Joseph Mahon Snr.
by Joe Mahon (Grandson).
Joseph Manon Snr. and is wife Bridget
Every community down through the years have had a local focal point where they could meet and discuss matters of local and national interest. In a time when automobiles were a rarity and pedal power dictated how far you travelled; the local meeting place had a significance peculiar to rural Ireland.
Kingsland crossroad s in the 1930's was not very different from thousands of similar crossroads the length and breadth of Ireland. It doubled as a meeting place for the locals, being conveniently located adjacent to a good rambling house, the post office, Harrington’s pub and the national school. The fact that the parish priests house was within ear and eye shot at the time was probably considered convenient at least by the local lads.
My family's association with Kingsland goes back to the early 1930's to my grandfather. In late 1933 my grandfather returned home from America, The Bronx, New York, to be precise having spent several years working in the Bronx. At the time America was in the throes of the Great Depression. On his arrival home he decided to use his savings from America to set up a business. The question was where? Along with his brother Mike, who at 'the time was living in Monasteraden, they set out on their bikes each day in search of a suitable location for a shop, eventually arriving at Kingsland Cross. A few weeks later and £50 lighter he had himself a site courtesy of Joan Con nor, an elderly long-time resident of Kingsland. A prime location, right on the crossroads opposite Drury's. All that remained to be done was build a house and shop.
For me looking back it seems strange and incongruous to consider or picture my grandfather as a stranger or foreigner, to Kingsland. But again, at the time he was a foreigner from Ballaghaderreen, of all places, where they could not make up their collective minds about county loyalty.
Sixty years later the hint of foreignness has long since faded or blended into the local canvass. Six months after buying the site his other brother Paddy, a tradesman, had with the assistance of local lads, and with sand and stone drawn from Gurteen quarry, built a two-storey house and shop. It was not long after opening the shop that a neighbour Ned Beirne, living across the road introduced him to Bridget Beirne his future wife. As Eugene Ford (R.I.P.) often reminded my grandfather and grandmother many years later cycling to Derrycough, in the direction of Johnny Beirnes house with two oranges tied to the handlebars of is bike. A heavy date no doubt!
When my grandfather talks now about his time in Kingsland over what is a relatively short period of time a mere sixty years, what strikes me is all the names. Whowere they and where are they now, all those families whom, like time have moved on?
Sixty years ago, a foreigner was someone from Ballaghaderreen and local meant the parish. Now the locals return home from every part of the country, London, New York and other foreign parts. It is still home, and we are still locals.