The Jessup Flannerys
Growing up there was 2 distinct Flannery clans, seperated by region.
We were the "Dunmore Flannerys". Six of us.
Pat, Maureen, Erin, Eileen, Tim, and Tom.
They were the "Jessup Flannerys". Six of them.
Mark, Mary, Chrissy, Cynthia, Jim, and Paul.
The Irish Chieftains were my Dad and his brother Jim, respectively.
The power behind the thrones were my Mom, and my Aunt Anne. Angels in America.
On Sundays we'd often gather at my Grandfather's house in Carbondale. If heaven has a smell, it’s that kitchen. It got a wee bit crowded, but the Irish are used to crowds. It got a wee bit loud too but the Irish are also used to loud.
Between the dozen of us, we had all the bases covered. Introverts and extroverts and those you could trust unattended with the grown-up’s beer and those that you could not. I was gonna add more but that pretty much covers the human condition I think.
Myself and my twin brother Tim were the youngest by a few years, so we were more like little mascots to the rest of them, who grouped together and conspired mostly by age. So Pat and Mark, and Maureen and Mary, and Erin and Chrissy......there was always lots to talk about.
Jim and Paul were twins, just like me and Tim. We longed for the day we might be as handsome as our older cousins. We're still waiting, but I do not wish to dwell...
After my Grandfather passed, we were together less. Holidays and things like that. Weddings. Funerals. The occasional Sunday afternoon at our house, or theirs. We lost Mary much too young. My Father adored Mary, his goddaughter. They had a special connection. Each would light up when the other entered the room. Every year until he got sick he'd place a single red rose on her grave. After that, I’d be sure to place it for him.
In a lot of ways I think Mary may have been the best of us.
There's been some bumps and bruises along the way, but the rest of us have turned out ok. We're an empathetic bunch, and even if it's been years since we've all been together, there's never any awkwardness when the day arrives. We just pick up where we left off. There's children and grandchildren now, all making the same sort of noises that we made. We all sort of revel in our Irishness. We’re as functional as a dysfunctional family can be.
We've changed oh so much, and in some ways we haven't changed at all.
I like to think we've made our Dads proud.
My cousin Chrissy married Mike Mullins in 1983. To say that Mike fit into the clan is understating the obvious. An absolutely wonderful man with fiery gaelic blood and an often unfortunate love of Notre Dame football (in this, Mike and I were one...), he adored his wife and their two children and was nothing but kind and graceful to me always. But then again he was nothing but kind and graceful to everyone.
If the world was filled with people like Mike Mullins, it would be a much better place to visit.
I wish I knew him better. He was a gift to our family.
Sometimes a man carries around a sort of quiet wisdom and dignity......which is how I used to describe my own father, and how my cousins described theirs. I've said it before, but I believe all the good in us comes from them, and any bad comes from when they said "I think you should take that road..." and we said...."pfff....I'm going down THIS one..."
Our mistakes were our own at least. That's not bad business really. It's what you want for your children.
The Dunmore and Jesusp Flannerys worshipped their fathers. When Kyle and Kelly, Mike's children, speak of their own Dad....it reminds me of….well……us.
It was ALS that took Mike. An absolutely dreadful disease that seems to seek out the big and the strong. More commonly known as "Lou Gehrig's Disease", it remains proof that the devil does indeed exist.
Nobody said the world was fair. We can sometimes be forgiven for thinking that the best of us seem picked on. But then no.....it had to be some sort of freakish, cosmic blunder. Most things, even cruelty, are random....a grain of sand that belonged here.....inadvertently moved to there. You have to think like this, because nothing really makes sense if you don't.
And this world doesn't allow do-overs.
I'm sure Mike doesn't want a fuss. But he’s exactly the kind of man who deserves one.
When men like this go, they can never be replaced. They are like fingerprints. Or flakes of snow. No two ever quite the same.
What we can hope is that the way they lived their life raises our own bar.
I think it does.
And maybe that can be enough to get us through.
Much love to the Jessup Flannerys from the Dunmore Flannerys today, and always….
In a bit...
--tf