This blog is a personal take on Listowel, Co. Kerry. I am writing for anyone anywhere with a Listowel connection but especially for sons and daughters of Listowel who find themselves far from home. Contact me at listowelconnection@gmail.com

Tag: Presentation Convent Listowel Page 3 of 7

Nuns, Childers’ Park and some funeral customs

November 2016 in The Black Valley

Photos; Catherine Moylan

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Listowel Nuns

I’m posting this in the hope that someone will recognise the sisters or the priests with them. The photograph is Mike Hannon’s

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NEKD is Moving



Work is ongoing at the old post office in William Street. It is to be the new home of NEKD or so I’m told.

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They Stretched in Never-ending Line…..


 along the margin of the pitch and putt course. Though not quite as picturesque as Wordsworth’s daffodils, Listowel’s fluttering and dancing narcissi brighten up the town park these days.

There is a new line of trees along by  this path as well which will act as a shelter belt and a new defining line to the pitch and putt course.

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We do Death well in Ireland


I’m told that at one time in Ireland when a person died, the first person to be contacted was the priest and the sacristan. People usually died at home and, since the priest would have visited the sick person to administer Extreme Unction, he would be expecting the call. The sacristan would ring the church bell to spread the news, three tolls of the bell for a man and two for a woman. The news of the identity of the deceased would spread by word of mouth. The creamery was a place where many heard the news.

In every parish there was usually at least one woman who took on the task of washing and laying out the corpse. There was no embalming in those days. There is a very poignant chapter in Peig Sayers much maligned autobiography in which she describes having to wash and lay out the body of her young son who had fallen to his death from a rough ledge on The Great Blasket while trying to collect fuel for their meagre fire.

The dead man was usually dressed in a brown garment known as a “Habit”. This was purchased especially for the purpose. Women sometimes had a blue one if they were members of the Sodality of Our Lady. These women were known as Children of Mary and it was an honour to be allowed to join this sisterhood. They wore a blue cloak and a veil in the Corpus Christi procession. Rosary beads and scapulars were entwined through the fingers of the dead person. There was always at least one wax candle alight to light a path for the soul to Heaven.

In the house of the dead person mirrors were covered and the clock was stopped. A black crepe ribbon was attached to the henhouse door. This custom was called telling the hens.

As soon as the corpse was laid out the wake began. Neighbours, family and friends came and went from then until the burial. The family was never left alone. Drink had to be supplied to the mourners, port for the women, whiskey for the men and a mineral for the children or teetotallers. At one time clay pipes and snuff were also part of the ritual.

It was considered bad luck to open a grave on Monday so if the death occurred on Saturday or  Sunday, a sod would be turned on the grave on Sunday. The neighbours usually dug the grave. The hearse was horse drawn and the priests wore white sashes and a white ribbon round their hats.

I have heard of a custom that others don’t seem to know too much about so maybe I dreamed it. The clothes of the deceased were given to a close friend and he had to wear them to mass for three consecutive Sundays. It was an honour to be asked to wear the clothes.

Black was the colour of mourning. A widow wore black for a full year after the death of her husband. Some women never again wore coloured clothes.  The men of the family wore a black diamond on the sleeves of their jackets. Widows had a special place in the community and got a lot of help from neighbours. Some widows remarried as they were often bereaved while still young and needed the help and protection of a man. A wealthy widow was often a good catch.

All of this is changed now .

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At The Convent



I was back at school last week. Planting on the front lawn has come on well and the foundation stone is now surrounded by a beautiful halo of heather.

I pointed my camera over the wall towards the convent. The lower windows of the convent chapel are now completely covered in ivy. The once beautiful garden is overgrown and untidy and the railing is falling down.





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Smalltown nominated for an IFTA in Best Drama category 


Photo of Smalltown team from Facebook

Cashen, daffodils and a real oldie from Presentation Convent, Listowel



Ballybunion at Evening, February 2017


Photo: Bridget O’Connor

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Ballyduff Memories


If you are from the Cashen area of Ballyduff , this is a great page for trips down Memory Lane

Cashen Connections

The Cashen school – 1943

Front Row (Lt) to (Rt) :Maureen Spring (KIlmore), Ita Rochford (The Cashen), Brenda Costello (Knopogue),Kathleen Spring (Kilmore), Eileen Sheehan (Clahane),Eileen Power (Knopogue), Mary B. Enright (Kilmore),Vera Sullivan (Houlihan) (The Cashen), Ambrose Dowling (The Cashen), Sean Gorman (Kilmore).
Back Row (Lt) to (Rt) : ________, Ena Godley (The Cashen), Patsy Stack-Sullivan (Kilmore), Nora Lyons (The Cashen), Seamus McCarthy(Knopogue), Bob Browne (Clahane), Bunny Mahony (The Cashen),Denis Enright (Kilmore), Seamus Rourke (The Cashen), Michael Rochford (The Cashen)

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We Care with a Chair



Every time I visit this lovely garden in Childers’ Park there seems to be a development. They have added two seats, a flagpole and some trees.




