Uncle Eddy and the Gift of Family

Like Santa he would always come at Christmas. But his visits were much better than Santa's. He would arrive a day or two before December 25 to take my brother Jimmy and me shopping for our gifts and presents for my mother, father, and little sister Dianne. He let us choose whatever we wanted, then carefully choose what we thought would be the best gifts for the others. The last stop before we headed home to wrap our packages was always Mother See's Candy, where he would buy a five-pound box of chocolates.

Back at the house, with a scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other he would join us on the living room floor to play games for days. Card games, Clue, Jotto, Pick-up Sticks, and Monopoly. He never "let" us win, we had to win fair and square because he would say that's how it is in real life. He would laugh and talk with us and our parents for hours until his elbows were chafed from the carpet.

Dianne, Daddy and Uncle Eddy playing games

A bachelor who lived alone in New York City, he ate his evening meals out in a select set of restaurants near his apartment, which was only part of why he loved my mother's home cooked dinners. Ham and scalloped potatoes, turkey with stuffing and his favorite roast pork when he would finish off the last bites, bone in hand which wasn't etiquette in his upper eastside eateries. He was also a fan of the wonderful Mexican food that Dianne's best friend's mother would serve at their holiday parties. With his quick wit and good humor, his visits were welcomed by all our friends and neighbors over the years.

While he rarely appeared outside of the holidays, in 1962 he drove from his then home in Houston, Texas to California to take Jimmy and me to the Seattle World's Fair. We stopped to meet cousins in San Francisco and Portland before moving in with another set of family in Seattle. After that it was on to Butte for a visit with my grandmother and more aunts, uncles, and cousins. Our final stop was Salt Lake City where he dropped us off with our maternal Uncle Tom, who had been his friend since high school, and Tom's wife Aunt Nena.

Beyond introducing us to our large extended family of Egans, Sullivans and Murphys, Eddy encouraged us to learn about our Irish heritage. He sent me books about the Easter Rebellion when, as a high school senior, I was writing a paper on the topic. And he gave my work a much more thorough critique than my teacher did.

In 1969, when I was studying in Bordeaux during my junior year abroad, he met me in London a few days before Christmas. It was the first stop on our family heritage tour. Cousin Mary Egan O'Connell, her husband Michael and daughter Pauline, hosted us for a festive Christmas dinner. Their warmth and hospitality set the tone for the rest of the trip.

Christmas at the O’Connell’s. Mary, Eddy, family friend, Michael, and little Pauline

On December 26, Saint Stephen's Day, we flew to Shannon where our cousin Jerry Egan met us and drove to Dromcollogher, County Limerick, the small town where the Egan family had lived for decades and where my grandfather Jeremiah Egan was raised. We were met by a group of Wrenboys dressed in costume with their blackened faces singing the traditional Wren Song. When we arrived at Cousin Josie Egan Dillion's home for dinner that evening Eddy bragged that we had been welcomed to Drom by a band, though not a particularly good one.

Gathering at the Dillons, Back row: Josie Dillon, John Dillon, John Kavanagh, Maura Egan, young John Dillon, Jerry Egan. Second row: Thomas Egan and son John, ?, Bridget Egan, Noreen Dillon. Front row: Eddy Egan and Ann Kavanagh

For the next few days, we were feted by cousin after cousin, fed wonderful holiday meals and treated to singsongs after dinner. How could all of them have such beautiful voices and know the words to so many songs? My father had a lovely tenor and would have easily joined the singing, but I did not inherit his voice. Nonetheless Eddy volunteered me. I began a rough version of "The Red River Valley" and was rescued from complete embarrassment by a chorus of cousins.

On our last day in the west of Ireland, Jerry drove us down to meet my grandmother’s family in Ardgroom, County Cork. A rugged dirt road led to the Sullivan family farm and the old farmhouse that my grandmother Mary left when she emigrated in the early 1900s. The farm was now in the hands Uncle Paddy, Mary's youngest sibling. Paddy and his wife Julia and their children welcomed us as we gathered around a peat fire burning in the grate. We talked about the Sullivan men–Mike and Florry—who had gone to Butte, Montana to work in the mines and the sisters—Mary, Margaret, Bridget, Kate and Hannah—who had followed them to find work as well. Most of them had never returned to visit but the next generation was coming to discover their roots.

The next day Uncle Eddy and I boarded the train to Dublin. As we traversed to the island, he told me story after story of Ireland’s struggle to break free from Britain. He spoke about the battles and the heroes of the rebel songs. This was the cause that my grandfather Egan and his generation had supported through their membership in the Clan-Na-Gael and the Robert Emmet Literary Association, Butte's version of the Irish Republican Army.

Some years later, Uncle Eddy brought my father and sister to Ireland acting as family liaison and tour guide with a similar itinerary. Of all the many gifts he gave us over years of Christmases, the gift of getting to know our Irish family is the most enduring. Dianne and I have been back several times to visit the cousins. In 2000 we accompanied our father on a trip to celebrate his 80th birthday. Just a few years ago we brought my nephew Eamon to meet the family after his summer study program in Dublin.

We try to stay in touch at holidays, and I have connected with a few of the younger cousins, including Pauline of my first visit, on social media. All thanks to Uncle Eddy sharing his understanding of the importance of family.