The McClenaghan Clan

Last update 14 January, 2006

The Trip:

With Labor Day only two weeks away, we decided to make it a trip to trace our roots, visiting Jim's birthplace in Philadelphia, friends in Northeastern Pennsylvania, go to the family event and then travel into Virginia to trace my roots. So, on September 1st, we started our journey.

After leaving Los Angeles and arriving in Philadelphia, the next morning we were in the Amish Country having breakfast when our cellular rang. There were a few Mennonite families among the patrons in the restaurant and the looks were priceless when I answered the call. The caller was my new cousin Peter Osborne, saying he was able to get copies of my mother's high school picture along with several other items and would give them to me at the family function. At last, I would have a picture of my mother.

After visiting our friends, we traveled to Maryland. The Osborne Labor Day Family Event was wonderful. We were able to meet all nine of my 2nd cousins. Peter gave me my mother's picture along with her husband's obituary notice that said my mother was alive at the time of his death and had five children. I was overcome with joy. That meant between my mother & father, I have seven half-sisters & brothers.

The following day, Peter's wife took us to Arlington Cemetery to visit my father's gravesite and McLean, VA. to see his last home. We spent the evening at their home and they showed us the Family Bible. What a thrill it was to be seeing a part of my heritage.

The next day we were on our own and started our search. We visited Blandford Cemetery in Petersburg where we found gravesites for four generations of the Osborne family. My third great-grandmother was Benjamin Harrison's granddaughter so we decided to visit his ancestral home, "The Berkley Plantation" which offers public tours near Williamsburg, VA. After doing some sightseeing along the way, our next stop was Norfolk where we planned on spending at least a day researching my mother's family for we knew we had to be back in Philadelphia to catch our flight in two days.

Knowing we only had one-day in Norfolk, the first place on our agenda was to visit the Norfolk Library to see if we could locate a high school picture of my father. The Library has a marvelous genealogy section devoted just to the area. We were unable to find a picture, but confirmed my mother's address and sorry we couldn't spend more time to do some research.

From the documents I've kept over the years, I had the last known addresses for my grandmother, and an uncle. After seeing their homes, we still had two more stops and the day was going by so fast.

I knew my grandparents and my mother's husband were buried at Forest Lawn Cemetery. So off we went to visit another cemetery. We still weren't sure if my mother was alive and was reassured that she was when we finally found her husband's gravesite (in the pouring rain and being eaten alive by mosquitoes). Her husband's tombstone showed her name but no date of death.

Once we visited the cemetery, using the address that I sent the letter to 10 years ago, we headed for my mother's home. When we got there, I took some pictures and couldn't believe I was actually here. When I returned to the car, Jim asked me about knocking on her door. This frightened me for I wasn't here to cause her any trouble and couldn't take another rejection. Jim reminded me that my mother was getting up in age. She was now 77 and the only person who could tell me who is my father. With all his charm and charisma, Jim talked me into it and off he went -- alone -- to her door. (I stopped breathing for a good 5 minutes.)

A young girl answered. Jim asked her to step outside to tell his story. She was very receptive and came out to the car. Jim introduced her as my mother's youngest daughter Becky. She asked if we had proof. Of course we did, for I had a binder full of information. I showed her the birth certificates and other documents I had. Among them was her mother's high school picture and she was surprised.to see it. Becky said she would speak with her mother, but not sure how she would react.

Before she left I gave her our name, address, and phone numbers etc. in case she didn't return. (I was shaking so and couldn't remember what I wrote. Did I give her the correct cellular number?) We waited. It was probably no more than five minutes, but it seemed like an hour. She returned to say that her mother didn't remember but was sure she would call me. I explained that we were only in Norfolk for the day and would be returning to Philadelphia tomorrow. She promised she would talk to her and should she get any information, give us a call.

The next morning Becky called The first thing she said was, "She confessed. She is your mother, but frightened and wasn't sure if she wanted to meet you." I said, I didn't want to force her, but to be sure to keep our address in case she wanted to contact me. Her replied back was, "After all, you are my sister and should meet her. I'll keep trying and call you back." I told Jim what she said and we both broke into tears. About two hours later she called and said, "Come on over!"

I had my first meeting with my mother. It was wonderful. She is a beautiful person and in good health. My first words to her were, "I want to thank you for my life." I tried to put her at ease by reassuring her that all I wanted was to meet her and not here to cause any trouble. We were surprised that she recalled speaking to Jim about 14 years ago, but never received my letter. I needed to know the truth, so I showed her my birth certificate and asked: "Is this my father?" She answered, "Yes, but he knew nothing about my birth for he left for the war shortly after she became pregnant." Just talking to her was more than I could ever wished for.

Although the visit lasted only an hour, it seemed like an eternity to me. Afterwards Jim said, "Aren't you glad I insisted on knocking on her door?" We were so fortunate to have her daughter there and find someone who was willing and understanding to hear my story.

I can't help but think that all that has happened was meant to be. Everything just seemed to fall into place.

In a ten-day period, we traveled 1300 miles and found my roots.