Was I scared? You have to know I was . . .

I remember leaving the "Home" in shirt, shorts, and suspenders, and the nun who walked me to the car told me I was going on a plane to America to a new family. I asked her where my old family was.

She just said they were gone and that I should be delighted that someone else would want me. She was holding my hand and I didn't want to let go. I had no idea what she was talking about. I should have been happy, but I didn't want to leave.

I flew from Belfast to New York on a Trans World Airlines Constellation. Ten days earlier, I had been driven to Dublin and issued a work Visa to work in Canada, in the United States of America and in Newfoundland.

Arriving tired after my trip from Belfast to New York. 

This picture was taken in early 1950, about six months after I arrived. I'm the dapper one on the left . . . with my new family. My new brother, Tim is two years older than me. I can still remember my mom's hat, her beautiful Irish skin, and her soft Irish smile. My dad was of Swedish heritage and always seemed to be in a "hurry."