Monthly Archives: February 2025

My Irish Ancestry

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Dublin, Ireland

     As I have been writing this blog for eight years, I thought you might be interested in hearing about my family history. My family of origin was Carberry. Our family name was originally O’Cabri, and we were from Ireland. My family originated in Northern Ireland, in County Down Patrick, in the parish of Grossgar and Killyleach, Bally Patrick.

     Elizabeth McMullen (my paternal grandmother) was twenty-eight when she married Patrick Joseph Carberry on April 2nd, 1899. He had just turned eighteen years old. Patrick had a seventh-grade education. Elizabeth had a fifth-grade education. Frances McMullen witnessed the Marriage. They had a first child, John Henry Carberry. He was born on January 26th, 1901. The child was stillborn or died soon after birth from unknown causes. Patrick J. Carberry emigrated to the USA on May 18th, 1905, on the oceanline, The Baltic.” It landed at Ellis Island, NYC. His name is engraved on the wall of immigrants.

     At that time, thousands upon thousands of Irish emigrated to all parts of the world, including Britain, Australia, Canada, South America, and the USA. They left to escape the repercussions of the potato famine and the widespread poverty and unemployment that prevailed in Ireland and the potato famine and the widespread poverty and unemployment that prevailed since then.

     They were given $12.00, the cost of the trip to America, by the landowners and the taxpayers who were hard put to feed all the starving people in Ireland. The Irish immigrants often had to endure extremely crowded conditions in the steerage section of these ships. The majority of these passengers could described as laborers or servants without occupation. They depend upon the weather, the prevailing winds, and the quality of the ship. It was a dangerous trip. There was always a possibility of shipwreck, but disease was the greatest danger. Outbreaks of disease, especially typhus, are not uncommon. Of whom 20,000 people had died.

This is a picture of me when we were in Dublin, Ireland.

     The voyage took two months, depending on the weather, the prevailing winds, and the quality of the ship. After their arrival, they did not know if they would be allowed to stay. They often arrived only owning the clothes on their backs and what they could carry. And then they were sent on their way.

     I have not been able to establish if Elizabeth McMullen(Carberry)traveled with Patrick or came at some later date. In 1911, Patrick and Elizabeth had a second child. Hugh Henry Patrick was born on February 11th at their home at 803 North 43rd Street. His baptism was witnessed by Mary McMullen) a relative of Elizabeth.

     Patrick found employment at SEPTA as a trolley mechanic. SEPTA is the South Eastern Pennsylvania Transportation Authority, and he was a trolley mechanic. Unfortunately, Patrick died suddenly of uremic poisoning, which he had contracted as a complication of dysentery. He died on August 11, 1915, after an eleven-day hospitalization after an eleven-day at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Philadelphia. He was thirty-four years old at the time. He had no relatives in the USA. He is interred at Calvary Cemetery on 48th Street and Lancaster Avenue in Philadelphia, PA.

     Patrick was an only child with no relatives in the USA or Ireland. Hug was four years old at the time of his father’s death, and Elizabeth was forty-two. Elizabeth and Patrick had purchased a home described as small but cozy, kept clean, and well-cared for.

     Elizabeth Carberry was left a widow and a single parent. She had to provide for herself and her son. For the first year after her husband’s death, Elizabeth kept body and soul together by renting rooms to boarders but found there was little profit in it. She found employment at Horstmann’s, where she was a seamstress. She earned $10.00 a week. She kept one border. By then, her son Hugh was in second grade and was described by his teacher, Sister Leonida of St. Ignatius School, a private school, as a good boy who was especially good at math.

     Elizabeth decided that the best place for her son to receive a good education would be Girard College, a residential school for orphans or boys with one parent. This school was established in 1848. It was established by Stephen Girard, considered the richest man in America at the time of his death. The School is located on College Avenue in Philadelphia, on forty-three acres. It still exists to this day, but there are both girls and boys there at present.

Small village in Ireland

Small Village in Ireland

     My father, Hugh Carberry, passed away in 1986 at the age of 75 from lung cancer. He was one of the most intelligent people I ever knew. My parents were married in 1929. I was born in 1951. I have a twin sister and four older siblings, all older than I was. Of the remaining four, there are four of us.

