It was the late 1800s in Ireland. Potato crops kept failing and food was scarce. Imagine being a little boy, held in your mother’s arms in the midst of a big commotion as your older brothers, just ages 16 and 17 or so, left down the narrow lane, heading for a new life in America.
Those Manley brothers ended up in Wisconsin, Alaska and Washington. They never returned to Crockawaddy Glebe and their parents never saw them again. That little boy was Thomas, my cousin Tom’s grandfather.
This is the narrow Corr’s Lane the boys traveled down. (#2 on the large map.) Roughly 150 years later and having heard that story, standing in that now-paved lane was a pretty heady experience. Imagine the hunger, the heartache, the sadness and yet the hope. Imagine fearing that the farewell was indeed the last.
I’m still piecing together the puzzle of the Manley Clan and where I fit, but from what I gather, my great-grandmother, Bridget Manley, was born at Crockawaddy Glebe. Perhaps she was sister to that little boy, Thomas. Clearly, I need to ask further questions of those that know!
That narrow lane now ends at Corr’s house, though it used to wrap around behind and all the way through to Crockawaddy. Today, the paved road disappears in the overgrowth, but a gate remains, surrounded by brush to show the old pathway.
