Kathleen Concannon Maloney's Posts - The Wild Geese2024-03-28T12:48:41ZKathleen Concannon Maloneyhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/KathleenConcannonMaloneyhttps://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/68532087?profile=RESIZE_48X48&width=48&height=48&crop=1%3A1https://thewildgeese.irish/profiles/blog/feed?user=2qwgv0v3m6y67&xn_auth=noI'm moving to Irelandtag:thewildgeese.irish,2015-03-15:6442157:BlogPost:1494342015-03-15T15:57:26.000ZKathleen Concannon Maloneyhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/KathleenConcannonMaloney
<p>A few days before St. Patrick's Day in 2003, I purchased a beautiful six-piece dessert set of fine bone china from a local shop. As the shop owner carefully packed it up, I read the bottom of one of the tea cups: "Royal Tara-fine bone china-made in Ireland."</p>
<p>I bought the set because it was gorgeous. But knowing it came from Ireland made it even more special to me. At the time, I'd never been to Ireland and my father, Edwin, who died in 2001, had never been to Ireland either. But he…</p>
<p>A few days before St. Patrick's Day in 2003, I purchased a beautiful six-piece dessert set of fine bone china from a local shop. As the shop owner carefully packed it up, I read the bottom of one of the tea cups: "Royal Tara-fine bone china-made in Ireland."</p>
<p>I bought the set because it was gorgeous. But knowing it came from Ireland made it even more special to me. At the time, I'd never been to Ireland and my father, Edwin, who died in 2001, had never been to Ireland either. But he was very proud of his Irish heritage and it always made me laugh how he began to speak with a brogue after a few drinks. I miss my father every day, but especially so on St. Patrick's Day.</p>
<p>It was a special day in our home in Guttenberg, Hudson County, while growing up. In the weeks leading up to St. Patrick's Day, my sister and I could always count on a shopping trip with him so we could purchase a new green outfit. He never missed an opportunity to share Irish history with us or celebrate our Irish heritage.</p>
<p>We often went to the St. Patrick's Day Parade in New York City and waited for the marchers representing County Leitrim to approach. He pointed to the banner and reminded us that Leitrim was the county where his mother's ancestors were from. He encouraged me to visit Ireland one day and go to the area where his mother's family lived. <a href="http://www.app.com/story/opinion/2015/02/27/trip-to-ireland-a-journey-of-discovery/24150697/" title="http://www.app.com/story/opinion/2015/02/27/trip-to-ireland-a-journey-of-discovery/24150697/">I did for the first time in 2013.</a></p>
<p>Soon, I will be going to Ireland again — permanently. I will be packing up my Royal Tara tea set and my other possessions and moving to a home I purchased last year in Aughavas, a small village in County Leitrim. Leitrim, which is located in the northwest part of the country, has dramatic hills, mountainous landscapes and several lakes and rivers. It's one of the most rural counties in Ireland, with a population of about 32,000.<br/><a href="http://www.app.com/story/opinion/columnists/2015/03/12/county-leitrim-st-patricks-day/70203502/">http://www.app.com/story/opinion/columnists/2015/03/12/county-leitrim-st-patricks-day/70203502/</a></p>
<p></p>My Favorite Childhood Memory and a Cruise to Alaskatag:thewildgeese.irish,2014-11-22:6442157:BlogPost:1288642014-11-22T01:30:00.000ZKathleen Concannon Maloneyhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/KathleenConcannonMaloney
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708198?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-left" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708198?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"></img></a> <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/story/travel/cruises/2014/11/14/alaska-cruise/19017993/" target="_blank"><br></br> <br></br></a></p>
<p><strong><span class="font-size-7" style="font-family: 'book antiqua', palatino;">G</span>rowing up in north Jersey</strong>, my father was a pro at finding inexpensive things to do in Manhattan and often took my sister, Eva and I there for an…</p>
<p><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708198?profile=original"><img width="750" class="align-left" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708198?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a><a href="http://www.usatoday.com/story/travel/cruises/2014/11/14/alaska-cruise/19017993/" target="_blank"><br/> <br/></a></p>
<p><strong><span class="font-size-7" style="font-family: 'book antiqua', palatino;">G</span>rowing up in north Jersey</strong>, my father was a pro at finding inexpensive things to do in Manhattan and often took my sister, Eva and I there for an adventure. We rode in his blue station wagon over The George Washington Bridge with our heads out the window while the wind blew our hair back as our father asked, “What adventure do you want to go on today?”</p>
<p>One of our favorite things to do was walk down to Boulevard East to see if there was a cruise ship in one of the ports in Manhattan. If there was, my father would take me and my sister on the bus into New York and we would walk to the port. As difficult as it is to believe today, back in 1970 you could purchase a ticket for a small fee to board a cruise ship and take a tour of the vessel before it set sail. They called it a Bon-Voyage Party. My hard working father would sit in the fancy bar and slowly drink his very expensive beer, while reading the newspaper as my sister and I set out to explore the cruise ship. We ran up and down the stairs passing the well-dressed passengers while pretending that we were looking for our rooms. We entered as many rooms as possible attempting to steal the chocolate candies which were left on the beds for the passengers who were sailing. My father told us to listen for the signal, and when we heard the bass horn blow and then the announcement, “All ashore that’s going ashore” we met him and then we would head down the gangway together. Back in the terminal, he would always buy us colorful streamers and line us up facing the well-dressed passengers who all seemed so excited to be going on their adventure. As the ship’s horn blew again and the boat would gently pull away, always having a sense of humor, my father would tell us to wave goodbye to the rich people. My sister and I would frantically wave goodbye to the passengers until we could no longer see them. We skipped back to my father’s old station wagon and he would tell us that maybe one day when we grew up we would be able to go on a cruise ship and not have to leave before the adventure began. My sister and I laughed at the thought.</p>