     I feel blessed to have been a part of the Carberry family. My father was stricken, but I always knew he loved me. I still miss him to this day, my dear mother died one year later, in 1987 from congestive heart failure. She was the kindest and loving person I have ever known. I still miss her to this day. I couldn’t have asked for better parents. I was blessed by their presence in my life.

Adventure One, Moving to Florida and Onward

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     It was 1974, and Bob and I married on July 13th, 1974. I was twenty-three years old and recently moved to Florida to be near Bob. I had never visited Florida before and was thrilled to live in such a beautiful environment. It was so lovely, save for the overwhelming heat and humidity. It’s not that I was never exposed to humid heat; I was born and raised in Southern New Jersey. The winters were bitter and cold. Icicles hung from the roof of our house; you could ice skate on the sidewalks or the church parking lot behind our house in Maple Shade, where I grew up. I lived in it until I was twenty and decided I wanted to be independent from my parents. This is me with my first child , Jeanette

So, I decided to rent a small, one-bedroom apartment in Haddonfield, NJ. Haddonfield is a prestigious and beautiful town. I attended Saint Mary of the Angels Academy high school there. So, I was familiar with the city, and I loved it. My apartment was located two blocks from the public library. And two blocks away from downtown Haddonfield. There was only one other apartment in the building. An older woman lived there alone. I rarely saw her. Beneath the two flats was a knitting shop where the woman who rented the other apartment sold supplies for knitting, I suppose, since I never went into the shop.

One day, the woman who lived in the apartment next to me knocked at my door and told me to be on the lookout for the dentist who practiced next door to our apartment/knitting shop. I thought she was paranoid, but low and behold, she wasn’t paranoid. She told me to keep curtains on all the windows and to lock my car doors.

The next day, I sat at my tiny kitchen window and had a creepy feeling that someone was staring at me. I looked out the kitchen window, and sure enough, the creepy dentist was looking up at my window, where he could see me standing in my pajamas. Since I was from a small town, I had no idea anyone would try to steal a peak of me when I was in my abode. But, sure enough, there he was, big as life. I flashed him the one-finger salute, which I had never done before. He made a weird smile at me. I opened up the window, which was almost impossible since I nearly killed myself, trying to yank the window and yelling, “You are a freak; I’m going to call the Haddonfield police if I see you looking up here again. And I flashed him the one-finger salute again. And that was the last time I saw that freak, my friends.

Around that time, my oldest childhood friend informed me that her cousin Bob would visit her family soon. She asked me if I wanted to come and see him while he was there. I said, “Yes since I always thought he was “cute.” I went to Joan’s parent’s house, and Bob was there. The next thing I knew, Bob and I went to eat with his other cousin and girlfriend. They lived in Philadelphia. We went out a couple more times, and then he had to return to Florida, where his family lived. I wrote him letters for several months, and before I knew it, I was on my way to Florida. My friend Joanie (Bob’s cousin.) told me about an auto-train. I packed all my clothes and sewing machine and headed toward Lorton, Virginia. It was quite an experience since I had never driven farther than Philadelphia. When I arrived at the train station in Lorton, I found a public telephone and called my parents to let them know that I had arrived safely at the auto-train depot and wouldn’t arrive in Florida until early the following day.

And then I would have to follow, Bob. We arrived hours later, and I stayed overnight at his parent’s house. The next day, I went to the apartment that Bob had found for me. It was a small apartment with one bedroom, a small bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living room. Only one other tenant and the husband and wife’s apartment owned the building. They were friendly people that I only saw when my rent was due.
Meanwhile, I had to seek out employment. Bob’s cousin Margie recommended an insurance company for high-risk clients and said she would give me a reference. Sure enough, I was once again working in an insurance company. My immediate co-worker was supposed to train me, but she never got around to that. But she was a decent person. She was old, at least that’s what I thought then. Because I was only twenty-two, it was a company called B.D Cole. I worked there for a short time. I had to start looking for another job because they laid off any older or new employees. And that, my friends, was the beginning of a new peas can. So, I began searching for another job. This was when I discovered that companies in Florida at the time would only hire new employees who had lived in Florida for at least three years. So, that was a kettle of fish after looking for employment unsuccessfully. I decided to attend the West Palm Beach Beauty School. And I was accepted. It was a ten-month course. And so, I completed the course. I’m not sure why I wanted to go to a hairdressing Academy. Since I had never previously had any interest in hairstyling,

But, as push came to shove, I applied to the Beauty Academy and was accepted. It was an engaging experience. I met many lovely young people and some middle-aged students. I made a lot of friends. I had difficulty finding a job at a hair salon because of Florida law, which requires you to be a resident for three years to be hired again. This is ridiculous since most of the residents of Florida didn’t originate from Florida but from some other state.

