Cabra History.Com

‘This photo of my parents was taken in Talbot Street in the early 1950’s. They were married in 1938. In 1941 they had three young children. Work was very scarce back then and my father found it very hard to get a job. He eventually got six months work digging ditches and laying pipes in Stillorgan, miles from where they lived on Summerhill. The poor Da’ had to walk to work everyday. My mother would sometimes bring his dinner out to him, she’d wrap up the little ones and pile them into the pram and off they’d go, walking out to the countryside of Stillorgan from Summerhill.

They had so little money to live on that my father approached his Parish Priest for a letter for help from the Saint Vincent de Paul. The priest told him that he would call around to see his tenement room and assess his needs. My father rushed home and told my mother that the Parish Priest was calling. She tidied up their room for his visit. When he saw the place clean and tidy he told my father that he didn’t think they were in need and walked out.

My father ran after the priest for an explanation but the oul priest refused to speak to him. My father told the priest that he would go to the Protestants for help. Within an hour two men from the “Vincent’s” called to see my parents and gave them some kind of help. My mother told me that she was fuming at my father for going to the Parish Priest in the first place, she said she’d rather starve than go begging to the priest, she was a fierce independent woman.

The coat my mother is wearing in this photograph was secondhand, my mother added a piece onto the bottom of the coat so that it would fit her. The photo was taken by a street photographer. They were on their way to visit my father’s youngest sister and her family in her flat in Sheriff Street.

I remember one time in particular when a priest came to our house collecting his Easter Dues. He never looked at or spoke to my mother. He only addressed my father before putting his hand out for money. At that time my parents had at least ten children and could ill afford to be giving money away. The priest stood with his back to my mother while he spoke to my father. My mother had no time for the clergy. She refused to be “Churched” after having a baby when my father told her that the priest said it was a sin to get pregnant and he should tell it in Confession. She told me she was fuming over that.

Like so many other parents, mine had it very tough in their early years of marriage. Always making and mending, never throwing anything out, hand-me-down clothes and shoes were the norm. Reaching out and helping neighbours who were less well off than themselves. We’d sometimes wake up in the morning to find a neighbours child sleeping in beside us, their poor mother might have been taken into hospital during the night. And that’s the way it was back then, nobody looking for medals or praise for helping out when the need arose. My parents eventually had 15 children…’