Another first spotted at Killiney Cemetery in Castlegregory, Co. Kerry.
I cannot recall before seeing a headstone in the shape of a pillow – caused me to stop for a while and smile.
Sleep well, Timmy O’Connor
Using signs, advertisements and messages as the inspiration for observation and comment - enlightened and otherwise
Another first spotted at Killiney Cemetery in Castlegregory, Co. Kerry. I cannot recall before seeing a headstone in the shape of a pillow – caused me to stop for a while and smile. Sleep well, Timmy O’Connor
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Having spent our holidays on the Dingle peninsula over the past years, we are well used to the Irish summer weather. We have had to have distractions and other activities for the not-so-great days. Collecting sea glass and making art pieces has been a form of entertainment. Another has been Stone Art – where stones collected on the beach (on a marginally better day) are then painted. This summer, in both Kilshannig and Killiney Cemeteries, near Castlegregory, I noted painted stones. It appears that the weather may not be restricted to the summer months and others have some mindfulness with StoneArt. A selection of images of the painted stones: I do not think that many consider the purpose of a headstone is to bring a smile – it looks like Josephine Deane held the minority view, thankfully. KIlshannig Cemetery must have one of the best aspects of any graveyard that I have visited and Jospehine’s headstone occupies prime real estate. So the visitor gets a smile and a view. In Killiney Cemetery in Castlegregory, it took me a few seconds to spot the headstone. At first I just saw grass and the bush.
The oval shaped stone was then spotted. It could easily be a stone from the neighbouring beaches, repurposed to accommodate the essential information of name and date – Rita Donnellan, 27 – 11 – 1986. I like this on so many fronts – using materials that are near to hand, and free; the understated nature; the fact that someone thought of this 33 years ago; and, the skill of carving on a carving on a curve. ‘It wasn’t that I was ungrateful to America because America had been good to me, and still is, but even the very bird prefers the area where it was hatched’ Last July, heading for a weekend on the Dingle peninsula, I detoured at Cordal and took time-out, a few minutes of me-time in Kilmurry Cemetery. There, for the first time, I met with John O’Donoghue who had died 35 years earlier, about the time that I was receiving my Leaving Certificate results.
I have seen many nicknames on headstones on my rambles through cemeteries. The term ‘The Yank’ struck. Maybe it was because I had not long finished the book by another returned Yank, Tomás Ó Cinnéide. Maybe it sparked a memory of the tales told of Kruger. As possibly the only returned emigrant in the area, use of ‘John O’Donoghue’ was likely to cause confusion in the area, whereas there was, most likely, just one ‘Yank’. This morning, I spotted a tweet about a recently released book by Sinéad Moynihan on the ‘Returned Yank’ that will probably be requested of my local library in the near future. It brought back that minute on two standing with John O’Donoghue on a lovely quiet Kerry morning. “My dearest Mother, I take this opportunity of writing to you to let you know the dreadful news, that I am to be shot on Tuesday morning, the 1st of November. What harm, it is all for Ireland. I am not afraid to die, but it thinking of you I am. That is all: if you will be happy on earth I will be happy in Heaven. I am ready to meet my doom. The priest is with me when needed so you need not worry over me… I am the only one of 62 of us to be put out of this World, but I am ready to die” The day after Kevin Barry was executed, James Daly met a similar fate. Growing up I would have learned of Kevin Barry, the former Belvedere student who was due to sit an exam as part of his U.C.D. Medical Studies but participated in an I.R.A. attack, was captured, court-martialled and hanged. Years ago, I would have heard the song sung by Paul Robeson, Leonard Cohen and others. It was much more recently that I learned of James Daly. He was a member of the Connaught Rangers who refused to soldier when they heard of the treatment of Irish men and women at the hands of the Black & Tans. Patrick McGrath, a colleague of his from India, lies in Castlehyde Cemetery. His headstone prompted my reading of the Indian Mutiny. James Daly led a group of the Connaught Rangers in an attempt to regain their guns which they had handed over. Two soldiers died. As leader, James Daly was court-martialled and executed. Last month, I had to travel from Dublin to Roscommon so I availed of the opportunity to travel the old main road west and make a visit to Tyrellspass and leave one of my stones on the grave of James Daly.
Today, I was reminded of my one-time challenge to self to become overweight. In checking the internet for this particular rambling, it seems that the term ‘morbidly obese’ has appeared to have changed, or been dumbed down, to Obese II or even ‘very obese’. Even (most of ) the websites of the weight loss clinics have dispensed with ‘morbidly’ in favour of ‘extremely obese’, or just ‘obese’. In April 2005, my visit to I.C.U. did prompt a desire to become, just, overweight. ‘Morbidly’ does carry some import and effect. As with many good intentions, that lasted a while and in the intervening period, I have moved closer to ‘morbidly obese’ than overweight. Maybe putting this in words may act as an incentive. Today, a spare hour around Ennis before heading to Thomond Park brought me to Kilraghtis Cemetery where I encountered a few things never met before. Before I even got to the cemetery, I was attacked. To open the gate to the track to the cemetery, I had to disturb some bees, or maybe wasps, that appeared to have taken up residence in the hole used to accommodate the gate lock. One of them head-butted me on my neck but no sting – strange. Exiting, I climbed the gate – lesson learned. Within the cemetery, I learned of the diet of rabbit and pike of George Marlborough – such a diet and such a cause of death I had never seen on a headstone before. Driving back, I wondered how long it had been since I stood on weighing scales – this ostrich preferring not to know how close the classification of ‘morbidly obese’ is becoming. It would be great to say that that was a second lesson learned – it would be, but….
