Finding My Voice

I spent the last 18 months writing a book, which went to print a few months ago. I now have the hardback copy in my hands and hope to have it published on Amazon soon. In the meantime, I thought this would be a great place to share a few previews.

Over the last 36 years, I have written extensively about my family history, and I will continue to research and write on that topic. However, this particular book is a deeply personal journey. It not only incorporates genealogy but also provides a meaningful forum for me to share my own voice. 

“Finding my voice; a personal journey”

For the last thirty-five years I have researched my family’s history. I read ship records, birth and death certificates, immigration records, and church and cemetery records. I have always been interested in history, but it was not until that day in 1990, when I sat across the table from my grandmother at a local restaurant, that I decided I wanted to know more about those ancestors who came before me.

My grandmother and I had a very close relationship. It was under her roof that I came to live immediately after my birth on February 14, 1960. When my mother remarried in 1963, I returned to her house on Ridge Avenue and spent many overnight stays. Growing up, we always lived within walking distance of my grandparents’ house. If I felt sad, lonely or upset, it was my grandparents I sought for comfort.

That afternoon in May of 1990, I was thirty years old, married and the mother of three sons. My grandmother had been in remission from non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma after completing chemotherapy earlier that year. As we sat in the restaurant, she began to speak about her family. She told me her mother died suddenly when she was three, in the summer of 1915, and shortly thereafter she was raised by grandparents then by an aunt. She said she did not remember what her mother looked like and had never been given a photograph. Her parents were immigrants from Ireland and in their culture, they did not believe in keeping pictures of deceased family members around the house. As a result, my grandmother grew up not knowing what her mother looked like, which I always thought was heartbreaking. Her father provided financial support but left the day to day childbearing to others. He died in the summer of 1930.

As she spike, I noticed she had a cough, and I wondered silently if the cancer had returned. A few days later our fear became reality: the cancer came back, more aggressive than before. She died on a hot humid night on July 30, 1990. Shortly thereafter my journey into the past began, and what a journey it had been.

The funny thing about genealogy is that when you think you are researching a particular person, you are really researching the times in which they lived. You learn where they lived, prayed and worked; how many marriages or children they had; what their level of education was; whether they owned or rented their house; who their neighbors were. You learn about epidemics, how they traveled-by foot, horse, carriage, automobile or ship-and all the details that place them in a world distinct from ours. One discovery leads to another, and you fall down a rabbit hole of stories, documents and context.

I felt a thrill when I discovered that both my paternal and maternal grandparents had once lived in the very same house. (3907 Ridge Ave) My paternal great grandparents had sold the house to my maternal grandparents years before my parents began dating. Both my paternal and maternal great grandfathers fought in the Civil War for the North. A maternal first cousin fought and died with Custer (under Reno) at the Battle of Little Bighorn.( He is written about in history books) My greatest find was that Benjamin Franklin is a direct ancestor on my paternal side.

Who we are today is the sum of all those who came before us. Fast forward to 2025: I will be celebrating my sixty-fifth birthday in a few weeks. Though my family has a pretty good idea of who I might be, I do not believe they truly know me. How could they? As human beings, we all go about our lives wearing a mask, allowing others to see only what we choose to reveal. Depending on our journey, that mask may be loosely or tightly affixed for many reasons. Do we fear being judged or rejected?Did we learn to have a voice or were we shut down as children? Were we permitted to express our emotions openly? Did we feel loved and nurtured? 

Writing this book has become a journey in love for myself: an act of acceptance for who I am and the roads I have traveled. It has given me permission to have my own voice, to say freely what I think and feel. I have traveled one hell of a road in sixty-five years, and I welcome you to enjoy the ride with me.