<p>Traveling has given me so much and enriched my life in so many ways. It’s the people who I’ve met that I remember most.</p>
<p>Once I was on a plane happy that the seat next to me was still available, which meant I would have more room to spread out. But then a man ran down the aisle just before the doors to the plane closed. He sat in that empty seat next to me and we spoke and truly got to know each other during that plane ride. We both had some pretty big things happening in our lives during that time and we freely gave each other advice, thinking that we would never see each other again. That was almost seven years ago and we are happily still friends. In Mexico two years ago, a worker from the hotel where I was staying confided her marital problems to me. I felt compelled to give her Steve Harvey’s book, “Act like a Lady, But Think like a Man” which I brought along to read. She was so taken with my enthusiasm as I told her about the whales I saw that day, she surprised me the next day and met me at the dock to join me on a whale watching trip. She lived in Mexico her whole life and never went to see the whales before. It was wonderful to see her laugh and enjoy herself that day.<br/> I got to know the owner of a B&B in Galway, a Frenchman, who insisted on riding with me to a ferry stop for a trip to The Aran Islands. During our ride and my stay there, we talked about our daughters, who are the same age and agreed that even though we live in different countries, the challenges of raising children are the same. </p>
<p>I recently went on a cruise to Alaska which was magnificent. I’ve always wanted to go to Alaska and I am so blessed that I was able to make that trip while I am young and healthy enough to enjoy it fully. My sister’s daughter and her family were able to join me. We saw so many animals: whales, bears, eagles, seals and otters; we met wonderful people who will long be remembered. We flew in a helicopter and landed on a glacier. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity that I’ll never forget.</p>
<p>My sister and father have passed on, but as the cruise ship pulled away from the terminal in Seattle that afternoon, I stood on the deck with a bittersweet smile thinking about the two little girls waving goodbye to the passengers alongside their adventurous father. I now understand the lessons he was teaching us and I appreciate the curiosity he instilled in me about other cultures. I know he would be smiling back and so pleased that I was able to <i>stay</i> on the ship this time and actually go on the adventure. And, he would agree, although I may not be rich financially, I <i>am</i> so rich in so many other ways.</p>
<p><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708273?profile=original"><img width="750" class="align-right" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708273?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708333?profile=original"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708333?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708289?profile=original"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708289?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708296?profile=original"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708296?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708360?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="750" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708360?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750" class="align-full"/></a><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708407?profile=original"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708407?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708300?profile=original"><img width="750" class="align-full" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84708300?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a></p>
<p><span class="font-size-1"><em>This article originally appeared in <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/story/travel/cruises/2014/11/14/alaska-cruise/19017993/" target="_blank">USA Today</a>.</em></span></p>
<p></p>The story-behind the story......this story ran in The Asbury Park Press on Sunday, July 6th, 2014tag:thewildgeese.irish,2014-07-08:6442157:BlogPost:1045032014-07-08T00:00:00.000ZKathleen Concannon Maloneyhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/KathleenConcannonMaloney
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84706912?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-right" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84706912?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"></img></a></p>
<p>By Shannon Mullen</p>
<p>They say redheads shouldn’t wear pink, but Kathy Maloney has never been the type to let the theys of this world tell her what she can and cannot do. That explains why, late one Saturday afternoon in 1980, an 18-year-old Maloney ducked into the Simco shoe store in downtown West New York, New Jersey determined to buy the hot pink boots that had…</p>
<p><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84706912?profile=original"><img width="750" class="align-right" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84706912?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a></p>
<p>By Shannon Mullen</p>
