[2021-03-17] Reflecting on the past
St. Patrick's Day seems to be a fitting day on which to reflect on my roots. While I'm only one-eighth Irish (my great grandmother was from Dublin), I've always felt an affinity to the Irish. Perhaps that's because I grew up in a predominantly Irish Catholic community—Ferguson Falls in Lanark County. Not surprisingly, the church in Ferguson Falls was named after Ireland's patron saint. St. Patrick's Church was erected in 1856 on a hill overlooking the village.
I have many memories of going to church at St. Patrick's. Mass was at 7:30 on Saturday evenings. The church had neither heating nor air conditioning, so it was used in the summers only. Weather permitting, the windows were opened wide, letting in all the sounds and smells of the church's rural surroundings. We would often hear cattle bawling in the field across the road from the church, competing with the sometimes over enthusiastic ringing of the bells by a mischievous altar boy. The smell of hay and manure wafted through the windows, mingling with the scent of lilacs or peonies or whatever flowers parishioners had brought to decorate the church.
As we got older, we often walked to mass on a beautiful Saturday evening, as we lived only a kilometre from the church.
Once every summer, we celebrated the Cemetery Mass. This was an occasion to remember all the people buried in the cemetery beside the church, which was filled with the names of Irish settlers, some born as far back as the late 1700s. I loved the Cemetery Mass, as it was followed by desserts and coffee made by the women of the parish; my favourite was raspberry dream bars. It was a wonderful opportunity to visit with neighbours.
Another location where residents of the village and surrounding farms gathered was the Ferguson Falls Hall, located down the hill from the church, on the other side of the Mississippi River. We had many events in that tiny hall: wedding showers, euchre tournaments, potluck suppers.
My favourite occasions were the Christmas concerts. Every such concert included fiddle and harmonica music, step dancing, skits, and Christmas carols. One year, a group of us kids sang the "12 Days of Christmas." One of my brothers was assigned "three French hens" but clearly did not relish the role. Every time we got to his part in the song, there was an unmistakable pause until one of my siblings would elbow my brother and he would reluctantly cluck "three French hens." This had the packed house roaring with laughter.
Whenever an event occurred at the hall, I would call it "a big shingding down at the Falls." It wasn't until I went to university and used the expression "shingding" with a friend that I learned that I had been mispronouncing "shindig" all my life. Oh bother!
Coincidentally, today's entry in A Year of Positive Thinking is about remembering that our past has brought us to our present. Author Cyndie Spiegel writes:
Make peace with your past: it showed you who you are. Every experience you've had before this moment created the beauty that is you. Accept that. Love yourself for all that you've become, but don't ever forget who you once were.
Because of my rural beginnings, I've always felt like a simple girl from the country—no better than anyone else. Occasionally, I've been embarrassed by an expression I've misused or a cultural reference I didn't get, but for the most part, I've appreciated the humility that growing up in the country instilled in me.
Whether you're all Irish, a little Irish or not Irish at all, use today to reflect on your past and how it has helped you to become the incredible person that you are.
