Don't you love it when you stumble upon an old family photograph that you'd never seen before? (Well, especially when there's been precious few to find!) I was in Ireland some time ago visiting my now late Great Aunt Johanna. She was the youngest child of the Tubridy clan, most of whom emigrated from West County Clare to New York City in the early 20th century. Anyhow, so there I was, sitting with Aunt Johanna, having a cup of tea and munching on some sweets when I looked behind her and gasped. On the wall was this photograph of my Gramma Molly (her oldest sister) sitting with my father, my uncle (who you've come to know as Father Jack) and their sister, Irene. I asked Great Aunt Johanna, who lived on the farm that's been THE family homestead in Ireland for centuries, how long that photo of my father had been hanging on her living room wall. "I don't know," she mused, "ever since Molly posted it from New York, when Joseph was small." That would be perhaps 1930! I wonder if my father ever saw this photo while he was alive--his hands on his lap, his eyeing the camera with intensity and delight. How wonderful it would have been for him to know this secret photo was being well preserved in Ireland just as once were all the great European texts harbored by medieval Irish monks.
Perhaps one day some future generation will stumble upon our old photograph, become curious and ask about our story. What will they say when they look into the eyes of that child?
I'll end here for now as we ponder those old family photos and stories. And I look forward to seeing many of you later this month for the world premier of FBI GIRL at The Pittsburgh Playhouse.
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