I was lucky enough to spend an evening chatting with Mrs. Kitty Moran in early 2021. About life: childhood, songs, rugby league, Ireland, England, nursing and all points in between. What a woman - wise, funny, and one of those people who you sense was just 100% herself. If ever I need reminding of what a blessing and a gift it it is to record someone, I listen to this. So it seems like the perfect way to open this first series of Out On The Ocean, a podcast about living. The opening mix was composed from found sounds I had around the place; the alto sax version of Out On The Ocean was played by Johnny McKeague; and the tunes in the episode are performed by Jody Moran. And as mentioned in my outro, here is Jody's eulogy for his mum, from June 30th 2021. It’s a real shame mum couldn’t be with us today as she loved a good funeral. She had more names than anyone – Kate, Cath, Cathy, Kathleen, Kath, Kitty, mum, nan, nanny, nanny moran, and she’s the only person outside the queen I know with 2 birthdays. As it was a bad winter, her dad, Joe only made it to the registry office in Galway 2 months late so her official birthday is actually 6th April. Her mum, Jane, was livid that he hadn’t put his foot down and changed it to the correct date! She was born with the gift of caring and this was a gift that stayed with her until the day she died. I’m sure you all have wonderful memories of her generosity of spirit and not letting anybody be left wanting. At a very young age she was sent from her homeland in Tysaxon to look after her grandma and 2 bachelor uncles in Tyquin as there was no-one else to do it. Her older sister Margaret was needed at home and her younger brothers and sisters weren’t old enough. Everyone will know the story off by heart how she would have to milk the cows, collect the eggs, make the breakfast, cut the turf and stack the hay all before walking the 2miles to school, sometimes in her bare feet! The tale seemed to grow more elaborate the more she told it. She got her love of the land and farming from being there, although she dearly missed having her brothers and sisters close by. I often wonder what impact that had on the person she turned out to be? She would eagerly await her dad coming over the hill on the horse and trap and look forward to the trips into Athenry with Margaret, Paddy, Peadar, May, Celia, and Brid to charge the battery or go to the local shop for sweets, only to be dropped back to Tyquin and the older generation. She never showed any outward resentment about this. She would have preferred to have been back in the thick of it with the other kids but it was just a duty she knew she had to fulfil. She often said she would have loved to have had her own bit of land and a few animals,but God had a different path for her. When mum was only 16 she got a nannying job in Tourmakeady, county Mayo for the Burke’s - a family with 6 young children. She then made her way to Bolton in 1957 to pursue nursing and eventually midwifery on the district in the streets of Wigan, cycling between the houses with her head lamp on and not a phone in sight. She was the original ‘Call the midwife’, and all of the babies she assisted with, which were well into the 100s and many in breech position, were all delivered safely and only a few times did she have to call for extra help. She would often be stopped in the street years later and thanked by the mothers she had helped through their labours. It was at a dance in Bolton in 1959 she met Pat, the love of her life and, after getting married in 1963, they initially moved in with dad’s family in Norley Hall and eventually to Ormskirk Road where she resided for 44yrs until retiring to Billinge. As well as raising her own family of 4 young boys and working as a nurse, she looked after dad’s mum, their next door neighbours, his two elderly aunties, and plenty of others over the years, none of whom were blood relatives! Her selfless pot of care was unending. She was the school nurse at St Thomas More where we went to school and also a matron at Mahogany, the nursing home down the road. It was difficult to ever remember a time she raised her voice or got cross. Dad admitted he tried manys the time to make her vexed but he said ‘not once did she take the bait’! She scolded the nurses one day who were whingeing about going to see one of the patients. Mum said, it doesn’t matter what he has done or what you think of him, he deserves to be treated just the same as anyone else. She loved her work as a nurse and it really suited her caring personality but not once did she complain or, if she did, it was in silence. Rugby league was the sport of choice in Wigan – she thought it was brutal and, if she had had her way, none of us would have played it. She said you just had to be able to run and be as daft as you could be to play rugby league. There were many times after we had come off with