What I already knew about Lillian Hardy, or Auntie Lilly, as she is referred to by her family, was not much before we sat down and spoke on March 17th, 2008. I did, however, know that she grew up in Dublin - South Circular Road to be exact, and she still lives there, 88 years and counting.

"You're Jewish ?" she told me, is the response of just about everyone she speaks to when the discussion of religion is brought up.

"I am!"she responds.

And so are both sides of my family, many of whom still live in Dublin.

Auntie Lilly is the eldest member of my mother's side still in contact, and I sat down with her on March 17th, Saint Patrick's Day, to get to know what living in Dublin as an orthodox Jew, was like...

I walked into the Sutton Place hotel on a rainy Monday morning, still shaking off the cobwebs from a pre-Saint Paddy's day weekend celebration. Sitting wide-eyed and perky on the lobby sofa was Auntie Lilly.

Her bright red lipstick and purple eye shadow harmonized perfectly, and her patented auburn hair grabbed my attention straight away, as always. She stood up to greet me with two kisses on the cheek, the lipstick smeared kind that my brothers and I have been used to wiping off since we were children.

We both sat down.

One thing that everyone should know is the obsession Irish people have with talking about the weather.

"It's a miserable day, the rain has been pouring down all morning," she said as she stared out the window.

"Oh it's horrible. You must've brought the weather with you!" I replied with a smile.

I knew how cliche the statement was, as I've heard my parents utter the same words countless times to relatives who've come over from Ireland. Just like past relatives, Auntie Lilly was in Vancouver for a batmitzvah. It was her fifth trip to Vancouver to see her family in the last 10 years - quite remarkable considering she never thought she'd be back.

"Every time I leave Vancouver I say the same thing, 'You better say goodbye because you'll never see me again,'" she would innocently say.

I told her the purpose behind our talk, that I would like to get a sense of what it was like to grow up in such a predominantly Catholic country, and that I would be keeping a record of our conversation. I was nervous of how she would respond to being told that things that she says about her past are being documented, but she smiled and willingly told me to ask away.

"My childhood was quite similar to everyone else's at the time...," she began.

"...I went to a little national school when I was three and a half, and later on I went to Wesley College when I was ten. In Dublin, secondary school were called colleges. And life was fun; there were dances, events, groups of us. There was a Jewish club called Maccabi Dublin where we had our dances and played our sport: cricket, rugby, tennis."

Nowadays, the Jewish community in Dublin is diminishing due to the amount of emigration amongst families. Many seek jobs and opportunities elsewhere that are not offered in Dublin. Tradition of the community in Dublin certainly exists, and more modern dates go back to before WWII.

According to Paul Margolis, editor of the Jewish Heritage Report and author of the article "Ireland's Jews: A Fading Tribe on the Emerald Isle", the community has been reduced "from nearly 6,000 in the 1940's to just over 1,000 today." He believes that within a generation or two, only a handful of Jews are likely to remain. And Lilly agrees...

On Why Jews Started Leaving

"Well, years ago before the wave that came over during the war, mostly Jewish people wanted their children to be professionals, because the parents weren't. Doctors, dentists, chemists, anything! They wanted the best for their children.

When my father came to Dublin he lived on a little street called Warren Street, you know, tiny little houses. As he and everyone else became more affluent, we moved to South Circular Road to the bigger houses. We, along with other Jewish families, moved as we made more money, like now, like everybody does. Then when I was about 13 or 14, they spread out more to better areas again. Nowadays, the better areas are outside of Dublin, there's nowhere to go for opportunity but overseas."

What had started out to be a conversation between two people, had turned into a tale about the life of one. Unbeknownst to Auntie Lilly, a small gathering had formed on the sofa opposite us, consisting of a middle-aged Vancouver woman, and what looked like her two daughters. They, as I, were focused on every word Lilly spoke.