<p>They say redheads shouldn’t wear pink, but Kathy Maloney has never been the type to let the theys of this world tell her what she can and cannot do. That explains why, late one Saturday afternoon in 1980, an 18-year-old Maloney ducked into the Simco shoe store in downtown West New York, New Jersey determined to buy the hot pink boots that had caught her eye earlier in the day.</p>
<p>Her timing was terrible. She heard the door lock behind her, felt a gun at her back, and quickly deduced she’d just stumbled into an armed robbery.</p>
<p>Two well-dressed men led her to a back room and forced her to sit on the floor with a handful of other terrified customers and employees. Eventually, the robbers fled with a haul of cash and valuables.</p>
<p>You know you’ve had “an eventful life,” as Maloney describes it, when an experience like that hardly seems worth mentioning now. If someone were ever to make a movie based on Maloney’s life story, that scene might not even make the final cut.</p>
<p>There’s just so much other ground to cover: growing up with a suicidal mother, who’d habitually kiss her daughters goodbye in the morning, telling them she’d be dead when they came home from school; losing her sister to a fatal drug addiction, then waging an Erin Brockovich-like crusade to put the dentist who illegally provided her with painkiller prescriptions behind bars, and raising her sister’s orphaned daughter.</p>
<p>Then there’s her husband Joe’s tragic, eight-year battle with mental illness, which Maloney recently chronicled in <a href="http://www.app.com/story/opinion/2014/05/11/issue-life-with-joe-before-and-after-his-illness/8918199/">“Life with Joe,”</a> a story that quickly went viral after it was published in the Asbury Park Press May 11.</p>
<p>Since the story appeared, Maloney, an administrative assistant in the newspaper’s design studio, has been inundated with emails, notes and phone calls from as far away as Ireland, where she has relatives.</p>
<p>One of the emails came from a woman in Ireland who lost her son to suicide. “There are so many points in the article that I can relate to,” she wrote. “I think it is such a brave thing to share your experience, where I can’t approach it. I wish I could.”</p>
<p>Another woman called to share her own experiences with her brother, now a patient at Trenton Psychiatric Hospital. The two spoke for nearly an hour.</p>
<p>“I felt like I knew her. Even though this is my brother, not my husband, I felt her pain,” the woman said later.</p>
<p>“Life with Joe” has since been picked up by other Gannett Co. Inc. newspapers around the country, as well as <a href="http://www.thejournal.ie/readme/bipolar-ii-disorder-denial-mental-health-1467162-May2014/">The Journal</a>, an Irish news site similar to the Huffington Post. On the Press’ website, the story has generated more page views online than many staff writers garner after months of work — quite an achievement, considering that Maloney isn’t a member of the Press’ reporting staff.</p>
<p>Pete Earley, a former Washington Post reporter and best-selling author whose book, <a href="http://www.peteearley.com/books/crazy/">“Crazy: A Father’s Search Through America’s Mental Health Madness”</a> (Penguin Group, 2007), was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, said his own mental health-focused <a href="http://www.peteearley.com/blog/">blog</a> and Facebook page both exploded after he posted a version of Maloney’s story.</p>
<p>Maloney has “done something incredible,” Earley said, by humanizing an issue that rarely receives media attention unless there is a shooting or some other act of violence by a mentally ill person in the news.</p>
<p>The story — and the family snapshots that accompanied it — resonate with readers “because that’s not the normal face you see with mental illness,” he said.</p>
<p>“You’re like, ‘Wow, these could be my neighbors.’<TH>”</p>
<p>Maloney said she approached editors with the story idea to coincide with <a href="http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/may">Mental Health Awareness Month</a> in May. Since her husband’s death from cancer in 2011, she feels a passion to educate the public — and lawmakers, in particular — about how a disjointed mental health care system often leaves families like hers with a mentally ill loved one to fend for themselves.</p>
<p>“I knew it wasn’t right, what happened to Joe,” said Maloney, 52, of Howell.</p>
<p>In her case, her once gregarious, doting husband became increasingly erratic and verbally abusive following a devastating job loss. For years, Joe refused treatment for bipolar II disorder and the neck cancer that developed later and ultimately killed him. He was 52.</p>
<p>“Life with Joe” came on the heels of Maloney’s first foray onto the Press’ editorial pages in March, <a href="http://www.app.com/article/20140316/NJOPINION06/303160016">“My Journey of Discovery,”</a> about her quest to rediscover her family’s roots in rural Ireland. That story, too, generated heavy web traffic and a flood of emails. It has since been re-published in The Journal and the Irish Echo, the oldest Irish-American newspaper in the U.S.</p>
<p>“I have just finished reading about your recent experiences in Ireland,” read one email, from an admirer in Cork, Ireland, “and I am smiling within.”</p>
<p>The remarkable response Maloney has received begs the question: What’s next for her?</p>
<p><br/> <a href="http://www.app.com/story/opinion/2014/07/05/story-behind-story/12169073/" target="_blank">http://www.app.com/story/opinion/2014/07/05/story-behind-story/12169073/</a></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>Moving Past Grief and Finding Happiness Againtag:thewildgeese.irish,2014-07-05:6442157:BlogPost:1040582014-07-05T20:30:00.000ZKathleen Concannon Maloneyhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/KathleenConcannonMaloney
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font-size-3"><strong><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84706935?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-left" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84706935?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"></img></a> ... a trip to Ireland helped.</strong></span></p>
