether that message had reached them. Yet, on that day, they went searching for the names of their great-grandparents—two people they had never met. And when they found their names, they bowed to touch them. They even asked to have their pictures taken there as the waters of New York Harbor lapped in the background.
It was a humbling experience watching my children as I remembered my grandparents. The bridge between generations had been made, the bonds between Ireland and America had been tightened. While the currents of history connected us for one afternoon, the currents of family connected us forever. †
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