The first sentence of “In Search of the Banished Children” is a stand-alone paragraph, and it frames the essay so that the recollection of the past Famine Migration of the 1840s is less of a discussion of a historical event but a discussion of Irish inheritance for Peter Quinn. There is no evidence to show for the great grandparents of his that migrated to America in desperation and built themselves into White America but such is the “plight of the poor throughout history.” Memories of the past run through our veins influencing out actions and reactions whether we are cognizant of them or not, and the histories that are too painful to recall and reminisce over are banished to our subconscious where they remain only to identify our roots, although we may not necessarily identify with them. Quinn’s Irish roots come from “people beyond [his] knowing” but their creation of an American identity for themselves resides in the Catholic school he attended and the union his father was a part of.
It’s interesting—every time one recalls a memory, it is inherently modified, if only slightly, by the recollection and the manner in which it was recollected in the moment. Quinn evokes a paradox in that memory is “unique to each one of us,” yet it is “familial, tribal [and] communal.” We inherit our history from our ancestry, in whatever manner that may be, and while we can never forget, we choose if we want to remember.
