More than 120 people entered the Ireland and Me competition held by the Irish Times Generation Emigration pages. Many thanks to everybody who wrote these poignant, insightful and funny articles, from so many parts of the world. Some have already appeared on irishtimes.com/generationemigration; others will appear there in the coming weeks.
Here we publish the winning entry and the runner-up, two tales of Irish people who, in quite different ways, made new lives overseas.
Winner
Chris McClay, Texas: ‘I have always known that here isn’t home’
Mine is probably not the typical emigrant story. I was born in St Patrick's home for mothers and babies, on Navan Road in Dublin, and lived there until shortly before my fourth birthday. It is enough to say that my single mother was unable to care for me and that she made a difficult and courageous decision.
Just before my fourth birthday I was adopted sight unseen – save for photographs – by an American couple in Texas. Two plane rides later I was in my new home.
Although I have no clear memories of my first four years in Ireland, my adopted parents raised me with the knowledge that I was adopted and that I was from Ireland. They also made it clear that both of these things were a blessing.
Growing up, I felt strongly drawn to Ireland – and I found myself missing Ireland. I would see pictures and feel almost homesick. I thought it was strange that I would miss a place that I didn’t remember.
Carson McCullers wrote: “We are homesick most for the places we have never known.”
It seemed the older I got, the more I missed it.
Then, in my mid 40s, a surprising development: I discovered that I had family in Ireland, a brother and a sister.
When I finally returned, in 2011, it was for a visit, not to stay. I brought my grown son with me. I wanted him to see the land of my birth. The minute I stepped outside Dublin Airport I knew I was home. Those words don’t convey what my heart felt, but that’s the best I can do.
It was two wonderful weeks of meeting my brother and sister and nieces and nephews and cousins. I spent time in Dublin, Newbridge, Galway and the Aran Islands. I visited my birth mother’s grave while I was there.
Before I left I discovered I had two more brothers and a sister I hadn’t known about. I learned who my birth father was. I rode the rails through the Irish countryside and was captivated by her beauty. Every person I met in Ireland made me feel welcome. Her beauty and her people stole my heart.
I will continue to visit home when possible. For me Ireland is heaven on earth. In a perfect world I would be able to move my family, my friends and my job 4,500 miles across the Atlantic to Ireland. But this is not a perfect world.
I have spent a lifetime now in Texas – and it is a fantastic life that I have. I have a loving wife, three wonderful children, two beautiful grandchildren, wonderful friends and a great job. I have roots here in Texas. I have always felt at home here, but I have always known that here isn’t home.
Home is Ireland.
Runner-up
Bridget Farmer, Australia: ‘I have just had a baby’
I live in Australia. I have just had a baby, a little Aussie baby, and thoughts of Ireland and all the things I can’t show him constantly creep into my sleep-deprived mind. I’m not homesick for me; I’m homesick for him, because he will never know Ireland as home.
He’ll not spend his summer holidays in soft sunlight and hazy rain on deserted Donegal beaches. Yes, we have beaches in Australia, some of the best in the world, but you don’t feel you have discovered them yourself. The getting lost in flat limestone-spotted fields and rolling sand dunes for three- quarters of an hour, with only the taunting sounds of the elusive waves to guide you, is an essential part of Irish holidaying.
Thigh-level stabs from spiky dune grass, sightings of stripy beach snails and sheep poo sticking to the soles of your bare feet are all part of my nostalgic childhood memories.
I will bore him with my “in Ireland . . . ” anecdotes. I already wear my husband’s patience thin every time I despair at the Australian sun setting in just under half an hour, or how it’s so unfestively hot at Christmas or how disappointing it is not to have the option of sweet popcorn at the cinema.
He’ll grow up thinking a three-hour drive is just a short trip down the road instead of the span of the entire country with 100 accents and dialects along the way.
I never intended to marry an Australian. I certainly never thought that my child would have an Australian accent, and sometimes I even find it funny that my dog is Australian. I don’t like the heat. I actually quite like cold, wet days. Bush-fire season terrifies me, and although I’ve yet to see a snake I can’t help but think that every stick or hose pipe has just writhed in a very reptilian manner. What am I doing here?
The truth is that I am making a living here. A family here. A home here. I live in a wonderful country town filled with artists and alternative people.
In Australia everyone has roots from elsewhere. I no longer think about how my Northern Irish accent, with its foundation of English vowels left over from my first five years of infancy, sounds. I am now part of this multinational, multiracial, hot, snake-filled, salty-popcorn-eating country.
So instead of lamenting the loss of summer evening light that lingers in the sky until just before midnight, and having to tap my shoes out before I put them on, for fear of lurking spiders, I content myself with lullabies of Raglan Road for my baby and planning the trip home early next year to introduce my boy to his Irish family.