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The Daffodils are out



I took the above photographs on paths through the Town Park.


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Nuns and Scouts



A man called Mike Hannon posted this old photo on the internet. I wonder if it was taken during the big international scout jamboree.

Presentation Convent Then and Now, a poem and the Community Centre extension

The 1916 installation in January 2017




It looks great.

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Presentation Convent, then and now



My photographs of the convent  made so many people feel sad that I thought I’d better post a last few nice photographs from the convent in its heyday, the way we all prefer to remember it.


So sad!



When I was writing some convent memories earlier in the week, I included this Facebook comment from Maria Sham

What a waste! Sr Dympna loved the gardens, with the help of a man named Mackassey. I remember walking around the gardens following the Priest with the Blessed Sacrament all of us in our white dresses. It was Corpus Christi. We had another name for it. Does anyone know what it was ?

Seems that lots of people know what it was, Maria. It was the Quadrant Ore Celebration of the Eucharist.

James Kenny did a bit of research on this practice. This is what he wrote;

 “Maria
Sham referred to a procession at the Presentation Convent during Corpus Christi and was querying if it had a name. It was called the Quarantore, official name
is Quadrant’ Ore. I remember the processions….I was an altar boy at the time and had the great
“honour” of leading out the procession with the other boys and the priests.

The Quarantore wasForty Hours’ Devotion; a Roman Catholic exercise of devotion in which continuous prayer is made for forty hours before the Blessed Sacrament in solemn exposition. It commonly occurred in a succession of churches,
with one finishing prayers at the same time as the next takes it up

A celebration of such a devotion was begun by a Solemn Mass or “Mass of Exposition”, and ended by a “Mass of
Deposition”. Each of these masses includes a procession and the litany of
the saints being chanted.

Theword derives from early 17th century  Italian: quaranta
meaning forty and ore meaning  hours.

I don’t recollect if the procession in the convent
grounds was the beginning or the end of the forth hours adoration.

Although the precise origin of the Forty Hours’ Devotion is wrapped in a
good deal of obscurity, the custom of exposing the Blessed Sacrament in one church after another is recorded as having
started as a novelty in Milan, in May, 1537.”

Margaret Dillon remembers Listowel’s Quadrant Ore well. The Eucharist in a monstrance was held aloft by the priest. That year’s communicants (girls) in two lines came forward and strewed petals before the Eucharist. This was a carefully choreographed exercise. Sr. Dympna was in charge and she drilled the girls in what to do. At a certain point, the girls who were at the front went to the back and two new girls took over the petal duty at the front of the line.

Vincent Carmody remembers this Corpus Christi procession too. Vincent was an altar boy in the convent chapel and on Corpus Christi he got a day off school to participate in the the procession. The ceremony was part of Quadrant Ore or forty hours of prayer to mark the feast of the Body of Christ. 



As Vincent remembers it the blessed sacrament was taken in the monstrance from the altar where it had stood during the Quarantore exposition and it was carried down the corridor of the convent followed by the nuns and the Children of Mary. It was carried out the front door and around the front lawn following the path, before being returned again to the chapel.



Seán Keane remembers it well. He wrote “No doubt you were there for the “Quarantori” as I think the Corpus Christi procession was called ( forty (Quarenta) days after Easter Sunday?)The girls scattered petals of flowers from baskets,onto the ground in front of the priests at the head of the procession around the convent grounds.

I was one of the young Altar boys who served the priest at all the ceremonies in the convent church.

Sr Aloyius was our taskmaster

The 7.30 am Mass was a bit of a bind but was compensated for by the freedom to roam which we took and the generosity in the kitchens which we availed of while we waited to serve at benediction after retreats for the Children of Mary etc.

I recall seeing a nice photo of the group of us Altar boys taken in front of the convent door

( exactly as in our picture) about 1960.

Others will have more.”

