RayDowd

Thomas Raymond Dowd was born in Tibohine, County Roscommon in the Irish Republic on July 6, 1926. He was the eldest son of Owen and Bobbi (ne, Sharkey) Dowd. Ray emigrated to New Jersey in the United States following World War II and served in the Army Artillery during the Korean War. Ray joined John Giblin's Stationary Engineers Union and was employed at the Pabst Blue Ribbon Brewery until his retirement. Ray married Cathleen Bradley of County Sligo and they raised three sons and two daughters who bore them lovely grandchildren. Ray remained loyal to his Irish culture and his County Roscommon, particularly Gaelic Football, which he followed in his weekly newspaper subscriptions to the Irish Echo and Western People. Ray succumbed to a prolonged illness in March, 2010, and was buried at Immaculate Conception Cemetary in Montclair, New Jersey.

sligobay

Ray of Roscommon

Owen and Bobbi saw the Rising

And survived the tragic civil war;

Their fabric was sewn together

By threads of love spooled from their core.

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With the new hope of their Nation

Glistened a special ray of sun;

Voices raised in jubilation

Christened Thomas Raymond their son;

ooOOoo

Nineteen twenty-six brought this freeman

Three centuries under British reign;

religious rights were the bargain

Ulster's six counties left in chain.

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An irish hunger swelled their bellies

Generations lost to foreign land;

Enduring hope sown deep in families

Would reap a harvest for Ireland.

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The eldest son of Owen Dowd

Bobbi Sharkey was his mother;

Ray's whole life made family proud

Helping others was never a bother.

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Ray tended to the family farm

He honed his father's scythe;

And kept his siblings safe from harm

His good example was their guide.

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But the time came for this young man

from beloved Ireland to sail away;

With courage he traveled with no plan

To be sure one brother could stay.

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No greater act of sacrifice

Was known to the world for all time;

For an Irishman to pay the price

To go and leave his home behind.

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For work and future, he went away

To strange and distant foreign shore;

And made his way to Amerikay

Where he was called to fight a war.

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From Ireland's sane neutrality

Where peace in world war prevailed;

Ray was drafted for artillery

And off to Korea he sailed.

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Ray served his country honourably

Amid frigid snows and frost;

God carried him home to sweet Cathleen

From Asia, where many lives were lost.

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Cathleen Bradley became his bride

And bore him daughters and three sons;

His family always was his pride

But he found joy where the pony runs.

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Ray Dowd joined John Giblin's Union

Where employment was made secure;

Which he served in great communion

So rights of Labour would endure.

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Ray's labour bouts were " Lucky Strikes"

As he brewed Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer;

Labour disputes were fought with pikes

Voted democratic every year.

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Raymond stayed fast to his values

His faith, family and his word;

To country and county, true blue

Quiet man, yet his voice was heard.

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Gaelic athletics, his passion

Western Peoples gave him his news;

He played football when in fashion

Saw All-Ireland Finals in autumn hues.

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Family and friends held him dear

With patience and wisdom was he blessed;

Roscommon hailed him as 'Man of the Year'

'Twas the craic that he loved best.

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There was no taller man of kindness

There was no warmer man of care;

No greater friend to friendless

Ray shone hope where he found despair.

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"Save a soul", his faith had taught him

And spread love to your fellow man;

Never doubt that God is present

As his servant, t'was no better man.

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Ray wasn't burdened with money

By which many measure their worth;

The strangest things struck him funny

He loved laughter and was full of mirth;

ooOOoo

Pop was a husband and brother

Father, uncle, cousin and son;

He taught us to love each other

His grandkids ranked him number one.

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Ray's flown to Roscommon's Races

Mounting Pegasus to heaven wing;

He's put his horse through its paces

A winning ticket has just cashed in.

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The world is now a better place

Because Raymond Dowd stopped by;

Remember him who touched our hearts

Where he's bound, all the ponies fly.

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with love and respect,

Gerry Gilligan, copyright 2010 all rights reserved