<div style="margin: 0px;"></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;"><p><strong><span class="font-size-7" style="font-family: 'book antiqua', palatino;">W</span>hen I decided to share the story</strong> about what my family went through while my husband was ill, “…</p>
</div>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span class="font-size-3"><strong><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84706935?profile=original"><img width="750" class="align-left" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84706935?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a>... a trip to Ireland helped.</strong></span></p>
<div style="margin: 0px;"></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;"><p><strong><span class="font-size-7" style="font-family: 'book antiqua', palatino;">W</span>hen I decided to share the story</strong> about what my family went through while my husband was ill, “<a href="http://thenewwildgeese.com/profiles/blogs/life-with-joe-before-and-after-his-illness" target="_self">Life with Joe, before and after his illness</a>,” I hoped it would help someone — maybe someone going through a similar situation. What I didn’t expect was how much writing that story would help me.</p>
<p>Working in a room filled with very experienced writers, many told me how cathartic the experience of writing that story about Joe’s battle with mental illness, and eventual losing battle with cancer, would be for me. I didn’t find that to be true at all. I rewrote the story four times, all during the month of April — a month where we would have celebrated Joe’s birthday and our wedding anniversary. As painful as the story was to write, I knew Joe’s story would touch people who have cared for a loved one suffering with a mental illness.</p>
<p>What I didn’t anticipate was the level of endearment extended toward me through the calls and emails I received. I really needed that. Coping with loss is a deeply personal experience. No one can help you go through it. However, at times, I didn’t feel my grief was acknowledged by extended family members. Often, I felt it was minimized and that my grief may have made them uncomfortable. And, I don’t mean just Joe’s death, but also the loss of his life — our life together during the last several years to a mental illness.</p>
<p>My phone rang on Tuesday afternoon after the story ran, and when I answered, a woman named Rose, 84, from South River, was filled with concern for me. She told me she tried reaching me all day.</p>
<p>She said with such sincerity, “I just wanted to hear your voice and know that you’re OK.” I assured her that I was, and was actually happy. “Are you sure?” she asked. I told her about my trip to Ireland and that I would mail her a copy of the article I wrote about it. I was deeply touched by her call, and after I hung the phone up, I thought about all of the things I wished I had shared with her. I thought about last year and how it was the best year of my life. I wished I told her that.</p>
<p>That night I sat down and wrote my response to Rose’s question asking if I was OK?</p>
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;"><blockquote><p>Dear Rose,</p>
<p>The first anniversary of a loved one’s death is always a milestone. And, the first anniversary of Joe’s death on New Year’s Eve 2012 was a horrible day for me. I promised myself when I woke up the next day, the start of a new year, I would be open to new things and attempt to move on, gain some control back and accept my new life.</p>
<p>I always dreamed of seeing humpback whales, so I booked a trip to Puerto Vallarta. The travel agent asked, “You’re going to Mexico alone? With no man?”</p>
<p>“I don’t need a man to take me to Mexico,” I responded. “I’m going to see the whales.”</p>
<p>Thinking I would relax on the beach during the day and sit in my room alone all night, I didn’t pack anything fancy to wear, and I brought several books and DVDs to keep me entertained. I’ll admit, arriving to the dinner party on the beach that night, I was slightly uncomfortable when the hostess kept repeating, “Uno?” Yes, “Uno.” She looked sad for me, but I said, “I’ll just sit with those people over there,” and I headed to a table with six other people.</p>
<p>I had fun that night, a party-type night, but I knew the next several nights’ dinners would be sitdown-style in their restaurants. That’s not something that a person alone might want to do, so I decided to try something new.</p>
<p>I saw a brochure advertising a sailing trip. Up to this point, Rose, I could always count on getting seasick, but I had never been on a sailboat before and I promised myself that I would try new things. I took a cab to the marina and booked a sunset sail. There were six couples along with me. When the captain of the boat, Carlos, saw that I was alone, he called over the two crew members and introduced them to me. He told me each of them would sit with me for an hour on the three-hour cruise.</p>
<p>For the first time in my life, I didn’t get seasick. In fact, I loved it, and when Carlos invited me back every night to sail as his guest, I went. I went whale watching every morning while I was there, and I saw 35 humpback whales in Banderas Bay that week. I swam with sea lions and dolphins, and even released newly hatched sea turtles into the ocean at dusk. I fell in love with humpback whales, sea lions and the whole country of Mexico. As I was packing to leave, I realized I never opened a book or watched a DVD.</p>
<p>The next month, Rose, I went to The Westminster Kennel Club Show in Manhattan, a show that Joe and I always attended but hadn’t been to in years. If you need a hug, you’re sure to get one there with 2,500 dogs in attendance. Then, in March my friends and I went to the St. Patrick’s Day parade in Manhattan and come on Rose, you gotta know that everyone loves a redhead on Saint Patrick’s Day.</p>
<p>And then there was my first trip to Ireland, which was absolutely magical. I fell in love with the whole country, which is very easy to do.</p>
