Beginnings of my Irish Love
When I was a little girl I lived in a house lost out in the sand hills of Nebraska. The walls were made of plaster and lath, perfect for bees to make nests in and skunks to chase rabbits through. In the winter my dad tells the story of having to wear a hat to bed because it was so cold his head hurt. One morning they woke up and their hair was frozen to the wall from the steam of their breath. That room later became my bedroom…they put in a base board heater for my sister and I. My dad even built a bench over the heater so that I would have a window seat to watch the moon at night.
There was only one other heater in the house and early in the morning and late at night we would all crowd around it for warmth. My mom was anti tv. The TV was actually in an old one room school house across the yard so if you wanted to watch it you literally had to go outside, which drastically cut down on our tv time. For entertainment my mom would read to us or often we would sit with company late into the night telling stories. Sometimes my dad would break out an old journal that had been past down through the generations from Ireland. And we would look at the beautifully preserved water color pictures of our ancestors and hear the tale of how my brother got his name.
And so with the heat from the propane furnace blasting us kids the Tale of the O'Mulloy's and the O'Coote's would unfurl with all the magic that only my dad can weave with his storytelling. My brother Coote is proudly named Coote following a long line of tradition from way back in the days of Ireland when the O'Cootes and the O'Mulloys were feuding. Their feuding had been going on for generations. According to the history my dad dug through they were quite brutal as families. Love of course is what ended their feuding when their children decided to wed and a truce was drawn. The terms of the contract were that the First born male Mulloy would be named Coote and the first born Male Coote would be named Mulloy.
I am sure there were more details to the ending of the feud. I would love to know how they fell in love, how they told their families and how it all went down…but the ending of the story is that my family has carried on the tradition of Coote and now my brother has also named his son Coote. Someday I would love to meet a Mulloy Coote. But that has yet to happen! Even when I google it and Facebook it…I think their line must have forgotten somewhere through the ages. But we still carry on the name an with it the tale of the power of love to end wars and heal broken relationships and bring families together.
That is the first tale of love and romance I remember hearing, and loving to hear, time after time growing up. There are more tales, they may find their way upon this blog in the coming days because soon we will be going to Ireland, that magical land of my imagination, with my whole family …minus the grandkids. Who knows what love awaits in the coming days.
There was only one other heater in the house and early in the morning and late at night we would all crowd around it for warmth. My mom was anti tv. The TV was actually in an old one room school house across the yard so if you wanted to watch it you literally had to go outside, which drastically cut down on our tv time. For entertainment my mom would read to us or often we would sit with company late into the night telling stories. Sometimes my dad would break out an old journal that had been past down through the generations from Ireland. And we would look at the beautifully preserved water color pictures of our ancestors and hear the tale of how my brother got his name.
And so with the heat from the propane furnace blasting us kids the Tale of the O'Mulloy's and the O'Coote's would unfurl with all the magic that only my dad can weave with his storytelling. My brother Coote is proudly named Coote following a long line of tradition from way back in the days of Ireland when the O'Cootes and the O'Mulloys were feuding. Their feuding had been going on for generations. According to the history my dad dug through they were quite brutal as families. Love of course is what ended their feuding when their children decided to wed and a truce was drawn. The terms of the contract were that the First born male Mulloy would be named Coote and the first born Male Coote would be named Mulloy.
I am sure there were more details to the ending of the feud. I would love to know how they fell in love, how they told their families and how it all went down…but the ending of the story is that my family has carried on the tradition of Coote and now my brother has also named his son Coote. Someday I would love to meet a Mulloy Coote. But that has yet to happen! Even when I google it and Facebook it…I think their line must have forgotten somewhere through the ages. But we still carry on the name an with it the tale of the power of love to end wars and heal broken relationships and bring families together.
That is the first tale of love and romance I remember hearing, and loving to hear, time after time growing up. There are more tales, they may find their way upon this blog in the coming days because soon we will be going to Ireland, that magical land of my imagination, with my whole family …minus the grandkids. Who knows what love awaits in the coming days.
Now that's a lovely tale.
ReplyDeleteThanks! :-)
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