Ireland, 1891 (2)

Nobody knew about it, nobody expected it, he just went to work one morning and didn’t come back. Mother thought he had just forgotten the time whilst drinking with his friends at the pub, but when he still wasn’t there the next morning and when we saw a huge grey cloud of smoke, we figured it out. Since then, mother has never really been the same again, but who can blame her? My father had always been a very modern man, which is why he believed factory work to be superior to tending to our crops and livestock in the first place. Mother, on the other hand, had always been a firm believer in the tradition of farming, she claimed that it had worked for the generations that came before her and would therefore also work for us. And at first, we thought she was right and we would get by with only her, Hugh, and me working on the farm and no additional money from the factory, but the first winter proved us wrong. A quarter of our pigs died because we didn’t have enough potatoes in storage and the cows were too meager to produce milk as well. It was a hard winter, I have to tell you that. But we made it through and now I’m sitting on my bed writing into my beautiful new diary and I promise to keep you updated on everything! Goodnight, dear diary!

Dear Diary, 14th of September 1891

It has been two days since we last talked and it still hasn’t stopped raining. However, since it was already September, mother told us that we would have to start harvesting our potatoes because they were going to rot and we needed the food for us and the animals now. We’ll be out all day later in this horrible weather, I fear one of us will catch a sickness… Hugh is not really in easing the pressure around the house these days either. He keeps going on about how all these problems we’re facing signify a “backward development” of society whatever that is supposed to mean…Like this, he reminds me of dad in many ways. They both talked a lot about politics and often dropped the name America, a mystery land, where everyone was equal and free, as I have understood. Back when dad was still with us, he used to read stories from the newspaper to us that he picked up out of some city houses’ trash on his way home from work. He almost exclusively brought home the “Cork Examiner” since it was good business for them to publish the success stories of Irish immigrants in America and dad loved to imagine our family amongst those emigrants. But I guess when God took dad to heaven, we all (except for Hugh) pushed these thoughts to the back of our minds in attempt not to think too much about Dad’s death. Hugh however, I think, really believes life would be so much better over there, in America. Personally, though, I am not convinced and mother for sure isn’t having it either… As she never fails to remind us, the Irish people have been through much worse and our ancestors didn’t give up their country or “desert” it, as mother calls it. So every time he even only complains a little too much, she puts on a face that makes one think she wasn’t let into church on Sunday…very scary. And I don’t like to intervene in their discussions so I better don’t make you, my diary, listen to all this nonsense now. They didn’t have a lot of time to argue lately anyway, because the twins Sean and Patrick have fallen ill and require quite a lot of attention from our mother. I think they stayed out in the bad weather too long…