<p>The following month, my niece flew in from Hawaii with her daughter and her new baby boy, and we all went up to New Hampshire where I proudly watched my daughter graduate from college. After dinner, we all headed to a party where there were about 75 young adults celebrating their graduation.</p>
<p>A few of the young men asked if I would do something called a keg stand, and not knowing what I was agreeing to, I said, “Sure.” Remember Rose, I promised to try new things? Well, next thing I knew, six college-aged young men were holding me upside down while the crowd was chanting my name as I drank beer from the pump. I was not very graceful that night, Rose.</p>
<p>During that trip, I fell completely and madly in love with my niece’s baby boy, Jameson. Of course, I knew I would love him, but I fell in love with him.</p>
<p>The next month my daughter brought home a basket of 3-week-old kittens that we bottle fed until they were old enough to get adopted and, of course, I fell in love with one and decided to keep him.</p>
<p>The following month, my friend and I went to see one of my favorite singers, Gladys Knight, in Atlantic City. I danced and sang along with her and just felt so blessed to be there with her that night. Her music has brought me such joy, and she got me through some difficult nights the past few years.</p>
<p>And then, toward the end of the year, my best friend and I went to see another one of my favorites, Rod Stewart. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen him and it was so wonderful to be there. I had my new iPhone with me that night and, thinking I taped him singing, I was so surprised the next day to see I actually taped myself and my friend singing along to his entire show. I fell in love with Gladys, Rod and my best friend just a little more last year.</p>
<p>Rose, I wanted to tell you that 2013 was the best year of my life. I fell in love so many times — not with a man — but it’s still love.</p>
<p>Grief is a normal part of life. While the loss is never replaced, and life events and milestones will forever be bittersweet, there will come a point when you know it’s time to move forward and you must give yourself the permission to rebuild your life. I’m doing that Rose.</p>
<p>It makes it so much easier when you have friends calling to see if you’re OK. So, Rose, I am OK, and thanks again for checking in on me.</p>
</blockquote>
</div>
<blockquote><div style="margin: 0px;"></div>
</blockquote>
<div style="margin: 0px;"><p><span class="font-size-1"><em>Kathleen Maloney is an administrative assistant with the Asbury Park Press.</em></span></p>
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;"></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;"></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;"></div>My First Trip to Ireland - My Journey Hometag:thewildgeese.irish,2014-05-22:6442157:BlogPost:942942014-05-22T05:00:00.000ZKathleen Concannon Maloneyhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/KathleenConcannonMaloney
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84705836?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-left" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84705836?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"></img></a> Last winter, a year after my husband died, I decided to take my first trip to Ireland, birthplace of my ancestors.</p>
<p>I don’t have many regrets in my life, but not finding a way to take my father, Edwin Concannon, to Ireland will always be at the top of my list. There were always reasons why I couldn’t do it — raising a child, financial, not enough vacation time, and then…</p>
<p><a target="_self" href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84705836?profile=original"><img width="750" class="align-left" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84705836?profile=RESIZE_1024x1024" width="750"/></a>Last winter, a year after my husband died, I decided to take my first trip to Ireland, birthplace of my ancestors.</p>
<p>I don’t have many regrets in my life, but not finding a way to take my father, Edwin Concannon, to Ireland will always be at the top of my list. There were always reasons why I couldn’t do it — raising a child, financial, not enough vacation time, and then his health.</p>
<p>On my flight to Shannon Airport, while many people were sleeping on the plane, I had my nose pressed to the window like a child, taking it all in. As the plane began to descend, I took out the picture of my father, which I had in a clear protective sheet, and held it up to the window. I knew it would be emotional for me. As I got closer and my view of Ireland became clearer, I began to cry.</p>
<p>Growing up, my father would tell me and my sister, Eva, all about the history of Ireland. Because of him, even as a young child, I was very proud of my Irish heritage. He told me how proud and strong in spirit the Irish are while always keeping faith and hope.</p>
<p>He played his <span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">Irish</span> records on his old Victrola and Eva and I would march proudly behind him throughout our railroad apartment in Guttenberg as we giggled. I waited for “I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen” to come on, knowing he would sing it to me and tell me again how he named me after that song.</p>
<p>Watching him as he sang along to “Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral,” a song of a mother’s love so strong, tears would form in his eyes and I too felt his sadness over the loss of his mother, Bessie Creegan Concannon, who died giving birth to his brother when he was 3, leaving him orphaned in New York City. Many times he told me, “Maybe one day you’ll go to the town where she was born.” At the time it never occurred to me that I might.</p>
<p>Thanks to a series of coincidences and magical chance encounters, I did.</p>
<p>As I held up my father’s picture that morning on my flight to Ireland, I noticed on the back side I had placed the 1885 birth record of his Aunt Anne — his mother’s sister. He’d had it for many years. I took this with me, as an afterthought, to honor her.</p>
