Ireland
Ireland has never been at the top of my bucket list. The idea of copious amounts of rain, cold beaches, and bland food made Brasil, Thailand, and Colombia all the more appealing. I never put much stock into returning to my ancestors' homeland.
Shame on me.
I hadn’t ever imagined what it would feel like to receive a hug from my grandmother’s first cousins, to share a pint (cider, of course) and map out our family tree, to realize we share mannerisms, aspirations, and hobbies.
In middle school, I did a family tree, and the idea of time felt soooo much more distant. I had it in my mind that my maternal grandmother’s family immigrated from Ireland to the United States sooooo long ago. I did that childhood thing where you completely rewrite history. I arrived to Dublin thinking my family immigrated well before the Great Famine, sometime in the 1800s….
Welp, I was wrong.
Grandma above (in the ~1970s) and me emulating her flare below.
My maternal grandmother, Ann, my middle name namesake, my Aries queen, and fierce badass, was the first generation born in the United States. Turns out the name Ann originated from my great-great-grandmother and was passed down to my grandmother, my mom, and me—plus many other American and Irish cousins.
So here is what I’ve learned over a pint. My grandma’s dad, Johnny (great-grandpa), was the firstborn son of a massive family that included Martin, Chris, Michael “Mick,” James, and Michael, plus the twins and only daughter who passed away early in life.
Johnny traveled back to Ireland a few times in ~1950 and again in ~1968 to visit his parents and brothers. And a few times, his nephews and nieces came to visit the US and the “American” family. Even wilder, when my mom was traveling in Europe in the 1970s with her sister Dawn, they stayed with our cousins, Aine (pronounced “Anya”) and Sheevaun. So my mom got to reconnect with them and reminisce about her last visit to Ireland - a little over 50 years ago.
It was surreal to learn about my family’s history from my grandmother’s cousins and to feel such a connection to people I met in 2025 – nearly a hundred years after my great-grandfather set sail for the United States.
Irish families have a deep love of family and history. I am forever grateful that they knew so much more about my great-grandfather and could share it with me.
While it feels a bit embarrassing and disconnected, I’m mostly in awe of my great-grandfather's courage to venture across a vast ocean and build his own lineage. And what a strange, beautiful, and full circle moment that some Chicagoans and New Mexicans were in Dublin, visiting my sister, who navigated the immigration process to live and work in Ireland.
Even better was visiting the cultural center in Cobh and walking the same halls where my great-grandfather boarded a ship to the U.S. along with so many other immigrants.
I was emotional walking into the building. I excitedly shared with the ticket counter folks that I was here to do some research into my great-grandfather. They pointed me in the right direction and wished me luck.
I used their ancestry software to search for any type of public records — passenger lists, birth certificates, and marriage certificates. I had some strong info from my cousins, but there’s no guarantees.
I was getting down and out when I kept getting the “no records found” response. Plus, reading up on a building fire that destroyed many records in Ireland. I got a second wind after reading this sign next to the computer.
This sign re-energized me when searches kept coming up unknown.
After I had a good cry, I expanded my search to include any U.S. records…..
AND (Irish) luck would have it that I found the ship manifest. My great-grandfather was the first on the list.
21 years old. $50 in his pocket. Entering by way of Ellis Island with a final destination of Chicago! I dug deeper to make sure it was the correct John. And found several census records identifying him. I was certain it was him when I saw my grandma’s name listed as one of the children :) That’s when the tears started. It felt magical to be connected to him in a place he once called home.
My great-grandfather, Johnny, left home (Mullinahone, Tipperary) in 1926 and caught the S.S. Cedric ship from Cobh to Ellis Island. That means he lived through a significant Irish history, the Irish War of Independence, the Partition of Ireland, and the subsequent Irish Civil War. Over 3 million Irish people left through Cobh between 1815 and 1970 (also where the Titanic set sail BEFORE he left. Just saying, courageous).
I did not expect the serious *rolling tears* when I shared this news with the front desk staff. It was a sweet human moment when one of them also started tearing up, passed over some tissues, and gave my hand a big squeeze.
The beauty in our shared humanity. The shared impact of immigration, someone setting off to parts unknown, looking to build a different life, and those you leave behind buoying you with love from afar.
What a necessary reminder of this overlapping history of immigration all over the world across generations. The movement of people is nothing new.
The sightseeing, food, and people are incredible, and the country is stunning. For me, getting to hug, kiss, and hold the hands of my first cousins thrice removed, PLUS find so much out about my great-grandfather, was the surprise bingo card of 2025.
I can’t wait to stay in touch and come back to visit again soon, and meet the rest of the Cody Clan.
