Years ago in Ireland when Grandma made a stew, she added
potatoes to some meat, it served more then a few.
That clan was
born on the emerald Isle, little more is know that that, except that one
day on that island dreary, Thomas Moore met Hannah Cleary.
that Green and luscious country had run all out of spuds, Thomas and
his Hannah packed up all their duds.
They set sail for America, the
land of all those free, a voyage that's the root of our Irish family tree.
The missing puzzle pieces at this time are still unclear, though it's
know that Tom and Hannah bore one son that's very dear.
Hannah raised her one son James, this is part of history, the
whereabouts of Thomas to this day is still a mystery.
Some say he
went back to fight the Irish War, but we'll never really know what
happened to the long lost Thomas Moore.
Well James went on to
college and became a pharmacist, in the city of New Haven drawn to
the harbor mist.
He met a lass named Catherine, she was a
Sanderson, though he an Irish Catholic, her Scottish heart he won.
Together they were happy and raised a clan of eight, their numbers
kept on multiplying this we know to date.
As this Irish/Scottish family
settled down by the sea, clothes were handed down to the next on
Catherine raised the children and James worked
long and hard, as the kids went off each day to the St. Peter's church
James, Thomas, Raymond, Catherine, Mike and Mary
too followed by Walter and Robert down by the harbor blue.
grew up and played by the City Point docks, with seagulls overhead
above the jetty rocks.
Well, one day this fine family had a day so dark
and sad, a heart attack had stolen their husband and their dad.
the thick and hearty family held together true, and soon the melting
pot added to the stew, As several of the brother, trudged off to war,
all Americans joined forces to even up the score.
This opened up the
cover to the family's simmering stew, and one by one they married
to another you know who.
They added French and Swedish and
Polish to the pot, a dab or two of English and what ever else you got!
Bob and Dorothy, Mary, Ruth and Ben, Martha, June and Marilyn.
forth and be fruitful" and so they did, as one by one they proclaimed
"We're having another kid."
From the first baby Robin to the last little
Joe, twenty eight Moore babies, will the pot overflow?
went their separate ways, but gathered every year, to the memorial
Day picnic which drew the family near.
We'd watch the parade and
eat at Mary's house, til the next generation brought home another
We moved the celebration to sheltered Painter Park, played
volleyball and horseshoes from dawn until dark.
A little touch of Italy,
then two and three and four, pasta galore it's Irish stew no more!
Mozzarella, Ricotta cheese, pass the Parmesan if you please.
wine, oregano too, tomato paste adds to the taste.
other nationalities who, add a little pinch or two.
As we stir and we
blend our stew simmers nice, when suddenly we add a touch of
Today we sit together at Jane's cottage by the sea,
lights a twinkling round and round the Merry Christmas tree.
table is now blended with ethnic foods of choice, this clan is still
together for this we all rejoice.
So now you see the mixture that
developed in one pot, not to rich, a little thick, spicy not to hot.
blended together cannot be split apart, because the stock is Irish
based - right from the heart.
And if you let it sit and simmer just a
while, the next wee generation will add a pinch o'smile.....
This poem was written by my first cousin Ann Frances Cleary
Sanderson Moore White(LeBlanc)Lombardi in 1992 for a family
gathering at our cousin Jane's house. It is a poem of survival, a poem
of joy and a poem most Americans can identify with....for we are the
great melting pot of the world. I place this here today in honor of
Ireland the mother land of my heritage and my family, who though
blended are still all Irish at heart. Patricia Ann Cleary