*
Daniel’s wedding caused a big stir that day, even though he hadn’t turned it into a show business affair by inviting lots of stars. Hundreds of his devoted fans came along to the little churchyard and waited patiently in the rain to see the happy couple. The wedding Mass was very long, but they still kept a vigil out in the cold and the rain. There were photographers peeping out from behind headstones in the graveyard, and later I was told that Sky News had been broadcasting live from outside our church. You’d think it was a royal wedding it got so much attention.
As Daniel and Majella and the rest of the guests travelled in a convoy that evening from Kincasslagh to the town of Letterkenny, where the wedding reception was to be held in a local hotel, bonfires were blazing along the route and locals braved the heavy rain in honour of the happy couple. It was really lovely to see how much people still cared for Daniel in his home county. I was very proud; it lifted my spirits because I was feeling very poorly on the journey due to the bug I’d picked up. All I wanted to do at that moment was to get into a nice, comfortable bed.
At the hotel I could see that Daniel and Majella had put a lot of thought into their big day. The flowers in the banquet room were just beautiful, and people stood to admire the wedding cake. Our neighbour Eileen Oglesby, who had introduced Daniel to the Romanian charity, had made the cake. It was designed like a fountain and was a real work of art. It was a shame to slice it up.
Later, during the reception, Daniel made a wonderful speech, and if I had any doubts about his feelings towards me, well, he put them to rest when he spoke that evening. I cried over his beautiful words when he said, ‘I was six when my father died and from then on my mother has been everything to me. She never let me feel that I needed anything I couldn’t get. She gave me security, she gave me love, and she gave me encouragement to sing. When I started singing I was always going to tell the world how wonderful she was, and she will always be that same person, that wonderful woman who was such an influence in our lives.’
Today, I am the happiest mother and mother-in-law alive. Any concerns I had about Majella at the beginning have been put to rest. She has been good for Daniel. I think she is great. Majella has given Daniel a wonderful life away from the stage. They are a happy couple who enjoy their time together. It is so lovely to see him settled and content.
Majella is very good to me too, and we are the best of friends. I even gave her the secret recipe for my famous pancakes. That’s something I never gave another person, so I suppose that says a lot about our relationship and what I think of her. Daniel joked in an interview one time, ‘When I saw my mother teaching Majella how to make pancakes, I knew she was ready to let go.’
chapter fifteen
* * *
That’s Life
THEY SAY YOU have to experience the bad times to appreciate the good ones. As I sit here today looking out over the rugged coastline of Donegal and reflecting on times past, a golden ray of sunlight shining through the window of my room, I realize how true that is. I thought when Francie died that I wouldn’t be able to carry on in this world without that wonderful man in my life. I thought that was the end of my life and my happiness. It seems a lifetime ago that Francie was taken from me. It’s a long time to have to live on memories. And nothing will ever take that sadness out of my life. It will remain with me until the day I die. I loved my husband more than I can ever express on paper. Sometimes when I sit at home alone I keep thinking what he would be like if he had lived. Would he look much older? My tears fall at the very thought of him being here with me, and of the happy times I would have if we were still together. The only consolation I have is that I know he’s in a happy home with God. But never a day passes that I don’t think of him and wish that God could have spared him.
Life can beat you up if you let it. But a sense of duty can turn you into a fighter. I was left behind with the enormous responsibility of having to rear and watch over a family. In that situation I didn’t have any other choice but to put my heartache and my worries aside and get on with the job. Humans are truly wonderful beings really. We are a lot stronger than we give ourselves credit for. It’s only when life tests us that we realize just how good we are at meeting those challenges. And, for me, having my religion and my faith in God was my greatest source of strength. It got me through many a dark hour and day. I also prayed to Francie to give me the strength to carry on, and I know he was with me as the years rolled along.
Although God closed an enormous door when he took Francie away, he opened up so many other doors to me. I’ve seen my children grow up, leave the nest and go out in the world to make lives of their own. Here I want to tell them how much I love them and how blessed I feel to have reared such fine people. They have come through all of life’s struggles, and I am proud of every single one of them. I love them dearly, and I’m so lucky to have them in my life.
The first of my family to get married was John Bosco to Bridget, and the night before his big day he wrote me a note telling me what time to call him that morning. Believe it or not, I still have that little note from 21 October 1975. I treasure those last few lines John Bosco wrote to me as a single man.
James was the next to marry. He wed Eileen on 23 October 1976, at the age of 18. Even though he’s been in Dublin from the age of 14, James has never forgotten his dear old mother. He keeps in touch with me and he gives me good laughs. He’s a very comical fellow. He’d often come up to Donegal to visit me without warning. I’d go into my bedroom and he’d be lying in the bed under the covers, and then he’d jump up and give me a fright. It was always a nice surprise for me. That’s James’s sense of humour.
One time somebody asked James, ‘What’s it like to have a famous brother?’
