The suitcase that carried dreams across the Atlantic
The suitcase that Gerry Donaghy brought from Ireland to America in 1957 now resides in a family attic in Medford. Photo taken September 2022. Credit: Kathleen Munisteri
Do you have a historical artifact in your family? We do — a tattered suitcase that no longer closes lies in my 85-year-old mom’s attic in Medford.
This suitcase, which has traveled many miles, held the hopes and dreams of my dad, Gerry Donaghy, when he was a 25-year-old emigrating from Donegal, Ireland in 1957.
He was sponsored by my Aunt Kitty, who lived in the Bronx. His stay with her was complete when he secured a job and saved enough money to rent a studio apartment in lower Manhattan.
In 1959, he met my mom, Mary, 22, from Astoria, at the City Center dance hall in Manhattan. They married the next year.
They moved all their belongings, including the suitcase, into a basement apartment in Astoria. My dad worked hard to build job security and was hired by the Long Island Rail Road as a mechanic. After my sister, also named Mary, was born, I followed 13 months later. We became known as the “Irish twins.”
My dad had a strong desire to become a U.S. citizen and, at 30, sought assistance from another newcomer to obtain both his citizenship and GED diploma. My mom, a 1958 graduate of St. John’s University, was eager to offer support, and my dad attended evening classes.
On May 8, 1962, he became a proud U.S. citizen. Over the years, he lamented the only question he missed on the citizenship exam: What is the capital of New York? Although he lived in the United States, a piece of his heart was left behind in Ireland.
By the fall of 1963, my family had outgrown the one-bedroom basement apartment, which prompted a move into a two-bedroom apartment in Bayside. Once again, the family belongings, including the tattered suitcase, were packed, and we moved.
We spent nine years there, and our family added two brothers, Gerard and James. We have happy memories of growing up surrounded by many other children, playing outdoors. We never had to be concerned about social media because it didn’t exist.
In 1972, my parents realized their dream of home ownership. They bought a Levitt house for $30,000 on eastern Long Island, in Medford. I remember our Bayside neighbors thinking that we were moving to the end of the earth — Suffolk County seemed so far away. The move would be the last one for our family — and the suitcase. It made its final stop in the attic of our family Cape.
On Long Island, our family continued to prosper and grow as my siblings and I graduated from Patchogue-Medford High School, and some of us attained graduate degrees.
My dad passed away in 2014, and we grew more sentimental about his possessions, especially the suitcase.
Over the years, I realized how courageous my dad was to emigrate in his mid-20s. To venture to the United States by himself, leaving behind his family with merely a suitcase, a $100 one-way ticket and maybe a few bucks in his pocket.
Now when I look at that suitcase, I realize that its significance is not only in its journey but what it truly symbolizes — the pursuit of a dream that was made possible through hard work and my dad’s desire for a better life for himself and his future family.
Reader Kathleen Munisteri lives in East Setauket.
