There are times in life when events occur and we simply do not understand them. We try our best to rationalize and then we gather together with others and debate this strange occurrence again. Sometimes events can be very far-fetched without reason, but we have certainly seen the oddities with our own eyes. Such was the case over New England back in the year 1833.
It was my great-great-grandparents, new immigrants to this new world that they now called home. Concord, N.H., finally offered Martin and Bridget a safe harbor where they found stability from the turbulent lives they lived in Ireland during their early years. Martin and Bridget sailed across the Atlantic Ocean to this young nation called the America. Their new life contained in a single steamer trunk, aptly filled with an endless supply of dreams for the future. They were practical people, both born and raised in Ireland. Leaving their families behind they boarded the ship that would transport them to their unknown futures. Martin with his old fiddle entertained the passengers as they sailed while Bridget watched her husband closely, always the supporting wife and certainly Martin’s biggest fan as he played his instrument in route to America.
The young couple arrived and found employment, Martin in the Manchester mills and Bridget working as a domestic servant. They did not have children until years later. It was just Martin and Bridget, two young adventurers that survived on love and respect for one another, as well as those elusive dreams that kept their future alive.
Martin and Bridget first settled in the town of Manchester, N.H., and worked their jobs with dedication and diligence. Both possessed an amazing work ethic fueled by this opportunity to earn wages without oppression. Martin, with his stubborn nature, attended church each Sunday with Bridget and her bright disposition. He with his dark features and she a real Irish beauty. Their relationship worked well and they stayed on the road of practicality believing only in what they knew about life.
It was within a few short years that Martin and Bridget loaded their acquired belongings and traveled north to Concord, where they would meet many Irish friends in the coming years. Martin continued to work long hours and Bridget did too, they were making their way in life and enjoyed the living they made. They were able to keep a roof over their heads, feed and clothe themselves too. America was a blessing and they appreciated the little they had, they made it work together and overcame any obstacle they found before them, young love has a way of doing that. Routine became their friend in Concord, steeped with common sense they continued to live in a very rational way.
Martin awoke early each morning to venture off to work while Bridget enjoyed some extra time beneath the bedcovers in solitude. It was the morning of Nov. 13, 1833, that started no differently than the days before. Martin ventured to his small kitchen for coffee and biscuits while Bridget enjoyed her extra dose of slumber. Morning was yet to arrive, the evening air was still quite chilly as Martin walked to his front porch sipping his strong black coffee, gazing towards the heavens the sky was without a cloud. There was no wind and the moon was absent, creating a very dark atmosphere for Martin.
As the minutes passed Martin stared into the dark sky, a bit annoyed by some form of flickering light off to the side. There was one and then another, and another and another. Martin was baffled, holding his steaming mug of black coffee he continued to watch for an extended period of time. Martin, the stubborn Irishman that lived the practical life was indeed baffled. This simply did not make sense, though he was witnessing a strange occurrence with his very own eyes he still held doubt. Perhaps his tired eyes were playing tricks on him, perhaps not. Martin walked to the side of the old road and continued to stare in disbelief.
Martin dropped his unfinished mug of coffee to the ground and sprinted to his front door, yelling to Bridget. Bridget, Bridget!!! You must wake up; the sky is snowing stars!!
So it was that very early in the morning before the sun did rise, my great great grandparents stood this cold Nov. 13 morn in the year 1833. They witnessed something that they felt was not possible. The stars now falling thickly from the darkened sky to the earth below. This event continued until the rising sun erased the phenomena, but it is a memory they held the rest of their lives.
Martin and Bridget always said it was the day they witnessed the snowing stars. It was in fact a massive number of meteors falling over New England. The event was documented. The superstitious felt it was a sign, while in fact it was simply a full-scale meteor shower.
It brings me comfort to think of my grandparents standing together gazing skyward in fascination. Yes it was snowing stars.