James replied, ‘I don’t know; you’d better ask Daniel.’ He has done very well for himself in Dublin, where he is one of the owners of a famous pub called Cassidy’s on Camden Street. I’m always very happy to see him, even if it’s only for a few hours.
My daughter Kathleen married John Doogan on 28 April 1979. Kathleen and John have always been very good to me. We’ve shared the same home, and I’ve had happy times in that family. So, Kathleen and John, it’s something I really do appreciate.
I have seen Margaret and Daniel become famous and celebrated around the world as popular singers. Fans often said to me, ‘You must be the proudest mother in the world.’ I’m reluctant to say that I’m a proud woman, even though I’m delighted with everything they have achieved, but I know that anything they got, they got from God. Their voices, those are a gift from God. Margaret and Daniel went on to give me a wonderful gift by bringing me into their worlds. That gave me experiences in life that I never dared to imagine.
John Bosco, Kathleen and James have also given me another wonderful gift – grandchildren. And I adore them all. There’s John’s sons, Frankie and Joey; James’s sons, Paul and Christopher, and his daughter, Margaret; and Kathleen’s children, John Francis, Patricia, Fiona and Daniel. There is nothing more precious in the world than children and grandchildren.
And now I’m even a great-grandmother.
In October 2005, I was sitting in a well-positioned balcony seat looking out over the audience who were enjoying one of Daniel’s greatest shows at the Point Theatre in Dublin. I had one of the best views of the stage, and it was one of those special nights I didn’t want to end. I was watching Daniel’s dream come to life. He had created a big rock ’n’ roll show. It was no ordinary concert – this was a big musical, and Daniel was the star as well as the person who had dreamed it up and brought it to life right there before my eyes. He had never done anything like this before, but you wouldn’t have known it that night. He had everything on the stage, including a Cadillac and an American diner. At times I thought I was watching a movie. It was just spectacular, and it was being filmed for PBS television in America.
When the interval came round and the lights went up, I thought I couldn’t handle any more excitement.
I could see by the expressions on the faces of Kathleen and Margaret that they were just as thrilled. They were chatting excitedly among themselves, and I thought they were discussing the show. Then Margaret whispered in my ear and what she told me brought an even bigger smile to my face. I got the best news ever; I had just become a great-grandmother. My grandson Frankie and his lovely wife, Lisa, had just become parents for the first time. Lisa had given birth to a lovely little daughter they called Sarah.
When Frankie was born I became a grandmother for the first time. Now he has made me a great-grandmother by bringing little Sarah into this world. It seemed like it was only yesterday that Frankie was just a child himself. He used to come over to me every weekend and how I loved those visits.
I recall how one time I took Frankie over to a nearby lake to show him a family of swans that were swimming gracefully by the shore. I brought a little bag of bread with me for Frankie to feed them. Then I sat on a hill and took out my knitting while he went down to the lake to throw the bread out to those beautiful birds. It was quite shallow by the shore, so I didn’t have any major concerns about him being down there on his own. Somebody had left a wee, tin boat and nets by the side of the lake, and he began to play with them. I continued knitting and felt proud looking at Frankie having all that fun.
Just as I was enjoying the moment I saw Frankie slip and fall into the water. He got such a shock that he jumped up and ran up to me in floods of tears.
‘Look what you did to me, Granny! I’m all wet and I’ll be killed by Mammy,’ Frankie wailed.
‘Don’t you worry, Frankie, I’ll take you home and we’ll dry your clothes,’ I said, trying to calm him down.
So off home we went, Frankie shuffling along in his wet gear, sobbing his little heart out. When we reached home, I put on a big fire and took off Frankie’s clothes and hung them to dry. As soon as they were ready, I helped him to dress again and prepared him for home.
‘Don’t tell your mammy and she’ll not know a thing. Then she won’t give out to you at all,’ I said before he left.
That night when his mother, Bridget, was taking off his clothes, she asked, ‘Frankie, did anything happen to you today?’
‘No,’ he replied.
‘Well, your vest is turned a different way to the way I put it on this morning,’ Bridget pointed out.
Frankie then confessed all, so I was caught out!
And now he has a child of his own, and he loves that wee Sarah. We all do.
Great-grandmother: I never thought I would see that day. It makes me sound awfully old, but I suppose it’s about time I realized that I am what they call an old person. It’s a description that doesn’t sit easy with me. In my own mind I’m still a teenager racing around Owey Island. The old legs don’t carry me as far or as fast these days, but the mind is still young. Does everyone of my vintage feel like that? I wonder. I believe they probably do. It’s what keeps us going and up with the times.
*
Now that I’m in my twilight years my thoughts often wander back over my life, and it lifts my heart to think that I haven’t got an enemy in the world, at least none that I know of. There is no person out there that I have a grudge against, and I don’t think there’s anyone who bears ill will towards me. And that is a good feeling.
