"Maggie Brady, Now isn't that an Irish name!"

Being in Dublin, helped me recognize my Irish roots, as the direct and strong ones that they are, but I was also able to further understand the difference between my pride as an Irish-American, and the pride that my Dublin family holds as Independent Ireland Citizens. Meeting some of my Irish relatives is an experience that I don't think I have completely grasped yet. Both my father and my mother's sides of the family have Irish roots, and until recently I did not know from where in Ireland we came, or even that the connection was still so close. Unfortunately there is no known Brady connection in Ireland, even though it is still a very popular name. My father's side of the family immigrated to America much further back than my mother's side, and so the roots have been lost. While I was in Galway I picked up two books on Irish family names and clans. I was able to learn about both sides of my Irish heritage, where we come from and what are family shields look like.

Above is the shield of my father's family, the Bradys. I learned from the two books I bought that The Bradys come mostly from Co. Cavan, and the adjoining county of Monaghan. The surname derives from the Irish Mac Bradaigh or Bradach, meaning thieving or dishonest.*

This shield comes from my mother's father's side of the family. I was informed by my relatives in Dublin, that the Dowd Clan, or O' Dubhda, from 'Dubh' meaning 'black' are originally from north-west Mayo and western Sligo. The family name traces back to a tribal group of the fifth-century monarch supposedly responsible for kidnapping St. Patrick to Ireland.*

During the last week in Dublin, I was fortunate enough to meet three different sets of family members, all connected through my mothers grandfather, on the paternal side. Below is my journal response to meeting my Irish family.

Entry 13: Sunday, May 26th & Monday May 27th, 2002.

On Sunday morning Anne and Joan O'Dowd and Joan's daughter, Orla, came and picked me up at the hotel and we went into town to Bewley's Café. Anne O'Dowd reminds me a lot of my mother's family, even her face resembles some of my great aunts on the Dowd side. Unfortunately, we did not have a lot of time together, because Anne had been the last person I got a hold of, and also at the last minute, I had to schedule to meet her before I met up with the O'Connell's that afternoon. At Bewley's Café we talked about the family, and the relationship we all had to each other. It was refreshing to know that all the connection were just as unclear on the Irish side of the family, as they are on the American side. We decided after some figuring that Anne and me are most likely 3rd Cousins making Orla and I 3rd cousins once removed. All of the connection are through my mothers grandfather, John Dowd, who was the youngest child in his family and the only one born in America. Because John was the youngest of his family, and my mother the oldest, I am cousins with Anne and Joan who are my mothers age, making Orla (who is closer to my age) a third cousin, once removed. We talked about family names, and discovered that many of the same first names run across the Atlantic, as well as the shared surname. Both sides have Toms, Annes, Dicks, and Franks. We walked a bit through St. Stephen's Green and took a photo, and then it was unfortunately time for me to head back to the hotel to meet up with Dan O'Connell and his wife Helen.

Anne O'Dowd is on the left, Orla in the center and Joan to the right.

The O'Connell's live North of Dublin near Howth Bay. Dan brought me to their house, which is also where their practice is held; (they are both doctors.) Helen was such a welcoming woman, and she made a lovely late lunch for us as soon as we arrived. We had a nice green salad, with smoked salmon and homemade brown bread. It was a delightful meal, and Helen was just so kind and hospitable she made me feel like I had known the two of them for years. They took me on a nice drive to Howth bay near them, which used to be one of the main ports for Dublin. We walked along the water and then spent a nice afternoon talking. The O'Connell connection is one of the closest connection to America, Dan O'Connell was Grandson of Gilbert Dowd who was brothers to my mother's Grandfather John Dowd, or so I am told. The reason for the name difference, is Dan's mother is the connection to Gilbert Dowd, not his father.

Helen and Dan O'Connell with Howth Bay behind them

On Monday I met the Dowd's, Bertie and Kathleen and their son Vincent. Bertie came and picked me up at the Jury Inn and took me to his and his wife's home in Southern Dublin. I was informed by Kathleen that the South of Dublin is said to look down upon the north of Dublin, they are said to be of a higher class than northern Dublin. I wonder if this has anything to do with past politics and religion, but I did not ask. I, personally did not see any reason why it should be this way, because I enjoyed the scenery surrounding northern Dublin much better than that of Southern Dublin. Shortly after I arrived, Vincent, one of Bertie and Kathleen's sons, took me on a drive up through the hills surrounding the area. He took me to the highest pub in Dublin, called Fox's and we had a coffee. The drive was pleasant and so was the pub, although I had wished that I could have spent more time initially with Bertie and Kathleen. When we got back from the drive, the family took me out to a nice dinner at the Yellow House, a restaurant nearby. This visit was probably the most difficult for me, in that the age difference between myself and the Dowd's was larger than with other family members. The Dowds are still practicing Catholics, and the topic of religion came up a few times on the trip. Although I was not comfortable disclosing the absence of Catholicism in my faith to Bertie and Kathleen, Vincent and I discussed religion a bit during our long drive. His brother is a priest and so the Church has played a large role in his life. He was curious as to my opinions though, because he has children my age and only slightly older.

Above are the Dowds: Vincent, Kathleen, another family member, whose relation I am unsure of, and Bertie.		Above I posed across from Fox's pub, behind me is a view of all of Dublin.
Fox's Pub, the highest pub in Dublin.		The view from Across the street from Fox's pub. A nearly aerial view of Dublin.

Spending time with my Irish relatives felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity. I am hopeful that I will travel back to Ireland someday and meet more of my extended family, although I don't know how soon this will happen. I want to close this page on a more somber note, but a necessary one. In Dublin there is a tribute monument on Custom House Quay, the Quay that our hotel was located on. The Monument shows sculptures of a scene from the Potato Famine. Most likely the reason the Dowds, or O'Dowds, ever left Ireland was because of the Potato Famine, and I felt a connection between the misfortune of my ancestors in the statues the monument depicted. It is a strange feeling to associate with something you had no experience with or education on, and know that it has played a direct role in the location of your family.

The Monument from behind, looking down Custom House Quay towards our Hotel.

The Monument from the front, looking down Custom House Quay towards O'Connell Street.

*Grenham, John & Myra Maguire. Irish Family Names, London: Harper Collins Publishers, 2000.

*Grenham, John. The Little Book of Irish Clans, Dublin: John Hinde Ltd., 1994.

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