<p>Although my father, who died in 2001, and his four siblings were never able to visit Ireland, they repeated the stories their mother and Aunt Anne told them about where they came from. All four of my grandparents’ ancestors came from the west and northwest of Ireland, but Bessie was the only one who was born in Ireland, in the village of Cloone in County Leitrim.</p>
<p>One night from my hotel in Galway, I Googled the church in Cloone where his Aunt Anne was baptized and was surprised to see what I thought was the tower from the church still standing. I asked my niece, who had accompanied me to Ireland, if she would mind taking a ride there with me the next day. Many people tried to talk us out of it, explaining how difficult it is for people not familiar with driving on the left side of the road to navigate narrow, rural roads. We were without GPS, and what believed to be a two-hour trip took us at least four.</p>
<p>I had no expectation other than to see the tower and touch the church doors, which were still there. After many stops for directions, we made it there just as the sun was setting. We took a few pictures and I got to touch the church doors. We walked through the small cemetery and saw the Creegan name on many headstones. I was beyond excited to feel this connection and know that my father’s family walked on the same ground.</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84705872?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="400" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84705872?profile=RESIZE_480x480" class="align-left" width="400"/></a>As we were getting into the car to head back for the long drive to Galway, I happened to look across the street to the only pub in town. The sign was in Gaelic, but it resembled “Creegan,” I told my niece. I walked in and the only person in the pub was the owner, Tommy Creegan. I joked that maybe we were cousins, and he rang his sister, Dolores Creegan, on the phone, who came right over.</p>
<p>She took one look at me and said: “Oh yes, you’re a Creegan Red. You’re ours.”</p>
<p>She invited us back to her house, and on the walk there I kept whispering to my niece: “I love her.”</p>
<p>As we entered her beautiful, warm home, she threw holy water on us, a ritual blessing, several times. She took Aunt Anne’s birth record and looked through her own paperwork as I watched. I began to pray that she was related to me because I felt an instant connection with her and wanted to see her again.</p>
<p>After several minutes of flipping through pages, she turned to me and threw her hands in the air and exclaimed that we were related: Her grandfather and my great-grandfather were first cousins and best friends. My niece quickly took a photo as I cried and hugged Dolores.</p>
<p>Having so few family members growing up and then losing my mother, sister, father and husband, all before their time, I’d suddenly found new family members I didn’t even know I had. Yet, I felt as though I’d know them my whole life. I felt an immediate kinship with them. I felt like I belonged. I had the intuitive feeling of predestination — I was fulfilled.</p>
<p>On the plane home, a man sitting next to me asked me if I had family there and again, I cried when I answered, “Yes, I do.” After I returned home, I received an email from yet another relative, who said her mother, Mossi, who is 85 years old, actually knew some of my father’s family members.</p>
<p>She said that the next time I was in Ireland, Mossi would take me to their old homestead. I flew back with my daughter, Kelly, a few months later.</p>
<p>Mossi met us and gave me a file of old papers all about my family. As promised, she took me to my family’s old homestead. Standing on the land where my great-grandparents and grandmother Bessie lived and played gave me a deep connection to Ireland and an even deeper bond and connection to the father I adored. I wished I could share this with him and I wished he could see me there.</p>
<p>I gathered up some stones, and when I returned home I placed them on his grave in Fort Lee. This got me wondering where Bessie was buried. I didn’t know where any of my grandparents were laid to rest. I found a note from 1933 that Anne wrote stating that she just purchased a plot in a cemetery in The Bronx where her sister is buried. I went there three times trying to find her.</p>
<p>On my fourth trip to the cemetery, a caretaker met me and he finally found her.</p>
<p>Poor Bessie was in an unmarked grave since 1933. All around her were beautiful headstones and flowers left on graves — symbols of love and respect. I felt terrible for her. I walked across the street and bought her a beautiful headstone as grand as the others. I added shamrocks — lots of shamrocks.</p>
<p>As I walked into the office to straighten all of the paperwork out, the woman behind the desk told me Bessie was buried with her sister Anne. How wonderful that I found her too — after all, it was her birth record that led me to Cloone in the first place.</p>
<p>As I turned to leave, the woman said: “There’s room for one more in there, you know.” I turned and told her to save it for me. I walked back to the headstone shop and added Anne’s name along with mine. Bessie never knew a grandchild and I never knew a grandmother, yet we were connected by her little boy — my father. I thought that would be a nice way to honor my father, Bessie, Anne and the rest of my father’s siblings.</p>
<p>My heart was pulling me back to Ireland and my newfound family there. I flew back on New Year’s Eve, which happened to be the two-year anniversary of my husband’s death. I was able to obtain Bessie’s original birth record from Dublin and I can now apply for dual citizenship. During this last visit, I purchased a home — the second home of my cousin Delores — in Aughavas, a village next to Cloone. Sometime in the future, I plan to move there.</p>
<p>In addition to the stunning beauty of County Leitrim, the people have been so welcoming. Wherever I go, they say: “Welcome home, Kathleen. You’re home now.”</p>
<p>I’ll carry the love my father gave me in my heart forever and I’ll continue to feel his gentle hand guiding my way.</p>