Maura McConnell remembers it as well. “The procession through the convent gardens on Corpus Christi was known as Quarant’Ore  . The garden always looked immaculate then and woe betide you if you were caught walking on the grass 😂 Maura”

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A Poem for You


I Like to Walk with Nana

I like to walk with Nana,

Her steps are small  like mine.

She never says “let’s hurry-up!

She always takes her time.

I like to walk with Nana,

Her eyes see things like mine.

Shiny stones, a fluffy cloud,

Stars at night that shine.

People rush their whole day through,

They rarely stop to see.

I’m glad that God made Nanas

unrushed and young like me!

Author: unknown

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From the Archives



Kerryman 4 January 1947



South Kerry Domestic Servant’s Fatal Injuries. About 6. 10 pm on

Christmas Eve, while seventeen years old Miss Mary Curran a domestic

servant, of  Coomastow, Ahatubrid, was proceeding home from her

employer’s place at Waterville, she was involved in a collision with a

motor lorry at Kinneigh, seven miles from Caherciveen and received

injuries to which she succumbed in about 20 minutes.

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Progress on the Community Centre Extension, January 11 2017



a Kingfisher, Washday blues, Rattoo Tower, Gaelscoil rebrand and Convent Memories

This kingfisher was photographed by Timothy John MacSweeney on the river Blackwater near Kanturk in Co. Cork.

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The Bad Old Days



This is a picture of a washtub and a washboard. This was the washing machine of your mothers.

I dont know any man who ever washed clothes in one of these.

Picture it for a minute and count your blessings.

Monday was washday. There was no running water so water had to be brought in buckets from a water barrel in the yard. The water was boiled in a Burko, if you were lucky, or a big pot on the range or over an open fire if you weren’t. The boiling water was then transferred to the washtub. The clothes were scrubbed on the wash board, using a big bar of Ivy or Sunlight soap. There was rinsing, blueing an starching to follow.

Washing was a day’s work and hard work at that.

Now don’t you feel privileged to live in present times?

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Rattoo


Photos; Bridget O’Connor

Rattoo Tower

A Poem by Pat Given from his anthology, October Stocktaking

A slender pencil pointing to
the skies

I see you there. The story
that you wrote

Erased by time, by men
forgot.

But still you stand and still
you tantalise.

The leather books compiled
upon this site,

Are no longer legible to
human eye.

But you, clear stylus still,
endure to write

Their meaning on the
uncomprehending sky.

To all who pause and
contemplate this scene

These silent stones become a
speaking tongue

Of God and man and Christ
between,

And toil transmuted when for
Heaven done.

O Tower, to each succeeding
age

You preach more eloquently
than printed page.

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Beatha Teanga í a Labhairt



For a language to live it must be spoken




Gaelscoil Lios Tuathail has rebranded



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Convent Memories




Whenever I mention the convent or post a picture of it on Facebook, it always prompts a flood of memories. 



Not everyone is on Facebook, so here are a few recent comments;


Sr Dympna must be turning in her grave. Not a lady to turn lightly without ‘having a word’ with the Man on High. (Kay Caball)

Great memories of this little church, first confession etc . (Máire Logue)

What a waste! Sr Dympna loved the gardens, with the help of a man named Mackassey. I remember walking around the gardens following the Priest with the Blessed Sacrament all of us in our white dresses. It was Corpus Christi. We had another name for it. Does anyone know what it was ? (Maria Sham)

About 15 of us started our school days there. It was known as Babies and High Infants. Sister Claire and Sister Consolata. with Sister Frances keeping a very close eye on us. The down side was when we went to the boys school into 1st class we got a very frosty reception. It is so sad to see this beautiful building going to wreck and ruin. (Jim Halpin)

What a pity, such a beautiful church ⛪ and left there to rot. Wanted to get married in that church but it was bought before we started planning  (Catherine Nolan)

These are just a few samples of the many responses to the pictures. I think Liz Dunne’s comment summed up how everyone feels about the convent: 


 So sad to see it falling into decline – I wish I had the pennies to save it!

Presentation Convent; January 2017 and servant girls in the U.S in 1847

St. John’s Arts and Heritage Centre in Listowel Town Square





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Irish “Servant Girls in the U.S. in the nineteenth century

From The Pilot 17 January 1874

Dear Sir,

……I have never sympathized with the
popular murmurs against the Irish. What would our nation have done without
them? They have brought to us, strong hands and willing minds; they have built
our roads, and bridges, and laid our railroads, and been everywhere at hand in
our families to help.

