It was a "soft", chilly March day years ago when my then-20-something daughter, Quinn, and I left the Abbey House Bed and Breakfast for the short journey across the highway to the Jerpoint Abbey ruins in Kilkenny.  (To the Irish, a "soft" day means it isn't raining cats and dogs---just puppies and kittens.)  We planned a quick stop at Jerpoint, then a drive up to Dublin for the remainder of our stay in Ireland.  Celtic tigers were still roaring and you could feel energy in the air.

We had experienced highs and lows so far in our family search in Kilkenny city and county.  I was on the hunt for my Blanchfields, an old Norman Irish family whose founding father had come over with Strongbow in the late 13th century.  A visit with Mary Flood at the Kilkenny Heritage Center, Rothe House, had been fruitful...Mary was able to get us back a generation using church records.  She found the 1821 marriage of my 3rd great grandfather and grandmother, James Blanchfield and Ellen Carroll.  She was also able to supply the names and baptismal dates of all of their children.  And, she had their residences, also.  This was huge, as records of Catholic marriages and births weren't kept by the government in Ireland until 1864.  One of James' and Ellen's children was my immigrant ancestor, John Blanchfield, who died of measles in boot camp in Iowa during the US Civil War.  The rest of the family, as far as I know, stayed in Ireland.

Another high had been attending Saturday evening mass at the church in Graiguenamanagh where Ellen and James had been married on that long ago January day in 1821. Although some renovations had been made to the old Duiske Abbey church, the walls were the same walls that sheltered my ancestors as they walked down the aisle to the altar.

Prior to that evening mass, we had had extra time as we were early, so we passed the time in a pub accross the street from the old church.  Hearing the name "Blanchfield", doors opened.  We were accepted as if we were long lost friends of the family.  On man told us, "the Blanchfields are only in Kilkenny" and talked about going to school with Blanchfields.

When we had booked our stay at the Abbey House, a lovely B & B in a great rural setting, we had done so becuse Helen Blanchfield was the proprietor.  We had hoped that her husband, James, would prove to be a cousin.  However, those hopes were dashed; James (who Quinn and I called "Cousin James", but not to his face) did not think that there was any close connection.

Leaving the Bed and Breakfast that day, we were no longer thinking about the Blanchfields; we were looking forward to a more modern Dublin weekend.  So, it was with considerable surprise that we saw "Cousin James",  followed by three cats, running across the highway after us.  We watched concernedly as the cats dodged traffic, but all made it.  "Cousin James" told us that we had to see one of their most famous tombs, that of Isabel Blanchfield, who was married to a Butler, the Earl of Ormonde's family.  He thought that we knew about it, that that was why we were stopping at Jerpoin.  We, of course, had never heard of Isabel, or of her husband, or of the tomb.  "Cousin James" then insisted on introducing us to the nice ladies in the bookshop who promised him that they would give us a complete tour, including the tomb in question.  Then, he and the cats dashed back across the highway.

We braved the chilly damp looking around the ruin which had been a Cistercian Monastery built in the 12th century.  We learned from our enthusiastic guides that the Abbey is known for its carved figures on its tombstones.  It would have been worth visiting even if we had not been alerted to a possible family tomb.

When shown Isabel's tomb, the hair stood up on the back of my neck.  Even my skeptical daughter later admitted to feeling awed.  The date on the tomb: 1492!

If not for "Cousin James" and the cats, we would have missed one of the highlights of our trip.

But, that was the East of Ireland, not the "Wild West".  As all four of my grandparents had Irish roots, even though I am 5th generation Irish American, there are other areas of Ireland awaiting exploration, the North and the West especially.

In the West, I want to look for my Egans.  It took me a very long time to find the Iowa tombstone that finally told me that their roots were in County Mayo.  The Egans, an old Gaelic Brehon family, are one of those families that are all over the place in Ireland.  And Donegal...I would love to see the homeland of my weaver 2nd great grandfather, James Bradley, and his wife, Ellen, who braved the trip to America during the famine years, winding up on an Iowa farm.

And the North...I want to see the town of Carrickfergus and its castle where one of my immigrant ancestors once walked.  And, Belfast.  And, Derry.  Surely, it will require several more trips.  Oh, well, I can make that sacrifice!  Potatoes, cooked any way, have always been my favorite "side." 

Below:  Quinn in the graveyard of the Duiske Abbey RC church in Kilkenny and with her Irish Setter at home.

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