<p>As I hum the end of the song he sang to me so many times, I fondly recall the words:</p>
<blockquote><p><i>“And I will take you back, Kathleen, to where your heart will feel no pain</i></p>
<p><i>And when the fields are fresh and green, I will take you to your home Kathleen.”</i></p>
</blockquote>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="font-size-1"><em>Kathleen Maloney is an administrative assistant with the Asbury Park Press: <a href="mailto:kmaloney@app.com">kmaloney@app.com</a>; 732-643-4500. She is working on her first book "Twice Lost" - <a href="http://http://twicelost.com" target="_blank">TwiceLost.com</a>.</em></span></p>
<p></p>Life With Joe, Before and After His Illnesstag:thewildgeese.irish,2014-05-22:6442157:BlogPost:942892014-05-22T05:00:00.000ZKathleen Concannon Maloneyhttps://thewildgeese.irish/profile/KathleenConcannonMaloney
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84705531?profile=original" target="_self"><img class="align-right" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84705531?profile=RESIZE_480x480" width="400"></img></a> <strong><span class="font-size-7" style="font-family: 'book antiqua', palatino;">M</span>y husband Joe and I</strong> were blessed to enjoy 18 wonderful years together before he became ill. We shared a beautiful daughter and there was love, laughter, joy, hard work and so many plans for our future. However, like most families who have a loved one stricken with a serious…</p>
<p><a href="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84705531?profile=original" target="_self"><img width="400" src="http://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/84705531?profile=RESIZE_480x480" width="400" class="align-right"/></a><strong><span class="font-size-7" style="font-family: 'book antiqua', palatino;">M</span>y husband Joe and I</strong> were blessed to enjoy 18 wonderful years together before he became ill. We shared a beautiful daughter and there was love, laughter, joy, hard work and so many plans for our future. However, like most families who have a loved one stricken with a serious illness, we began to speak in terms of “before Joe was ill” and “after Joe became ill.”</p>
<p>On Christmas Day 2003, two weeks after Joe was laid off from the company where he had worked for 20 years, he fell to the floor of our family room and had a psychotic breakdown. We spent the next day in the emergency room, where he was given a full medical evaluation. After hearing he recently went through a traumatic experience, the doctor told us he was depressed. Joe knew it was more serious and he tried to tell the doctor so. As it turned out, Joe was right.</p>
<p>A few days after the emergency room visit, I drove him to another doctor’s appointment. While stopped at a red light, he looked over at me and he began to gently pat my shoulder telling me, “You’re a nice girl, you’re a nice girl.” I remained frozen even when the light changed as I told him, “Joe, I’m your wife.” I said, “You’re my husband.” And then he pushed himself away from me in fear and said, “<i>Oh no, your husband is gone and he is never coming back. Do you understand?” he said, “He is never coming back.”</i></p>
<p>The doctor asked him that day if he suffered from depression or bipolar and we both answered, “No.” We were both wrong. When we finally saw the psychiatrist, six weeks later, he diagnosed Joe with Bipolar II disorder. Because it is so often misdiagnosed as depression, patients diagnosed with it for the first time are often wrongly treated with antidepressants alone, which can make the symptoms worse. In Joe’s case, the Paxil did make his condition worse. A lot worse.</p>
<p>So, in addition to the anti-depressant<b>,</b> the psychiatrist also prescribed a mood stabilizer. We stopped at the pharmacy to fill the prescription on the way home. I was so relieved and had hoped that the medication would help Joe. But he said he didn’t have bipolar and he just wanted to be a productive person and continue working. He put the bottles of pills in a drawer and refused to take them.</p>
<p>After a few weeks, he seemed a little better. I was relieved when he said he put that episode behind him and he never wanted to discuss it again. Although Joe eventually found another job and went back to work, without ongoing management of his illness his condition worsened.</p>
<p>People with Bipolar I experience mania consisting of distinct periods of elevated, expansive or irritable mood. With Bipolar II, they experience hypomania, a mild to moderate level of mania that is a generally less destructive state than mania. Hypomania may feel good to the person who experiences it, and it sometimes may be associated with good functioning and enhanced productivity. That’s how Joe was able to get another job and go back to work in 2004.</p>
<p>But it is very common for a person with Bipolar II to deny that anything is wrong. So, the situation was never dealt with. From 2003 to 2009, Joe never saw another doctor for his bipolar. Without treatment, his condition worsened.</p>
<p>For the next six years, his untreated bipolar controlled our lives. It was one crisis after another, and our family life became unsettled and unpredictable. While Joe was never physically abusive to me nor did he self-medicate, as do some people with untreated bipolar, he became reckless in other ways<b>.</b> He became financially irresponsible and even purchased an expensive boat that our family could not afford.</p>
<p>Once an expert handyman who took pride in his home, he now seemed unwilling to fix anything, and became furious if I tried. He became irritable and less connected to his family and friends. He had always been an animal lover and now had no interest in them. It was heartbreaking to see him screaming at our beloved cat. I grew increasingly protective of our animals when he would call me at work threatening to leave the doors open to let them run away. The animals became a way for him to torment me.</p>
<p>He began to taunt me with notes, which he hung around our kitchen, sometimes 20 a day. I tried to get up extra early in the morning to collect them all before our daughter woke up to find them. In the notes, he called me offensive names, which he had never done before.</p>
