How I found my family in the 1911 census

There is no lovelier joy than finding my long dead family members, and to find them forever young

The mystery of why some held an “unmatching” name to their parents or siblings are innocently laid bare, for example, and when the name of Molly Sutton had a thin line drawn through it, and replaced with another surname, we know a closely guarded secret is being shyly admitted to.

Nicknames I remembered from childhood came to mind upon coming across a family associated with the mischievous addition. Nicknames were never friendly, I recall, and were more of a slur.

But they are fondly brought to mind now, many years removed from when they were a barb meant to be painfully stung by.

All those long ago old ghosts and friendly shadows are still everywhere around me, and I welcome them, not ready for them to leave, and hoping they'll stay.

These were people whose own family members would have been close to the history of the Famine, and indeed many of those listed had themselves survived its horrors of hunger and disease, as children.

Finding my grandfather

I had arrived at “K” in the list of streets, and came across "Knocknamuck" (Hill of the Pigs), and chuckled at the idea of the relentless ribbing for anyone who lived there.

This area is part of Church Road, which is on a hill, but as can be imagined, someone took offense at being saddled with such a hilarious address, and it was quietly abandoned over time. One never hears the name now.

It was here on the hill, when I clicked on the surname Sullivan, that my dearly departed made themselves known to me.

I was quite stunned at that precise and precious moment, and to my surprise my first reaction was to shed a tear upon reading my grandfather's name. He was someone, after all, and here he was.

He was 50-years-old and he could read and write, it said so there on the carefully filled out form. And he was a "general laborer.”

I felt proud to read his own fine handwriting. He was alive at a time when despite hardship and deprivation, great importance was placed on being educated in the three Rs.

His wife, Mary, was 44, and I remember her coming to live with us for a few years when she was very old, and she died in 1954.

She was from Whiddy Island in Bantry Bay, and I love the idea of having “double” island blood in me. She could read and write, too.

They had four sons, Connie, who was 12, my father, John (Jack), 11, James, nine and Michael, eight. They were down as "scholars" and could read and write, also.

Well done, lads.

O'Sullivan vs. Sullivan

I must add here that my search began by looking for O'Sullivan, and when this trawling was unsuccessful, I included Sullivan in my quest.

My father never used the Ó in his name, but all of his four children have Ó Sullivan on our birth certs.

I feel this came about because of an unspoken command to be seen to be Catholic, and the Ó holds this strange connection.

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