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Rootsweb sent me this story
This was sent me by Rootsweb and it struck me as how un-normal cousin-hunting can be in Indian country. Here if you showed up on somebody’s doorstep wondering if you were a cousin, they’d worry you were just some interloper trying to get cut in on government benefits, or some other warped trip. Nice to get centered with this story.
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LUCK OF THE IRISH
by Denise Darting
My husband and I were able to go to Ireland for the first time a couple of years ago. I was thrilled as I had been researching my Irish roots for a while and thought how great it would be to go there and find the town my family had lived in. We landed in Shannon, got our car and headed straight for County Leitrim. I knew my great-great-grandparents, Patrick and Bridget (REILLY)BAXTER lived in Mohill Parish and a townland called Drumboy, but as I could not find anything on Drumboy I figured it did not exist anymore. We found the town of Mohill and drove all around hoping to find Drumboy but with no luck. So we drove a little more and went to Ballinamore to the historical society. The historical society gave us a map with the townland listed on it and I was thrilled to find that it did still exist. We drove back the same way and followed that map and ended up on a little short road on which we drove up and down thinking we had missed something. As we drove up the road a gentleman waved at us, but I was afraid to ask anybody questions, so we left.
We went back to Mohill and behold, right in the middle of town was a grocery called BAXTERS. My husband gave me a push and away we went. Unfortunately, those Baxters were from England but they told us to visit a Mr. BAXTER just up the road. I am not one to knock on doors and bother people. My husband gave me another push and there I was knocking on a stranger’s door and thinking I wanted to run for the hills. Mr. BAXTER came to the door and was more than happy to answer my questions, to my relief. He did not know of my family but said he knew of a Mr. Ward who was related to some BAXTERS in Drumboy. Drumboy, I wanted to shout, that’s them! He told me where I could find Mr. Ward and with much hand shaking and profuse thanks my husband and I left.
We stopped at the cattle barn where Mr. Ward works, but he was not there right then as he was going to a wedding that day. The lady who was there offered to call him and when she got him on the phone she explained there was a woman from the U.S.A who was looking for descendants of the BAXTERs. He talked to me on the phone and after finding out that we were related (I behaved myself and didn’t jump up and down like an idiot) said, “Stay there. I am on the way.” He arrived at the barn and was just as thrilled to meet me as I was him. It seemed that Patrick’s and Bridget’s son, Michael BAXTER, married Kate WARD, and that is how we were connected. Then he asked if we had been driving up and down a street earlier. We told him yes and what we were looking for and would you believe it, he was the man we had waved at. He said he went in and told his wife that this blue car he saw was going to haunt him.
He had to be at a wedding in an hour but was determined that my husband and I follow him to Drumboy and meet the family. We drove up and he parked in front of a beautiful cottage and right across the street was what I had been waiting years to find — the 200+ years old homestead of my great-great-grandparents. It is used as a shed now but the stable still houses a couple of horses. Mr. Ward, Sam by now, let me go into the old house and it was like stepping into another time. I could almost hear the voices of my family. The WARD family was late for the wedding, but it was a visit to remember. We have since been back and had another great visit and plan to see them again next year. Anyone doing research in Ireland can visit the historical societies, but the answers are in the people if you are just wise enough to ask.
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Though I have to admit, any Eastern Siouan people I’ve yet encoutered, the possibilities of ties between us is welcome and treasured. Come to think of it, this is the most on-a-wave-length group I’ve come across since college days. All the more remarkdable since hardly any of us know more than one or two of the others, and we’re scattered all over.
Mecou, I wanted to get some input on this one. I had a strange dream yesterday. I dreamed I was at a school. For some reason we all had to leave and so we began counting everyone. There was a book that we used to write everyone down in and at the top of the pages was Edgecomb County, N.C. and a name LAN—–? Lunsteey. Then I remember we were on a school bus. Before we left two sisters came on. One was about 8 and the other was about 6. I notice them speaking Cherokee and so I started talking to them in Cherokee. We had a conversation. Then I woke up. My first feeling was that what we were saying was important but can not remember what we said. The next thing that came to mind was a bit of information I recieved some time back. I had inquired about a Cherokee named Ruth Johnson. She was born about 1908 and has a roll number. She was adopted by a Morris family. My Great Grandmothers’ name was Ruth Armilda Johnson but she was born in 1881. Her and her sister Malinda were very close and always associated with one another. My dads’ mother has a Morris family in it. Now I have not even thought about that in years. Any way is there or was there an Indian school in Edgecomb County, N.C.? Bila huk, Cotton Top
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