<p>People who have not lived through an ordeal such as my family experienced do not understand how this could happen, how the situation was never dealt with. How could you let a loved one with a severe mental illness not get treatment?</p>
<p>The sad fact is that you don’t have control over what someone else does. You can’t force someone to do something they do not want to do. My husband refused to believe he had bipolar disorder. And in 2011, when he was diagnosed with Stage IV cancer, he refused to believe that. His denial of reality was part of his illness. And that’s why he died. It was as much the bipolar as it was the cancer that killed him. It is hard to believe this happened, but it did happen and I know it is happening to other families — more than we are willing to admit.</p>
<p>Individuals with mental illness need help. Families caring for a loved one who has a severe mental illness need help and support also. The role of caregiver is so under-recognized in our society, especially while caring for a loved one with a severe mental illness. It can be a frustrating, lonely and isolating experience. It was for me. I felt trapped at times and constantly grieved the loss of the person I once knew, the happy life we once had and the many dreams we once shared.</p>
<p>Whether it’s due to pride, stigma or just plain disbelief by other family members, many caregivers find lack of support not only within their own families, but also in a flawed, disjointed mental health system, which at times cares more about protecting someone’s civil rights — to the point where it does more harm than good. Many times, parents and other caregivers are treated as adversaries instead of part of the support team.</p>
<p>I was fortunate to have a great circle of friends around me, constantly providing love, support and a sympathetic ear. But I would have greatly benefited from attending a support group for people who have gone through some of the same things my family was going through. I honestly didn’t know such groups existed. I would highly recommend that caregivers of mentally ill individuals join a local support group, learn as much about the disease as they can, familiarize themselves with the laws pertaining to mental health issues, especially the involuntary commitment laws and, most importantly, have a plan in place in case an emergency occurs and crisis intervention is needed.</p>
<p>Had I done all these things, this story may have had a different ending, one with far less pain for Joe, myself and my family.</p>
<p>In 2009, a large lump appeared on Joe’s neck, but he feared going to doctors now and wouldn’t have the lump examined. I tried everything to get him to a doctor, but he would not go. In time, he began going into the bathroom at night with a box cutter, trying to cut the lump off. He would then bandage his neck and go to work the next day.</p>
<p>One day in January 2011, he began to bleed uncontrollably from his mouth, and he walked into an emergency room asking if they could pull his tooth because he was sure a bad tooth was causing the lump on his neck. After I arrived at the hospital that day, he quickly told me, “If you tell them I am bipolar, I’m walking out.”</p>
<p>Later that week, Joe was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. Surgery was not an option. He was 51<b>.</b> His prognosis — two years with aggressive treatment. He began treatment, but a few weeks later he had another breakdown and ended up in a psychiatric ward. The cancer treatment was placed on hold.</p>
<p>A few days later, he was released from the psychiatric ward — irresponsibly. I didn’t think he was ready to come home and I told a woman from the hospital many times. I told her Joe had a history of not taking the bipolar medication and I was afraid he would stop again when he returned home. I also said I was at work and was unable to pick him up. I was furious when I later learned that the hospital put him in a cab and paid his one-way fare home.</p>
<p>Later that night, not knowing Joe had been brought home, I heard a noise on our deck. I put the light on to find Joe crawling up the steps of our back deck. He was so thin and frail — the cancer was growing and a tumor had broken through his skin on his neck and was now exposed. It was difficult for him to breathe.</p>
<p>Joe said he had leaned over the side of our pool to retrieve a raft so he could make a bed. He didn’t want any neighbors to see him, fearing he would be returned to the hospital, so he dragged the raft under the deck. For a pillow, he used the bag of his dirty laundry from the hospital. He had no access to a bathroom for hours. He had no food or water all day. He told me through his tears, “I just wanted to be home.” At that moment, I promised Joe he never had to leave our home again — no more hospitals. I felt hopeless and I began to wonder if he would receive better care if he were in prison.</p>
<p>There were many heartbreaking days the past eight years, but this was the most heartbreaking of all. I cried myself to sleep that night and heard Joe crying from his room next to mine.</p>
<p>Based on my experience, I completely lost faith in the way our mental health system cares for someone so ill. While he began to receive palliative care, I was caring for him alone while working a full-time job. I was overwhelmed.</p>
<p>Over the course of the next several weeks, while his physical condition weakened, I asked him if he would try the medication the doctors prescribed for his bipolar and was surprised when he agreed. And then after a few weeks something amazing happened — he was transformed and the old Joe began to return.</p>
<p>Three months later, Joe died at home from cancer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class="font-size-1"><i>Kathleen Maloney is an administrative assistant at the Asbury Park Press: <a href="mailto:kmaloney@app.com">kmaloney@app.com</a>; 732-897-4500. She is working on a book, “Twice Lost,” detailing her experiences.</i></span></p>
<p> </p>