Irish Pride Today and Every Day Tuesday, Mar 17 2015 

ancestry and Genealogy and St Patrick's Day , , , , , , , , , , Kelly Deeny 9:48 am

A view from atop Blarney Castle

A view from atop Blarney Castle

The Irish blood flows through my veins though I’ve never visited the actual villages or hometowns of my ancestors.  I traveled to Southern Ireland about ten years ago, but at the time, I hadn’t started my genealogy research. As such, I didn’t know that my Deenys originated from the Donegal/Derry counties of Northern Ireland.  That just gives me one more reason to return to the stunning Isle and walk the paths that my great-great grandparents did.

Though there were Deenys (and Deeneys) aplenty in Philadelphia and Boston during the time of my great-grandparents immigration, I have yet to find a direct link to the ones who were here before my relatives arrived.  Many of us remained in England and Ireland and some Deenys made Iowa their home. *Sidenote: I haven’t connected the Philly area Deenys to the Iowa Deenys as of yet.*

I love the language, land, and mystic history of the Celtic people though I must admit that my taste buds were the last to adjust during my trip.  I grew up with a solid pride for my Irish heritage even though I knew quite little of the country my ancestors once called home.

As Americans celebrate “St. Patrick’s Day” I join in by wearing green, listening to my favorite Celtic music, and adorning myself with a flashy shamrock necklace.  The celebration doesn’t end there, because my journey to find my Irish roots continues.  I’ve lived over thirty years as a proud descendant of Irish immigrants and know that my pride will only grow the moment I understand the ones who came before.

 

My Brave Immigrant Ancestors Sunday, Mar 9 2014 

ancestry and Family and History , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Kelly Deeny 3:20 pm

Picking up and moving from a place you call “home” to a land filled with wonder and uncertainty had to be both daunting and freeing; scary and exciting; lonely and friendship-building.  Nothing brought that idea to fruition more to me than visiting Ellis Island.

Ellis Island

During my roughly 5 years of ancestry research, I found wondrous records that provided insight into my ancestors’ lives.  How many children did they have?  Where did they live?  What were their occupations?  I started looking at them as more than just names of deceased relatives.  I wondered what sort of experiences they had and how they compared to present day. Sure, the modern word has it’s own share of joys and sorrows but so did 1899.  How did my great-great-grandmother, Elizabeth Deen(e)y, manage to raise her children after her husband died so young?  Then her five-year-old daughter, Mary, dies only a month after her husband.  The pain, grief, determination that must have swirled within her.  And that doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I yearn to know about Elizabeth Burke Deen(e)y.

As I stood in the Great Hall at the Ellis Island museum I gazed in awe at the enormity of the situation.  What entangled web of emotions did the newcomers experience?  Standing amidst a plethora of strangers all with the same hopes of a new life must have been both terrifying and comforting.  “Will they let us all in?  What kind of questions will they ask?  Will I understand what they’re asking me?  Why are they separating members of the same family?”  My heart ached just thinking of the possible scenarios my ancestors, and yours, would’ve likely encountered upon arrival.  That’s not even taking into account the image of leaving home ingrained in your memory and the long passage it took to get them to America.

I have been unsuccessful in locating the Immigration records for my Irish ancestors.  From family stories, I believe Elizabeth Burke came over first and Thomas Deen(e)y followed her, an action that was apparently quite scandalous at the time.  However, I can’t find a marriage record in either Ireland or the State for Thomas and Elizabeth.  My search continues to learn more about their lives in Ireland and when they arrived stateside.  In the meantime, they are not the only immigrants in my family tree. {2018 UPDATE: They married 1885 in Philly}

The majority of ancestors on my maternal branch emigrated from Europe, Eastern Europe to be more specific.  Some came from Germany but another lineage called Austria/Hungary/Czechoslovakia home. Helen (Helena/Ella/Ellie) was born in Sasova, Czechoslovakia in 1858.  She married and had  her first child by age twenty, remarried my great-great grandfather in 1882, and immigrated to the States around 1890 with her husband and daughter from 2nd marriage. According to the 1900 census, Ellie had 10 children but only 6 were living, five of those 6 were living with her.  While I do not have records proving or disproving that Ellie came through Ellis Island, my thinking is that regardless or where she arrived, the trepidation and motivation would have been quite similar.

My suspicion is that this was taken in her Eastern European homeland.

