Since the inception of Swampscott Unites, Respects and Embraces (S.U.R.E.) Diversity, its members have often been asked about the limited notion of what diversity means, with the conversation frequently focusing only on racial identity. In response, founding member Martha Curry created a world map for a S.U.R.E. Diversity event, inviting attendees to place a pin marking where their ancestors came from. Within a short time, more than 60 countries were represented.
Swampscott is a multicultural community with a rich tapestry of backgrounds and experiences. To highlight some of those stories, the Swampscott Tides has partnered with S.U.R.E. Diversity on its “Tell Us Your Story” project, inviting individuals to share where their ancestors came from, why they came, and what their heritage means to them.
These vignettes will be featured in the Swampscott Tides every other week and are also archived at the Swampscott Public Library.
If you would like to be included in the series, please send your 200-word story and photos to info@surediversity.org.
This week’s Tell Us Your Story is by Pat Gorham.
The O’Malleys on my father’s side came from Ireland in the mid-1800s, fleeing the Great Famine. They crossed the ocean to New York, then made their way to Scranton, Pennsylvania,
where they worked – men, women, and children — in the coal mines. Life there was harsh — long hours, dangerous conditions, coal dust. Eventually, they moved again, this time to Buffalo, New York, trading the mines for the steel mills in search of something better.
They were poor, and formal education was out of reach. But they were knowledgeable in many
areas of life. They were self-taught and passed it along in the way they knew best — through stories. This is something they learned back in Ireland.
Stories taught lessons. Stories entertained. Stories filled long evenings and eased hard days.
Through stories, they made sense of the world, shared humor, preserved memories and welcomed others in. Storytelling wasn’t just something they did — it was how they lived, how they connected. It was the thread that held everything together.
That same thread ran through South Buffalo, the Irish neighborhood where I grew up. Front porches, kitchen tables, corner pubs — there were lively stories all around. Some were funny, some were wise, some were exaggerated just enough to keep you listening. And while many storytellers were Irish, not all of them were. The gift of storytelling belonged to the neighborhood itself. It was something you learned simply by being there — by listening, laughing and joining in.
Years later, I visited Ireland. There were seemingly familiar faces everywhere – passers by could have been my siblings or cousins with their fair skin and light eyes. And just as familiar was the storytelling. Strangers welcomed me with warmth, often with a story.
One moment stands out. Our taxi driver, originally from Morocco, had been living in Ireland for over 30 years. He was a tall, stately man with deep dark skin. He too, was a natural storyteller — the friendliness, the humor, the natural and authentic way of connecting. It struck me then that this wasn’t something carried in the blood. It was something absorbed over time, shaped by place and people.
What stays with me about my ancestry is this: their hardships taught resilience, but their
storytelling taught connection. And that connection wasn’t inherited like my red hair and freckles — it was learned, passed from person to person, neighbor to neighbor, generation to generation.
