Just north of Killarney, Ireland, along the main road to Limerick, is the former manor of Lord Headley. He was a British nobleman, given Irish land by the British king for his loyal service to the Crown, blah, blah, blah. The manor is now privately owned and a youth hostel. The owners were very friendly, warm-hearted, quick with a smile and gracious (Duh, they’re Irish), and told us all about the manor’s history.
We were told of his church up on the hill and given directions. The church is only used for weddings and funerals; otherwise closed, the front steps have been removed and only installed temporarily as needed. A few broken down head stones “adorn” the front yard, the church grounds overgrown and poorly maintained. Lord Headley’s tomb is in the rear yard, alone, almost totally overgrown with a large lilac bush. The cast iron front gate was rusted in place, open, but no longer swinging. I found an empty half-pint whiskey bottle near the front gate.
It seemed a gloomy place, no matter what the weather. The place was just plain creepy; I expected a bolt of lightning and zombies popping out of the neglected cemetery. I was thrilled to find a “connection” to the family name in Ireland, even though I have no reason to believe it is my bloodline. Probably not — I felt more relieved than noble when I left.
Thought for the Day: If a man is proud of his wealth, he should not be praised until it is known how he employs it. Socrates