by Kathleen "Katie" O'Donnell
of Punkin' Doodle Boo Folk Art

In many a quiet town's history, there lurks a tale of strangeness or legend that is passed down from one generation to another. Frightening tales of happenings that leave lasting impressions on us as children, these stories prompt us to sleep with the hall light on, or the closet door shut tight. Spooky tales that make us walk briskly past a dilapidated landmark or old cemetery. Later, when we recall those stories as adults, we find we still get goose bumps on our flesh. Recalling those tales as perfectly rational grownups, we still find ourselves questioning our belief in supernatural occurrences, witchcraft, and mythological beings.

March 2008

Last month we ventured to 19th century New Brunswick to bring you the sad and haunting tale of Maggie Vail. This month, in the spirit of my Irish heritage and with the impending St. Patrick’s Day, I bring you the some Irish legends and stories from my childhood, and my favorite story of the Irish Banshee.

As a small child and then later as an adult, I became fascinated, and often amused, by the infinite superstitions and legends of my Celtic heritage. My grandmother is first generation, American born Irish, as was my grandfather. They both grew up in large Catholic households in the Northeast. Their parents, my great-grandparents, emigrated from Ireland in the late 1800’s.

As a little girl, I can remember stories of my great-grandparents, the O’Callahan’s, and the tidbits of Irish wisdom that my Grandmother McNally would try to impart to her wriggling, highstrung, eldest grandchild (me). Little bits of Irish legend, like children born before noon were not as wise as children born in the night, but children born at night were “very busy” (I, of course, was born at night).

Living on the shore, the “Red Sky at Night” rhyme was often recited by my father and my grandparents, when a reddened sky would present itself at dusk. Years later, I found out that this is an old Irish rhyme recited by Irish farmers and fishermen as they watched the dusky night sky. The result of the sky color would help them prepare for the following days duties. Moreover, superstitious Irish brides brought with them, into their new home, a lucky horseshoe. The horseshoe was hung over the threshold, always with the U pointing up, so that the “good luck would never run out”. I remember that my own grandmother had such a horseshoe, hung next to the “Irish Blessing”, over her threshold.

My grandmother was born on May first and thus named appropriately “May”. I remember that the older relatives regarded that as very symbolic and important. As a little girl, I was told that there was something very special about an Irish child born on the first day of May. Years later, I remembered that story when my own child was born on that very same day. After some research, I found out that in Ireland, Lá Bealtaine is an old Celtic holiday that occurs on May the first. This is considered the first day of summer in modern Ireland but was once a mystical day from the days of Celtic paganism. Today, this holiday is celebrated by neo pagans and wiccans. Interestingly, a child born on the first of May is supposed to be gifted with the ability “to know the fairies” and was considered to be a “seer”. However, in payment for the gift, it said that the child would be very weak and ill much of their lives. I don’t know how much of that I believe, because my grandmother is still very spry and on her game, if you know what I mean and she is 90. However, I suspect I know why (but have never asked) my grandmother, in spite of great distance, remains very protective of my son, more so than any other of her grandchildren or great grandchildren.

Some of my fondest memories as a child are of my grandfather telling stories of the fairy people who would venture out after the rain, or of the crafty leprechaun who would play at the end of rainbow protecting his pot of gold from those who would try and stare him down and catch him. My grandmother, who would babysit me when I was very little, would often send me outside with a string, forked twig, and a small box to go and catch fairies in the garden or to look for leprechauns.

As a parent myself, I have to giggle at my grandparents ingenuity, because it was a highly effective way to drive a very hyperactive child outside after the afternoon rain. It was also very effective at keeping me busy for hours. I remember reporting the exciting day’s events to my parents. Of course, I now know why my father would laugh knowingly and he would often say that his mom and granny had sent him out in search of the fairies, too.

As an adult, the Irish legend that I have always enjoyed the most and found the most interesting is the story of the tragic, beautiful wailing Irish Banshee. The stories of the banshee date back many centuries in both Irish and Scottish mythology. It was believed that a clan’s banshee was a young female ancestor who, most often, died young and tragically.

Irish families tell tales of banshees dressed in long flowing gowns with beautiful flowing red or blonde hair lapping carelessly in the wind. Banshees wail and cry into the wind foretelling the imminent death of a loved one. Interestingly, the Irish people looked on the banshee as a comfort even though they are the messengers of impending death. In the Celtic tradition, Clans often regarded their banshee as a family protector, as someone who honored the dead. Reputedly, those families who have a banshee are the ones whose names begin with Mac, Mc or O’; those who are considered descendent of the great clans.

I have always found it interesting that family clans believed that when the emigrated to escape the Great Famine, their banshees came with them as a means of protection. My own experience happened a few years ago, a relative and great patriarch of our family passed away quite suddenly. Appropriately, bagpipes were played during the internment. In Ireland it is said that when a great member of a family dies, the soulful tune of bagpipes is met in the distance with the tribute mourning cry of the banshees. If you have ever heard bagpipes played outside, in the open (as in a funeral), you know that the echo emitted from the bagpipes sounds just like wailing off in the distance. Strangely, the wailing echo off in the distance gave me great comfort at the time, but when I remembered the story of the banshee it gave me terrible gooseflesh too. Was it an echo of the bagpipes or a banshee cry?

I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed the legend experiences that I have shared as much as I enjoyed recalling them to share. If you are of Celtic descent, in the spirit of St. Patrick’s Day, I encourage you to research some of these wonderfully fun superstitions and legends on your own. What you will find will definitely make you smile and giggle, while other, darker stories and legends will satisfy your need for those moments that give us goose bumps on our flesh. Who knows, you may even recall stories from your own childhood. I have always been thankful for all of the little stories and tidbits that have been passed down to me in one way or another. I encourage you to do the same with your children and grandchildren, because in such a modern age, those valuable stories can be lost forever if they are never shared.

HalloweenArtists.com is a group of talented, artistic individuals who love "Spooky Stories and Frightful Folklore" and all things associated with All Hallows Eve. Each month I will feature a spooky tale that is based on truth and/or regional folklore. I welcome you to send in your own "Spooky Stories and Frightful Folklore" or make suggestions for an upcoming column. Most of all, we encourage you to bookmark our site, so that you may retell these stories to you and yours.

Till next time,
Katie

About the Author:
Kathleen "Katie" O'Donnell is a Colorado artist, educator and mother of two children whose nicknames inspired the title of her business. Her work has been featured in online artisan magazines, and shops and galleries across the country. Visit Katie here on HalloweenArtists.com or on her website at PunkinDoodleBooFolkArt.com.