a black eye or broken nose she’d say (quite rightly!!), ‘I don’t know why you play that stupid game’. Mum was the designated taxi driver, the maker of food, the washer of clothes, the cleaner of boots, the darner or socks, sewer of hems and fixer of wounds. She secretly loved watching Wigan Warriors though and would be full of chat about who they were playing and who should have done what. She didn’t seem to mind rugby if her kids weren’t the ones getting injured! She’d patiently stand on the sideline in the freezing cold and embarrass us at the end of the game because when the other lads would have half an orange, she’d have a bag full of tuna and cucumber butties for us to munch through! She never asked for help with any of it but even so, we all stood by and let her do it which lead to another unthanked caring role. So, if we didn’t say it often enough, we appreciate every little thing you did for us, mum. When dad got sick towards the end, mum cared for him and was widowed far too young in 1989 when he passed away suddenly, leaving her to support and nurture us boys. Even though she would have been heartbroken and grieving terribly, she did her utmost to not let it impact us. She did an amazing job as a single mum - no-one was left hungry, disappointed or without anything they needed. In hindsight it would have been wonderful if she had met someone but she just had the one love and that was enough for her. Despite leaving Ireland when she was young she had a nostalgic flame and kept actively involved with the Irish community through the Brian Boru and would drive the length and breadth of the country to bring us to competitions which she also herself competed in,performing ballad songs. She was proud of her Irishness and pined for her homeland which we visited annually as a family during our summer holidays. She loved the week in Miltown Malbay at the Willie Clancy festival, taking part in the singing sessions in Marrinan’s pub with her trusty Dictaphone by her side. She’d learn the new songs when she came home in time for the next festival. If she was a spectator at a music session, she’d just wait patiently with a Schweppe’s orange until we were ready to leave in the early hours. She never once grumbled about being tired or ever suggested we should leavebefore we were ready. She was a willing volunteer to sing at the drop of a hat – on a Sunday evening at the Brian after being asked to come up and sing something she’d say ‘what do you think I should sing?’ Only then to see her take the words from her pocket of a song she’d been learning!! And who can forget ‘Christmas time in Ireland’ at the session on Boxing Day?! She absolutely adored all her daughters in law, Catherine, Helen, Rachael and Anna and was besotted with all her grandchildren – Finn, Tadgh, Ruairidh, Cullain, Liam, Patrick, Caragh, Seanan, Caitlin, James, Michael, Ailish, Pascal, Dympna, Fergal and her great grand daughter Ella, also their partners and welcomed them all, no matter what time of the day or night. She was famed far and wide for her ability to ‘nursey tight’ and managed to rock even the most unsettled child to sleep within minutes. She’d never forget a birthday and was the world’s best at finding the most appropriately worded cards – “to a dear son and daughter in law and her second cousin twice removed” Or wrapping up a little present for you whether it be socks, deodorant, or an old cassette. She lovingly found a packet of nice handkerchiefs with the letter D embossed on them for her grand daughter caragh. She said they didn’t have anyones left with the letter C on them! Her favourite radio station RTE was on all day long, crackling in the background. Even when she had the opportunity to get digital quality, she stuck to the old small wireless with antenna. She had an uncanny ability of turning a small bit of chicken and mushrooms into a feast for anyone who turned up. She made a killer apple crumble and her mince pies were to die for. She could rustle up a meal regardless of your dietary requirements. I think she learnt her lesson after meeting Catherine for the first time. She’d been told by Shaun that Catherine was a vegetarian but I’m not sure she knew what that meant and ended up making a chicken casserole. When Sean explained she lovingly said, ‘well that’s ok, can’t she just pick out the bits of chicken?’ If you came for a visit you were the world’s most welcome guest and she couldn’t let you go without coming out to the street to give you a good old wave. Her house, was your house, and it was a higgledy piggledy treasure trove of bric a brac. Organised chaos some people would call it. Scraps of news cuttings about Jurgen Klopp stuck on the wall with a sewing needle, the Child of Prague next to a pair of shoes, or a spool of cotton, right next to a pair of knitting needles and a lonely cassette on top of Billy the stuffed dog who happen