Of course, they are but human,
subject to all the defects of imperfect humanity; but, notwithstanding that, I
do not hesitate to say they have been a blessing to this country. I have always
maintained that the very best, the safest, the most respectable, and (taking
all things into account) the most really desirable situation for a
working-woman was that of a family domestic. Through foolish pride and
prejudice, the American woman has refused this position, and it has therefore
fallen to the lot of the stranger.

Thousands of young Irish girls have
landed on our shores, utter strangers far from the advice and protection of
fathers and mothers, with no reliance but their priests and their church, and
into their hands have been committed the life and health of our young children,
the ministration of our substance, the care of luxurious homes, and the
maintenance of that order, neatness and economy on which depends the enjoyment
of domestic life.  Taking them as a class, considering the  inexperienced
age at which they come, and that often they are as young as the daughters of
the family they serve, it seems to me that any sensible person would rather
wonder to see how well they do their duties, than rail at their shortcomings.

Let any father and mother imagine
their own daughter, at sixteen or eighteen, landed in Ireland to seek
self-support, and ask if young American females, similarly tried, would do any
better? Would they do even as well? Certainly so far as I have observed, the
American woman lacks that physical stamina and strength which belong to those
who come over to us from the old country.  There are many of the
girls who come, who have not only fine, healthy physical systems, but a good training
in neatness, industry and economy.

In my own family and those of my
friends, I have observed many young women who brought to this country the best
domestic training. There have been those who could write a handsome letter, who
could cut and fit garments, and even do the finest needlework. I can call to
mind now families which have been from the very beginning carried on by the
help of such girls, and who have valued them as they deserved, as real and true
friends. I know an eminent clergyman of Boston who has often been heard to say,
that the claims to saint ship of some of the Irish nurses who have been helpers
in his family, went beyond that of many saints in the calendar. In my own
family, I have had every reason to speak well of the Irish. Better domestic
service could not be than they have rendered me; and even after leaving they
have remained true and constant friends.

In my late tour through the West I
was more than once sought out by those who, ten or fifteen years ago, were
domestics in my house, now thriving mothers of families, and with children
growing up in our schools to take rank as educated American citizens. If I
mistake not, from the sons of some of these girls who began their career in
domestic service, will come some of the brightest and best of our future
citizens. One thing in regard to the Irish servant girls should not be omitted.
Considering their youth, their inexperience, their coming strangers into the
country, their separation from parental oversight—their uniform purity and
propriety of conduct is certainly remarkable. Seldom in the course of my
observations have I known an Irish girl to go astray, or conduct herself
immodestly; and it is a respect in which the watch and ear of their Church is
most specially marked. As to honesty, in estimating that trait of Irish
servants, we must not expect superhuman virtue.

We must not say that they are
dishonest because they do not rise to a height of excellence above the average
of our best educated and most respectable public men. With our newspapers full
of trials for defalcations and frauds, in every department of public life, on
the part of mature men, who have every advantage of training and position, let
us not be too exacting of immature young persons, who are suddenly brought from
poverty into what seems to them a most profuse and superfluous abundance…. 

Harriet Beecher Stowe


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Presentation Convent Listowel in January 2017


Every now and again I go by the convent and photograph its decline. It ‘s a very sorry sight now. It was reroofed last year so the rain is kept out but otherwise it is falling into disrepair.


Convent chapel with convent to the right.

 Ivy is encroaching from the side and will soon cover the window.

The security firm has attached a sign to the locked side gate.

I poked my camera through the gate to get this shot.

This was the beautiful front entrance used only by visitors.

The front lawn, once meticulous.

Toirbheart was once the junior school.

This gate which was rarely used is rusting away.

There used to be a calvary grotto here. it is in the grounds of the chapel on your right hand side as you leave the church.


Some of the windows are broken and some are boarded up.




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From the Kerryman archive


>>>>>.

Dromclough 1929



Photo; Johnny Joy on Facebook

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New Year Traditions



People have shown great interest in the tradition of first footer that I wrote about in my first New Year post.

Apparently in some Cork housing estates people all came outdoors at the stroke of midnight and rang bells or blew whistles and hooters. They greeted their neighbours and wished everybody a happy new year.

A letter from a blog follower detailed another lovely new year tradition of her own;

“Very interested in the January 1st tradition. We have a tradition over here too. Before the stroke of midnight, my husband and I vacate the house carrying a bottle of holy water. As the click strikes midnight, we enter the house, blessing each room with the holy water. It gives us a cozy protected feeling.
Happy New Year Mary!
Marie Shaw”

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