After a month, I found a job opening on Singer Island in Florida at the Collonades Hotel. It was owned by a millionaire named McArthur—a couple named Zimmerman. I did facials. The customers were primarily wealthy visitors from Canada. And some of the wealthy occupants of the Cononades Hotel. They were friendly people. It was a good experience for me, and I made many friends. I was putting Bob through the Brooks Institute for Photography. When He graduated, we decided to move back to New Jersey. So, we began our long trek back to New Jersey and Philadelphia, where we believed there would be more job opportunities. My parents were so happy we were returning since I hadn’t seen them in five years.

Bob and I stayed at my parent’s house, my childhood home, until Bob could find a job. It turned out there weren’t any jobs in photography in the Philadelphia, New Jersey, area. So Bob found employment doing electronics at RCA in Princeton, NJ, which was a relatively long haul from Maple Shade, New Jersey. Nonetheless, he accepted the position and began working. Meanwhile, we stayed at my parent’s house until we decided we had enough money saved to put a downpayment on a small house in Pennsauken, NJ, which was only about a twenty-minute drive from Maple Shade. It was a three-bedroom house with a small kitchen, a dining room, a decent-sized living room, and a basement. We ended up living there for fourteen years. In the meantime, I had two children, three years apart. And I was busy taking care of them. Pennsauken Elementary School was only a ten-minute walk from our house when they were old enough to attend elementary school.

Temple University Philadelphia

Temple University, when I was thirty-six and graduated at 41.

When I was thirty-five, I decided I needed a higher education to make decent money, so I applied at the Hussian School of Art and Temple University in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I had to prepare a portfolio of my work and take an exam to be accepted at any higher education university. I was accepted at both schools. Temple University offered me a scholarship for the first year, so I decided to go there.

And so began my higher education. I was the only student in the first-year class of a non-traditional age; I was thirty-six, and the rest were seventeen or eighteen. I never had any problems with the students because of my age. I made many close friends over the four years that I attended Temple. I won’t lie. It wasn’t easy attending a university and juggling caring for my children, the house, the yard, etc. But I took one day at a time. I didn’t get much sleep since I had to care for my kids, clean the house, pay our bills, and take care of our front and back yard. And believe it or not, I excelled, and four years later, I graduated Suma Cum Laude with a BA with teaching credentials. Overall, it was an excellent experience, but it wasn’t easy. The day I graduated, I received a standing ovation from my fellow students. I won’t lie; I was proud of my accomplishments and looked forward to the next chapter in my life: teaching art.

After graduating from college, the next chapter in my life was finding a position teaching Art. And that was a more significant challenge than going to school. I look forward to the next chapter in my life next week, “what I had to do when I couldn’t find a teaching position in a public or private school in New Jersey or Philadelphia.

GROWING UP CATHOLIC IN THE 1950’S AND 1960’S

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     I was born in 1951; I have a fraternal twin sister. We came from a large Irish Catholic family, of which my twin sister and I were the youngest. I had four older siblings. My brother, Hugh, was twenty years older than me, and my eldest sister, Jeanette, was nineteen. My sister Eileen was eight years older than me, and my sister Elizabeth was seven years older. My mother gave birth to my twin brother several years after my twin Karen and I. Unfortunately, they were premature and didn’t survive. When I was in my late teens, my mother and father took me to the cemetery where my younger brothers were buried. I hadn’t been told about them before, and I was upset to find out my little brothers had passed away.

It wasn’t unusual for children of my generation from Catholic homes to have large families. I do not know whether this was by choice or because no birth control adequately protected mothers in those early years from unplanned or unwanted pregnancies.

My mother in the 1950’s.

However, I didn’t feel out of place since I lived in a neighborhood where most of the families were large. My parents were married in 1929, which explains why there was such a lengthy age gab between my older siblings and my twin and I. We were born in 1951, during a time when we were referred to as the Baby Boomers. After the war, there was tremendous growth in the birth of children and larger families, so large communities were formed, and small towns grew and expanded.

