Irish Roots in Germantown: Finding My Way

Philadelphia has been described as a city of neighborhoods. I was born in one of them -- Germantown -- in a hospital that no longer exists as such. We moved away when I was a baby, and I have no memories of living in this historic borough.

My father, the son of Irish immigrants, told me stories about growing up in Germantown during the Great Depression. When I complained about walking to the bus stop on wintry suburban mornings, there were tall tales about him and his siblings trudging miles in the snow to get to school, wearing cardboard stuffed into the holey soles of hand-me-down shoes. In actuality, his Catholic grammar school was one block away from his home, which was much closer than my bus stop. I learned early on that my father was gifted with blarney, and as a result, I always wondered what life was really like for this spirited ethnic group during those troubled times.

With our current economic crisis, the idea of discovering how the Germantown Irish lived during the Great Depression became even more compelling. So this blog will chronicle my journey into the past. I am motivated by something more than curiosity. I want to find my way back to a place and time that feels muted and distant, but still alive, and discover what we share in common.