Immigrating To America

"The cold last night was the end."  Patrick hated bringing bad news, but when he proposed to Bridget, he promised to be truthful.  "The plants were weak anyway from all the rain."

"Oh Patrick, how can the family survive without a potato crop?" Bridget cried.

"The farm is little enough for my brother John, who inherited it from Pa, and for the wife and four little ones," Patrick said in agreement.  "Your cousin has written to me from a place called Boston, describing a better life."

"Is there any chance His Lordship might expand the amount of land the family could farm, even if it meant becoming tenants?" Bridget asked.

"Never will the family become tenants!" Patrick said.  "That would mean suffering from rent increases on top of the miserable weather."

"The coopering that your cousin taught me is much in demand in Boston," he continued.  "I can save enough that you can follow, and we will marry."

"But Patrick," Bridget interrupted.  "Do you know what this means?  We'll be separated by a wide ocean."

"I promise you Bridget Murphy," Patrick answered, "that it will only be a short time before you follow, and we will be married within six months."

This conversation between two young people very much in love took place in Dunganstown, County Wexford, in the fall of 1848.  Patrick, true to his word, sailed to Boston in April of 1849.  Bridget followed, and they wed that September.

"Patrick, your children and generations to come will do you honor in this new land," Bridget said at Patrick's funeral after his death on November 22, 1858.

One hundred and five years later, to the day, Patrick's great grandson was assassinated in Dallas, but it's fair to say that much honor had accumulated to the Kennedy family name.