Quite a few blog posts hereabouts have been accompanied by the expression that ‘it is a bad day when one does not learn something new’. Last week, I learned something completely new. Upto then, I would have thought that it could not have been true. It was so ‘not a bad day’. Those of you who regularly pass by these pages are probably aware of my interest in Commonwealth War Graves – the inscriptions; the dates; the distances travelled; the alias; the location; and, the neighbours in the graveyard.
I had understood that such headstones were erected to those who had died in the World Wars or slightly after as a consequence of action in a World War. This is an expression not exclusive to the Republican side – as I would have thought.
I approached this graveyard memorial from the back. It was definitely interesting looking, demanding further inspection. It did not disappoint. Often the word ‘Erected’ can be seen engraved on headstones. The unique style of this memorial did suggest that Daniel Courtney himself both made and erected the memorial to his wife and son. The Irish harp and the dates around 1916 added to intrigue. This was another from my visit to Kilmurry Cemetery in Passage West that went on the TO FIND OUT MORE list – surviving there for only a very short while, compliments of the internet. The 1901 census confirms that Daniel Courtney was a blacksmith and lived with his wife, Kate, and his 4 year old son, James in 95 Hibernian Buildings in Cork city, an area known as Jewtown. The 1911 Census still has the three in the same house but records that there was a second child, who no longer survived. To me, that only adds to the power and symbolism of the memorial. The census records the son as James – so like Thomas Curtin, the name was changed to the Irish version. The website, History of Na Fianna Éireann, has a photograph of Seamus Courtney who was born in 1897; who became Officer Commanding of Na Fianna in Munster in 1915; who spent three months in Cork Gaol in 1917; who was co-opted by Tómas MacCurtain and Terence MacSwiney onto Battalion Council of Irish Volunteers; and, who died at his aunt’s house in Ballymacelligott in 1918. The Bureau of Military History witness statement of Commandant P.J. Murphy records that the funeral of Seamus Courtney in Passage West involved firing three volleys of shots, the first time since Easter 1916 that firearms were publicly used. Daniel Courtney died a few years later in 1921, shortly after the truce following the War of Independence. It is somewhat disappointing to this observer that his name is remembered in stone and not in the medium of metal with which he worked and with which, I presume, he himself remembered his own family with the pike, a symbol of Irish uprising for centuries; the harp of the Irish Volunteers and the sunburst of Fianna Eireann UPDATE 2018.10.29 Pauline Murphy had an article in The Cork Advertiser which provided more information on Seamus Courtney
Yet another headstone that intrigued with its story – a headstone that shouted out to be place on the TO FIND OUT MORE list. This headstone is located in Old Kilmurry Cemetery near Passage West. It is not my first blog post from my one visit – and will not be the last.
I did wonder when reading if ‘murder’ was only in the mind and opinion of the grieving brother who erected the headstone to Timothy Connell. The web quickly led to HistoryIreland which educated that Captain William Stewart did kill Timothy Connell and six others .
However, the court held it was not murder – ‘not guilty, having committed the act while labouring under mental derangement.” Captain James Gould Raynes, Francis Sullivan, John Keating, James Murley, James Cramer, William Swanson and stableman, Timothy Connell were bound and tied to the floor and attacked with crowbar and then an ax - but they were not legally murdered on board the Mary Russell. I think I am with Patrick Connell and his use of language. UPDATE – 2018.10.29 Thanks to Louvain Rees on Twitter, I read a very interesting article on the BBC News website on Murder Stones – headstones where the deceased has been murdered and the headstone contains details.
It makes reference to a book edited by Dr Jan Bondeson which featured a number of Murder Stones. I sense that this may make an appearance on my bookshelf at some stage….. To lose a child must be so so tough. Could you contemplate what it might be like to lose two children? Now contemplate three children dying. Now, if your three children died within 8 weeks….. Last Tuesday week brought me to Passage West to commiserate at a funeral. Emotions were still too raw to sit through the memorial service so I headed homeward on a road not travelled before. I spotted Old Kilmurry Cemetery which called out to offer a few minutes chill-out time.
It was the overwriting on R.I.P of the name Josephine Devereux which caused me to pause and read, but then I saw that six months before she died, her three children, Mary, Eddie & Frank all died within 8 weeks – aged for 4 to 6. It is now on my mental To Do List to investigate as to TB or other disease outbreak in 1943 that might have claimed four lives so quickly. In the meantime, it will remain on my brain as a story so so sad. It may be 75 years ago but that does not reduce the tragedy. ![]() My first visit to St. James Cemetery at Chetwynd was exactly one month ago. There will be regular visits from here out. I had seen a photograph of this headstone online but had to seek it out for my own eyes. There was so much to like
I remember Bernie Murphy as a sandwich board man or holding advertising signs around town – regularly throwing out comments at those daring to pass by. The Dunne Brothers were musicians who would be spotted on Patrick’s St or Princes St or when my grandfather brought me to matches down ‘The Park’ or the Mardyke. They first introduced me to the sound of the banjo. They and Bernie Murphy were thought by the younger me to be part of Cork that were always there and would always be there – the innocence of youth. I will be nodding towards Bernie on my regular visits – There You Are, Bernie Murphy….. |
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