When I was old enough to attend elementary school in 1958, there were over sixty students in my class and three first-grade classes. My teacher was a Sister John Michael, she belonged to the Sister’s of St. Joseph. And let me tell you, she ran that first-grade class with its sixty-plus students like we were in the military. The classrooms were overcrowded and stifling in the warmer months and cold in the winter. When I was in the third grade, my classroom was situated right next to the boiler room. And let me tell you, it was hot as hell. It wasn’t easy to concentrate when you felt like you were going to pass out at any moment.

House I grew up in.

Our home in the early 1950s in Maple Shade, NJ.

In addition, since all the classrooms were overcrowded, everything was routine. We have an assigned time to go to the bathroom, and woe is the child who had problems with holding it in or intestinal issues. I was one of those unfortunate children. One day, I kept raising my hand because I had to go to the bathroom. Dear Sister John Michael ignored me as usual. So, on that particular day, I was in distress, to say the least. I was called up to the front of the class to work out a problem on the blackboard; I tried to explain to Sister John Michael that I had to go. But she ignored me completely, so while I was trying to complete the math problem, I had an accident and peed my pants. I forgot to mention that Catholic School Uniforms were made of heavy wool: winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall. As I stood in my puddle, all the students laughed as they observed my accident. Sister John Michael smacked me hard, and yelled at me in front of the whole class. I tried not to cry, which would only call more attention to myself, and Sister John Michael told me to go to the girl’s laboratory and clean myself up. When the lunch bell rang. I was the first one in line. Students living nearby were allowed to go home for lunch and then return to school to finish the day off.

When I arrived home for lunch, we lived only two houses away from the school, and my mother could see I was crying. It took a while for my mother to get me to tell her what happened in school. She said she was going up to the school and giving Sister John Michael a piece of her mind. My mother rarely lost her temper or raised her voice, so I kept begging her not to go to school since I believed Sister John Michael would be angry if my mother criticized her for anything.

After that unfortunate event, I refused to drink anything at breakfast before I went to school. Since, I couldn’t bare a repeat of the previous event. Although this must seem such a meaningless event that was soon forgotten, I can tell you I never forgot it, Or I wouldn’t be able to tell you about this unfortunate event. The nuns left their mark on me for sure; that made a big impression. By the luck of the Irish, my third-grade teacher was a lay female teacher, whose name was Miss Norris, and she turned out to be the polar opposite of the “dear nuns” that I had up to that point in my academic career. Under her tutelage, I bloomed. She never yelled at the students, called them stupid, or smacked the student’s palms with metal-edged rulers. She was calm and never said a harsh word Or called any student a mean name. As a result, the classroom and the students in it maintained themselves and didn’t fight, argue, or carry on.

As for me, I began feeling more confident in myself and my ability to do better in school. I opened up to the other students and made many friends during that year and the ensuing years through eighth grade. At this point, the students in the eighth grade, which included me, had to decide what Catholic high school we wanted to attend. We all had to take entrance exams before we were accepted into High School. By some miracle, I passed both exams and was accepted into both Catholic High Schools. My parents decided for my sister and me to attend Saint Mary of the Angel’s Academy, which coincidentally was an all-girl high school and was located in Haddonfield, New Jersey and was a town where most of the residents were wealthy, which was a whole different environment from Maple Shade where I lived. There weren’t wealthy people living there. My parents struggled to have their children attend private Catholic Schools.

St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy was a different kettle of fish from Our Lady Of Perpetual Elementary School. Everyone in Maple Shade was working, living in smaller homes, and not having much money. Most parents both worked full-time. My mother worked and cared for the house, as did my siblings and me. I never heard a word of complaint from her, not ever. My mother was the kindest, most decent woman I ever knew. I feel blessed to have such a wonderful mother. My father worked hard and often had two jobs to make ends meet. I feel blessed that I had two such wonderful souls for my parents. I never went without. We had homemade dinners every night of the week. And there was always food in the fridge. I never lacked anything. We had all our needs met throughout my childhood and my adolescence.

St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy- All girl highschool

When I graduated from St. Mary of the Angel’s Academy, I found employment at a dentist’s office in Haddon Township, New Jersey. I had no experience working in an office, let alone a dentist’s office, but Dr. Wozniak trained me. His office was part of his house. And so I came t know his decent and kind wife, Connie. I worked there for five years until I met my now husband when he was visiting his cousins in New Jersey. He was living in Florida. And that, my friends, is a whole new story about my experiences living in Florida and then, later, California.