Cathedral Cemetery and Our Mother of Sorrows Catholic Church

 Anyone who knows me knows that I have researched my family’s history for the last 35 years. By a striking coincidence, my recent interest in Cathedral Cemetery—located at 1032 N. 48th Street (Lancaster & Girard Ave)—led me to the very church where my 2x great-grandparents were married in 1884. In 1849, Bishop Francis Kenrick purchased 45 acres of farmland to build a Catholic cemetery for the influx of Irish and German Catholic immigrants who had recently made Philadelphia their home. The plan was to sell burial plots and use the proceeds to fund the building of the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul at Logan Square. At the time, a priest from the nearby St. John’s Orphan Asylum used to say Sunday Mass at the asylum for the orphaned boys and local residents. Noticing that the cemetery's gravediggers were unable to attend, he decided to convert a tool shed inside the cemetery into a makeshift chapel so he could say Mass for them. He called this chapel St. George. Over time, the little tool-shed chapel became so crowded that church leadership determined a proper church needed to be built. Consequently, Our Mother of Sorrows (Our Lady of Sorrows) was constructed in 1870 at the head of the cemetery. Bill and I research and photograph different places of interest, and I write their historical backgrounds. When we set out today, our primary interest was simply exploring the old cemetery. However, while driving through the grounds, we couldn't help but notice the two enormous spires atop the twin towers on both sides of the church building. I immediately hopped out of the car to take in the magnificent sight. Although the church closed its doors in 2017 after merging with St. Ignatius, the school remained open until the end of the school year in 2026. When I discovered the name of the church, I remembered that a set of my direct ancestors had been married in a church with a very similar name. As soon as I got home, I went back into my notes, and there it was in black and white: my paternal 2x great-grandparents were married in that exact church in 1884. At the time of Alexander Mervine and Maryann Hughes' marriage, Alexander lived on 61st Street and worked as a “mutton butcher.”Cathedral Cemetery (or Old Cathedral Cemetery) contains some fascinating headstones and holds about 300,000 burials, though many plots lack stones or grave markers of any kind. Notably, 50 members of the 69th Pennsylvania Infantry from the Civil War are interred in its grounds; the 69th famously fought at the Battle of Gettysburg. Alexander himself was a member of the 68th Pennsylvania Infantry. When Maryann died, she was buried in a Catholic cemetery in Camden, New Jersey. When Alexander passed away a few years later, he was buried in Odd Fellows Cemetery, which was located at 22nd and Diamond Street. However, Odd Fellows was closed in 1951 when the Philadelphia Housing Authority acquired the land to build the Raymond Rosen housing project. They moved and reinterred the bodies elsewhere. Through my earlier research on Alexander Mervine, I discovered that his remains were relocated to Lawnview Cemetery in Rockledge and interred in a mass grave with others from Odd Fellows.

Happy 7th Birthday to my granddaughter.
I called to wish her a happy birthday. No response.
Bill dropped off the gifts. Door was closed in his face.
Then I received a follow up text.
We tried Ava.

Ava

 I picked up your birthday and grade school graduation cards today. I found myself standing in the aisle of my local CVS reading all the different cards for a granddaughter. It should not have been difficult picking a card but it was because I felt like I was buying a card for someone I did not know. You see, I have not seen you for several years. Yes. I periodically am in contact with your mom and she tells me little things about you from time to time. However, I have not seen you since you were about five years old. The last time you spent any real time with me was the summer of 2011 after a vacation with your cousins Shaun and Nikolas at Dutch Wonderland. You were four years old. Prior to that you spent most weekends at my house. 

Though you were removed from my life, I never forgot you. As a matter of fact, I think about you everyday. I do not grieve as I once did in the early days but I would be lying if I did not say there is a sadness within my heart I carry everyday. In my mind, you are still four years old. That is the memory I have. But you are not four years old anymore but a young lady nearly 14yrs old. I imagine you to be the sweet little girl I once knew but older. I do not know if we will ever reconnect in the future though I hope we do. But I would leave that decision up to others including yourself. So much life has been experienced and lived and there will be questions. Questions, I will answer to the best of my ability without hurting anyone in the process. Sometimes, decisions are made with the best intentions but still full short of the mark. I truly believe that some of the decisions that were made in the early years were made for you out of love and protection. Or at least I hope so. I will always love and I hope one day you seek me out.

Love Mom Mom

The Best Part of Being Her Grandmother

 

Collum and Ann Marie Gallagher McCaffery

 Married at St John the Baptist Catholic Church in 1928.

I Love You More Than Sunshine

 

It’s Been Awhile

 It has been a while since I posted. Truth be told, I was busy living life working, traveling and enjoying my family. Over the last two years, Bill and I traveled to Northern California and toured up and down the coast followed by a trip to Scotland with my two teenage grandsons, celebrated my 60th birthday in Aruba with my mom and sister, buried my biological father in South Carolina as well as my sister-in-law in Tennessee. My oldest grandchild graduated high school and went off to Millersville University. My second grandchild started high school. My youngest grandchild is in her third year of dance and soon to start Kindergarten. Of course, there was the pandemic that turned many worlds upside down. The upcoming presidential election in which I have been actively working for the Democratic Party. Many pictures were taken. I can’t promise that I will be back on here in a regular basis or that I will post those pictures.