Ghost Stories.

Slow days passing
How distant they are
The things of the past.
Buson

The dream of many is that life will complete itself in a signficant pattern.  Mother's stories reveal a continuing pattern in my immediate ancestor's lives which occur in my life and hopefully in my children's. James Murphy and Elizabeth McGovern Murphy left from a farming Donegal and settled in Kilmarnick, Scotland around 1850 during the Potato Famine.  Here their children were born. In mother's handwriting in our Bible I found their names and dates of birth- John 1855, Patrick 1863, Kate 1865, Bernard 1867,  James 1869, Mary (mother) 1872. It puzzled me that eight years elapsed before Patrick was born, not a normal situation in Roman Catholic homes. In the city Grandmother had a shop selling scones. They probably lived in this building. My grandfather was killed in a mine accident before Mother's birth but life goes on. Their home was situated on a busy street in the city. (Mother's word one of the worst in the city). Mother here knew life at its lowest and as a result as she got older had compassion and understanding for all types of people and what they did to survive. She always told me that living in Roscoe I knew little about the real world. In all her stories, the fatalism, mysticism and the customs of Ireland, the beloved isle, were evident.

"Precious rites and customs of our ancient ancestors faded away slowly in Ireland but some lingered on." Brian De Breffney

Pest Houses described by Dickens around the middle of the century were part of life in cities then.  Kate, Mother's sister stricken with scarlet fever, was taken immediately to a so called hospital. A saddened girl (Mother) haunted the area around this building to get a glimpse of her sister, to no avail. When she came home, all her hair had fallen out but it grew again, a halo of dark curls surrounding a face of arresting beauty. The Doughertys have the picture taken after her illness.  Tragic events do not singly come.

Another tragic event struck when James Murphy became ill and after a lingering illness died. He was an intelligent boy did well in school.  How difficult for the family to watch his deterioration. Today with medical advances he could have lived. His ailment might have been rheumatic fever because later Mother was stricken with it preventing her from going to school for one year (fifth grade). Fatalism lingers on.

At this time schools in Kilmarnock were superior to many in the outlying districts. The Parochial the Murphys attended was advanced from a curricular standpoint but lacking in a humanistic approach. Regimentation and religious aspect was evident. Mother said the Priest came in every day and as he entered the pupils rose repeating "Good Morning, Father". Discipline was strick, no dissension allowed. It surprised me that music was part of the curriculum. From Mother's words, I visualized the Music Master leading the class with his baton or using it to inflict punishment on some hapless offender. Here in such a rigid climate were indoctrinated in such a biased fashion that the Roman Catholic Church was the only true one and all others were not. This led to hatred and bitterness with their Scotch neighbors. In another school related incident, Mother's brother Bernard scored highest in the year's testing program but the award was given to another student. In many cases Priests can be dishonest and often try to get into the good graces of someone who is wealthy and has political influence. Such was the father of the boy who received the award. Grandma Murphy refused to accept this action. She confronted the Priest, demanding an explanation. Irish are fighters who dare to challenge those in authority and try to make changes based upon the truth. Naturally, she did not make much difference in the attitude of the Priest but was satisfied that she had stood up against dishonesty.

Folk tales of Ireland, incidents unchanged for centuries are the literature of the people, full of stories about ghosts, fairies, witches and leprechauns. My father told us many stories which I thought were not true, could never happen. Some of their customs were scary. It was puzzling to me how these immediate ancestors who had lived in Scotland practically all their lives were attached to the Isle, and know so much about the land, so immersed in the old Irish stories, loving the Old Sod. Superstitious beliefs appeared factual to them. One made an indelible imprint on me. First footing on New Year's Eve--they eagerly awaited the first person who stepped into their home for the first time.  Pray that it might be a dark haired young man who would bring them luck all year.  Woe to the family into whose home a red haired woman entered first - bad luck all year. So embedded in my mind is this belief that even today I have some anxiety about the first-footer. These beliefs are widespread. Any event in their lives had a mystical significance.

From the History of McManus and Murphy Families. Undated.