This farming community, nestled in the Black River Valley in upstate New York, was where my great-great-grandfather, William McDonald, settled after leaving Ireland during the Potato Famine of 1845-1849. Legend has it that he walked in from Canada and stopped walking when he saw rolling hills and verdant fields that reminded him of his home across the Atlantic.
William’s son, my great-grandfather Patrick, never set foot in Ireland. Regardless, the genetic pull that attracted his father to the area remained. Ultimately Patrick and his wife, Johanna, had seventeen children, thirteen of whom reached adulthood. Twelve remained in and around Lowville, while the thirteenth, my grandfather Jim, left to pursue a medical career. Collectively, the thirteen had 52 children.
This brief history doesn’t begin to explain the genetic pull that still exists. Because I am the granddaughter of the one son who left the area, I myself never lived in Lowville. But whenever I return, the ghosts of William and his extended family accompany me. It’s been that way since I first visited as a little girl with my uncle somewhere around 1950.
I have lived in 34 different places; most of my relatives stayed put. It’s a foreign concept in my own life, but I glad to know there is a place in the center of Lewis County, NY, that we all can call home. We spent the day visiting and reminiscing there.
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