My suspicion is that this was taken in her Eastern European homeland.

Elizabeth and Thomas settled in Philadelphia while Ellie and John made Luzerne County, PA their new residence.  The struggles they encountered in the states (i.e. discrimination) I can only speculate about.  Despite any hurdles in the new country, were they glad they made the brave choices they did?  And, did they ever look across the Atlantic towards the land they once called home?

In contemplating the life-changing choices my immigrant ancestors made, I wonder about my own.  Would I have had the courage at such a young age to pick up and move away from a place I considered to be home?  Even if poverty, political oppression, or starvation plagued the region, would I have been brave enough to seek out a better life for myself and my loved ones?  And, if they can do it then why do so many people today agonize over moving from one state to the next given the ease of transportation and online career networking available?  I’m not claiming it would be easy in today’s time, but by standing in the Great Hall I gained some much-needed perspective.

Click here for more information on Ellis Island.

 

Deenys: So close, yet so far Thursday, Feb 13 2014 

ancestry and Travel , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Kelly Deeny 3:05 pm

A ride through Killarney

A ride through Killarney

When I found out my paternal grandmother’s maiden name was Smith, I laughed and prepared for an uphill challenge in this ancestry detective work.  A 3rd great-grandfather named John Smith, that threw me for a loop but only momentarily.  I got on that genealogy “train” and headed straight for Michigan, in computer land that is.  However, I never expected to find so many of my own surname living in close proximity.

Growing up, the only people I knew with the surname of Deeny were related to me.  In all my schooling I never once met anyone else with the same last name.  I felt unique and special in knowing that my name was different.  Not that it was easy to spell or pronounce apparently.  We frequently got “Denny” or “Deeney”, so I picked up the habit of spelling it out for the ease of both parties.  Since starting along the family history path, I’ve since learned that the Deeny name has had many spelling origins.  My great-great-grandfather, Thomas, spelled it “Deeney” – and he was the one who immigrated from Ireland sometime prior to 1886.  However, turns out the Deeny/Deeney name traces much, much further back in Ireland.  From research done by distant cousins a few generations older than me, I learned that Deeny is linked back to Dhuibhne.  I am in the midst of learning more about that connection and added Northern Ireland to my list of must-visit places.

Turns out there were many Deenys and Deeneys living in Philadelphia around the same time that my 2nd great-grandparents called Philly home.  However, connecting those Deenys with MY Deenys has proved unsuccessful.  Whether they were cousins or of no relation, I just don’t know.  In doing further research of present day Deenys, there are many of us not only in the States but a great number back across the ocean, in Ireland and England.  Thanks to the wonders of social media, I’ve found some international Deeny relations and hope one day to return back to the land my ancestors emigrated from so many years ago.

In the meantime, I’m busy tracing the lines and connecting the dots of just which Deenys are branches or leaves on my family tree!

Happy searching,

Kelly

 

Family Vacation: Take Two Monday, Jan 6 2014 

ancestry and Family and Travel , , , , , , , , , , , , Kelly Deeny 9:54 pm

My parents had a motor home when their four girls were young.  We went to Disney World numerous times, drove out to Texas to visit family (I even got to see the South Fork Ranch), and went up to New Hampshire to visit family friends.  I loved traveling in the motor home.  It was fun.  Sleeping on the top bunk, turning the dining room table into a bed at night, and watching my sisters argue.  Such fun memories!  Well, for most of us.

Sisterly Love

You guessed it…my parents didn’t find it as enjoyable of an experience as we did.  There was the time my sister rolled off the top bunk while sleeping and nearly fell on my grandmother.  Or, the time my older sister and I walked through the Disney campground and nearly got run over by another motor home driver who wasn’t paying attention.  Close quarters with four high-spirited and unique girls can rile anyone’s nerves so once we got a little older, my mom gave us a choice: get an above-ground pool in the backyard or keep the motor home.  We chose the pool, and I’m sure they got some relief.

That's more like it

Twenty some years later, my mom and I are discussing a family trip to visit some of the places I’ve been researching in my genealogy detective work.  Taking the entire family would be quite interesting and difficult to schedule since two of my sisters are married with families of their own.  I can just picture it – traveling through Czechoslovakia with 4 kids under the age of 10.  Though, it would definitely bring us full circle.  Then again, maybe we’d be better suited to go somewhere kid friendly, instead.

