The Kerryman (South Kerry Edition)
Teresa reaches a noble ninety
TERESA CURRAN of Chapeltown (Caol) was 90 on Monday, June 12, and is the most senior person in the village.
Teresa, originally of the Fishery in Valentia, emigrated to Toronto in the early fifties and lived there for about two years. She recalls travelling by boat from Liverpool and the journey taking about six days. During the journey she kept in touch with home through morse messages from Paddy Burke of the Valentia Radio Station.
She left Toronto to live in London and married John Curran of Valentia there. Their eldest child Kathleen (Kate) was born there and they came home when she was one year old.
A total of seven children were born to the Currans, five boys and two girls.
Husband John passed away suddenly in 1990. Her twin brother, Gerard, died about 20 years ago and she also suffered the heartbreak of the death of her youngest child, Paul, who passed away in his early forties in 2014.
Teresa has an abiding interest in reading and playing cards and continues to play whist during the winter. on many occasions in years gone by her house accommodated the neighbours for memorable card sessions. Situated in the middle of Chapeltown (Caol) her home was, and still is, a social hub and one of an open door to neighbours, family and friends.
It was also a GAA home in the true Kerry sense. Her husband, John, sons and brothers-in-law played with the Valentia Young Islanders and in years gone by when local GAA dressing rooms did not exist the Currans’ back shed was always available.
Her mother-in-law, Nana Curran, lit bonfires for victorious Valentia teams and a welcome was always accorded to players and supporters in the Curran household. If it could talk what tales ‘the rack’ in her home would tell (’the rack’ is a time honoured and traditional piece of furniture seating very much associated with Kerry).
Teresa was accorded a big night of celebration among family and friends on Saturday, June 10 in the Ring Lyne Bar and Restaurant.
As this writer walks through the village of Chapeltown, particularly on a quiet winter’s day, it makes me sad to pass the various houses and remember the parents of us children of the sixties, now no longer there. Ours was a village of Currans, Lynchs, O’Donoghues, Falveys, Murphys and O’Sullivans, akin to one big family, as we wandered freely into each others’ houses and did the rounds of the five grocery shops and John William’s pub. Noel Lynch’s Lúb Bar came later. We frequently took a spin in the various horse and donkey carts on their morning visits to the village creamery.
Teresa Curran is the last of her peers of the parents of our youth (her neighbour Nono O’Donoghue, too, but considerably younger). Her presence is a reminder of happy days when, in the words of Sigerson Clifford, ‘life held no print or plan’.
Long may her door stay open agus go maire sí’ an céad.