It’s lovely to bump into people unexpectedly and to have them remind you of some good event in the past. I recall how one day I was travelling back to Donegal on the bus from Dublin and we stopped off in Cavan for a break at a local café. When I stepped inside the door I met Charlie Boyle, who used to be a teacher on Owey. That was at that time when my mother used to make a pot of cocoa and leave it in the hot ashes by the fire for us to have when we were going to bed. Every night during the week Charlie would drop in to have a cup of cocoa and share crab toes with us. When I went into the café in Cavan that day, Charlie was there with his lovely wife. We reminisced over old times – and he treated me to tea and scones as a little thank-you for my mother’s hospitality. It was a lovely moment for me.
I know too that the times have changed for the better in a lot of respects. Work isn’t such a hardship any more for the young or even the old – well, in this part of the world anyway. And that’s a good thing. Even though I’m not ashamed of where I came from and have no regrets, I wouldn’t like to see my grandchildren having to do the kind of work I did when I was young. Young people in general today have a nice life, but I wonder: do they appreciate it? And when I see so many going off the rails, I wonder: are they really better off today in some ways? In my young days you wouldn’t dare speak back to your mother or father, or any of your elders, because you knew that you’d feel a sally rod across your legs. And that would be the last time you’d do it. Thank God I never spoke back to my parents. I respected them as parents should be respected – and I was spared the sally rod!
Now that my parents are gone, I pray for them every night. And I pray for my brothers, James and Edward, who died in recent years. I pray a lot these days, and I don’t forget anyone who is ill. I think you should always remember the people who are suffering or in pain. They all need prayers. People of today don’t pray enough. When we were young, you were made to go on your knees as soon as you got out of your bed to say your prayers, and the same at night before you went to sleep. You said your prayers and a rosary every night with all of the family present. Where did all those religious customs go?
When someone died on the island of Owey, people sat up all night at the wake, and candles burned day and night. It concerns me that it’s not like that today. Nowadays the lights and the candles go out at midnight, and no one keeps a vigil out of respect for the body in the coffin. When I die, I hope that the lights don’t go out. I want people to be with me for my last two nights at home. So many traditions, religious and otherwise, are no longer observed today.
For all the downs that I’ve had with my husband not being around, and the loneliness I’ve experienced as a widow, there have been more ups. I know in my heart and soul that God has been more than good to me and that I’ve been more fortunate than most. I’ve seen the world and met all kinds of wonderful people, and to this day I am in contact with people from all corners of the globe, fans of Daniel. There’s hardly a day goes by that the postman doesn’t drop cards or letters through my door from some of Daniel’s fans.
On my last birthday I got 126 cards from Daniel’s fans all round the world. And many, many parcels of gifts arrived at my door. I couldn’t reply to them all, so I’ll do my thank-yous here and now. I love the fact that at my age I still have a connection with so many people. It keeps me going. I am blessed that I’m not hidden away and forgotten. I am still getting great enjoyment out of life through Daniel and the rest of my lovely family.
I thank God that things turned out so well for them. We struggled along through the hard times and we kept in close contact. My family are all able to do their own thing now, and I keep an eye on them. I suppose I will always know that I’m an influence in their life, and I hope they listen to me when I try to keep them doing good. But I have no problems with anything any more. All is going according to plan for me and them, and we get on well together. It’s a happy family, and what more could I ask for?
So, when my thoughts wander back to yesteryear, I think of the hard times and the sad times and so many happy times.
It’s what we call life.
And that was my life.
My little piece of heaven on earth. These views of beautiful Owey Island bring joy to my heart.
My island home...
...is derelict now, which saddens me.
My parents James and Margaret McGonagle, pictured in 1959.
Here I am, aged 17, (back row extreme right) with the tattie howkin’ girls in Scotland.
While sifting through a box of old photographs for my book, I found this rare portrait taken in my early 20s. Little did I know then where life was going to take me.
I was the happiest woman in the worl
d when Francie O’Donnell came into my life. He was a fine, handsome man, and here we are pictured together in 1948, the year we were married.
A treasured Christmas greeting from Francie.
A treasured Christmas greeting from Francie.
With my baby daughter, Margaret, at my parents’ house on Owey.
Happy times with Francie and our children John Bosco and Margaret.
My youngest son, Daniel, aged 1.
Bathing my baby daughter Margaret. There were no mod cons in those days!
John Bosco grew up to be a strong and healthy child, despite being born prematurely.
A smartly dressed John Bosco on the day of his First Communion, with Kathleen and Margaret.
Daniel, aged 7, on the day of his First Communion in 1968.
A visit to Francie’s grave on the day of Daniel’s Confirmation in 1972.
Granny McGonagle (my mother) with Margaret and Daniel.
One of my favourite photographs of Margaret as a young woman.
Margaret became a household name in Ireland with The Keynotes.
She was only a wee child when she joined the band.
God blessed my Daniel with the gift of a lovely singing voice. Now he has fans all over the world.
Even on Days when it Rains Page 17