In the meantime, I continue with my research, jotting down the locations of interest and organizing them in order of visiting priority.  Austrian, Czechoslovakia, Germany, Northern Ireland, Scotland, Canada, Michigan, Trenton…okay, maybe not the last one.

 

Talking to Dead People Tuesday, Oct 8 2013 

ancestry and Family and Writing , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Kelly Deeny 7:21 pm

…or, Ghost Whispering – that’s what I call ancestry research.  I don’t ACTUALLY see ghosts, but I do have a strong connection to that which I deem “spiritual”.  This is not a story about spirits with a veiled mist around them or mystical figures cloaked in black robes.  Instead, I ask you to open your mind to the possibility that our ancestors are communicating with us, even if we’re not listening.  And they do so in very creative ways!

A view of Ellis Island

A view of Ellis Island

For instance, very recently I had a rather interesting writing experience.  As I sat with my pencil pressed against a beautifully designed journal, I struggled for words.  I’d been thinking a great deal about my genealogy stalemate and that could have very well prompted what followed.  I wrote about a young girl walking down a path, one which led her to a coal mine.  She was searching for her ancestor, the one who died there as a young man.  Then she asked him questions, and he responded.  The words flowed through my mind, and my pencil floated across the page.  The young girl in my story proceeded along her journey, conversing with her paternal grandmother at a Native American camp and the 5-year old version of her Irish great-great-grandmother.

When I wrote the section about my grandmother, I instantly imagined her sitting next to me.  Smiling and supporting me to keep writing.  There was even some humor intermixed in the conversation.  We didn’t communicate much while she lived, but I feel her presence more so now since her spirit vacated her body almost five years ago.  As I struggle to trace her Native American lineage, I can really use her guidance and assistance.  I may just be using my creative imagination to help me along the path.  That’s a-okay by me – if the journey is filled with intriguing paths and interesting people.

Artistry and creativity are my connection to the spiritual world, as a reminder that my goal in this life is to learn and grow.  To not remain stagnant or stuck.  The creative outlets that I consistently gravitated to these past three decades provided me solace, inspiration, and motivation.  I have no doubt the same is true now.

When I finished that writing exercise, I smiled broadly with tears in my eyes goosebumps on my arms.  I felt a comforting blend of peaceful existence and exhilaration.

I’ll keep writing my ancestor’s stories – I can only hope they keep talking!!!!

 

A small world indeed Sunday, Oct 21 2012 

ancestry and Travel and Writing , , , , , , , , , , Kelly Deeny 12:36 pm

That’s how the world seems to me when researching genealogy information.  With ancestors on both sides who immigrated I often wonder if they viewed the world the same.

I live in a suburb of Philadelphia; an area that most wouldn’t know of unless they’re from this vicinity.  So when telling people where I’m from it’s easiest simply to say “Philadelphia”.  But every time those words cross my lips I feel inclined to clarify.  As though I’m doing a dis-service to not only those who actually reside within Philly but to the town in which I live.

Along that same vein, I grew up proud to be Irish and Polish even though I was born and bred right here – in Bucks County, PA.  I’m not Irish; I’m American.  And I’m proud to have been born here.  But I also have a European connection deep down.  One that I have yet to fully comprehend.

I love to travel and have purposefully made it a goal to visit these places I’ve longed to see.  Yet, I find it rather interesting that I have this longing to one day call Europe my home.  And that doesn’t make me any less proud to be American.  It just means that there’s a very strong part of me that wants to know more about the places my ancestors once called home.

My reasons for wanting to go across the ocean may differ greatly from that of my ancestors.  Whether it was a need to escape oppression, poverty, sickness or a desire to pursue their dreams, they had to make the choice to leave their homeland.  They left all that they knew – and started anew.  Sometimes they found success, other times situations as dire as the ones they left behind.

Though they came to embrace the country in which they now resided did they ever let go of the home they once loved so?  And if they did not, then the same holds true the other way; no matter what part of the world I may reside, I’ll still be proud of the American spirit within me.

 

My Irish Ancestors are Stubborn Wednesday, Aug 15 2012 

ancestry and Writing , , , , , , , , , , , , Kelly Deeny 10:20 am

A shocking statement, I know!  But no less true.  Stubbornness is often attributed to the Irish culture though why one group of people would get that label over others I never really understood.

As a rather stubborn individual myself I used to joke that I was both a Taurus and Irish which meant I was doubly stubborn!  But in all my family history research I’ve started to re-examine my perspective on many fronts.  The Irish people have very good reason to be stubborn and the after-effects still linger in many ways.  I don’t presume to know what it was like to live there during “the troubles” or the famine.  But I can ascertain that the pain, sorrow, anger and frustration could very well still linger if not addressed within each individual.

My great, great-grandfather (Thomas Deeny) emigrated from Ireland to the United States in the late 1800s and spent the last years of his young life in Philadelphia.  Try as I have to find out exactly what port he arrived in I’ve been unsuccessful.  I did find his naturalization records but that didn’t tell me whether he came in through Boston, New York or Philadelphia.  The assumption would be Philly, since that’s where he last resided.  But…the stories passed down from my grandfather and his siblings told of the Deenys (our immediate branch) coming in through Boston.

That could very well be the case but I have not found him in any of the immigration records I’ve searched through.  Nor have I found his wife, Elizabeth.  Thomas and Elizabeth’s first child, my great-grandfather, was born in 1886 and they were already in Philadelphia by that point.  So, were they married before they left Ireland or after?  Because I haven’t found marriage records from either country yet.  Plus, to make matters even more challenging, I had no clue what Elizabeth’s maiden name was for the first two years of my research.

I had found the cemetery listing for Elizabeth, Thomas, and some of their children about a year ago.  That was my first cemetery finding and I was ec…stat…ic!  I drove to Philadelphia, found the area on the cemetery map and lo and behold, no gravestones!  Ugh.  I literally sank to my knees, cried a little then started laughing.  I made a promise right then and there that one of the first things I’d do once I published my novel would be to buy them grave markers.  There’s at least 5 people in that one plot and not one has a headstone.  As I sat on the ground looking up to the branches that swayed above me I asked Elizabeth for help.  And eventually she came thru!

I now know her maiden name was Burke and I found her parents information based off of Elizabeth’s sister’s birth record. But trying to find an Elizabeth Burke is almost just as challenging as trying to find a Deeny!

I’m still looking for birth and marriage records for Thomas, Elizabeth and their children.  Some research days are more frustrating than others but finding their history, paths and stories is a goal I highly intend on fulfilling.

I leave you with an excerpt from a letter that Elizabeth Deen(e)y wrote to tell her mother-in-law of Thomas’ death in 1899.

It is with a sad heart that I have to let you know of the death of your son.  He died on the 8th of this month and was buried on the 13th Nov.  As you were aware he has been sick this long time but we all thought he would get over it if doctors & the best of care could do anything for him.  We did not think he would die so soon but at last had to realize that it was only a matter of time…We done all that lay in our power for him but to no avail as we were told that he had cancer of the stomach and there is no cure in this world for that.

 

I Think I’m Native American, but I know I’m Irish! Monday, Jul 30 2012 

ancestry and Writing , , , , , , , , Kelly Deeny 8:43 pm

Do you have an ancestor named John Smith?  Well, I do! And trying to find him has been nothing short of a challenge.

There are stories told down the generations that shift and form with every telling. One family history story engrained on my father’s side was of a Native American lineage.  I never knew what tribe we were connected to or asked what kind of documentation he had.

I knew that my paternal grandfather had Irish roots and my grandmother Native American.  That was enough info to run with.  I had no problem identifying myself with either nationality.  In fact, I quite embraced both cultures.

Two years ago, when I started my foray into genealogy, I struggled with my dad’s ancestors.  The Irish spelled the surname multiple ways, even a generation after immigrating, and typically went by their middle names.  There are 3 generations of Michael Francis’ who all went by Frank.  So, was Frank Sr.’s father’s name actually Thomas or would his birth certificate show otherwise.  It definitely makes for  a challenging search.

However, trying to find a Jonathon Smith in the 1800s has me stumped.  I know that the Smith side of my family lived, and some still do, in Michigan but according to records John was born in NY or CT.  So I focused my attention on the women instead.  In doing so, I may very well have found the strongest connection to Native American confirmation.

I know that we come from the Potawatomi tribe and apparently my 2nd great-grandfather, a Smith, married a woman with the last name of McKenzie.  I’ve traced her family to Scotland then they moved to Canada where the Potawatomi tribe may have strong connections.

I never would’ve thought that’s where I’d find what I was looking for.  But that’s normally what happens!

NEXT WEEK:  Coal mining and trucking: Maternal side

 

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