"How many siblings did you grow up with ? " I asked her, trying to keep her attention on me so she wouldn't notice the attention that had centered around her

"Well, Edwin, my oldest brother, died when he was 16 of meningitis. Penicillin was invented the year after he was born, which probably would have saved his life. Then there was Louis who was five years younger than me, then Jerry, then Solly, and Malcolm was the baby; he died when he was four months.

Jerry was the first of my family to move away. He couldn't get along with his brothers so he went across the Rockies and settled in Vancouver. He said he liked the climate. I was close with Louis, Louis was the best. He married Jill, and when Louis died, Jill and I grew older together. She was like a sister to me. We didn't always agree, but we were very close and we loved each other. She was so tough. I remember when she got sick in Israel and I thought she'd never recover, and it took her two years to get back to health. She was so good the way she accepted everything. "

"Did you grow up orthodox?" I asked.

"Yes, we grew up quite orthodox because my grandmother was orthodox and she spoke Yiddish to us, very little English. When my grandparents left Russia, they left and thought they were in New York, but they were in Cork! So they stayed, then moved to Dublin.

We were used to being orthodox; we celebrated all the festivals and Friday night we would never go out. But we weren't orthodox on purpose, thats just the way it was to be Jewish, you either were or you weren't, there was no in between, and if you were Jewish, you were orthodox."

"What was synagogue like. Were there many, were there enough, was there support for the Jewish community?" I asked.

"Oh yes! My father was president of the shul, called Lennox Street shul. This is the kind of shul it was, you'll love this...," Lilly loves a laugh, and she was getting excited telling me how different things were when she was growing up.

"The men were in the front, right, and there was a curtain, and the women were behind it. But even still, that was only for the high holidays. Women didn't go to shul at all, it was just the men. I didn't go to shul 'till I was married! Imagine that, not going to your religious place of worship until you're married. But that's the way it was, and no one argued, or raised their eyebrows. So Lennox Street shul was the early shul, then Adelaide shul, but now that's closed down too, and theres only one left: Terenure shul."

"And how was the support from the government? " I asked.

"Oh there was lots of support, and there still is! The Lord Mayor of Dublin, Bobby Briscoe, was Jewish, and he also fought in the IRA (Irish Republican Army). So there was a good connection and support in that sense. Also, when its the Holocaust Day of Remembrance there's a big function in the Mansion House in Dublin, and when its Hanukkah, candles are lit in the center of Dublin. There was never any division between Jews and non-Jews. It's always been that way, and I'm sure it always will be as long as there is a community there."

Lilly was giving me a great sense of what it was like growing up in Dublin during the years before I was there. I was born in Dublin in 1987, and after living 12 years of my life, my family and I emigrated to Vancouver.

My family is a prime example of a Jewish family that leaves Dublin. When I asked my Mum why we left, and why we came to Vancouver, she told me that there was more opportunity in Vancouver for my brothers and I. After speaking with Lilly, I had the feeling that that was the answer I would get, so I asked her to elaborate.

"Life in Dublin is great; the people are happy, friendly, easygoing. The climate's not the best, but if your doing well for yourself, you can live a great life. But for some, the lifestyle isn't as great as all those things I mentioned. We visited family in Vancouver and fell in love with it. Everyone was at the right age, and your father and I wanted to venture into a new business with new ideas. So we packed up and moved out of Dublin."

"Who were the first people you met" ? I asked.

"Well, one of the first things we did was join a synagogue, Schara Tzedeck. So we made friends through the synagogue first, and then more after that. We quickly noticed that the Jewish community in Vancouver was a lot more liberal than in Dublin. We kept kosher in Dublin, in terms of not eating pork, and not mixing milk and meat, but we noticed that for the families we met, it's a lot easier to not keep kosher here. Maybe it's because Dublin is a lot smaller than Vancouver so the community in Dublin is more tightly knit.

If I see someone from the shul in Dublin buying a shoulder of ham at the local Safeway, everyone within the community could find out within a few hours. We still have our rules though; we were all raised keeping kosher, and we always will. Here, you can follow the rules of the religion in a freer fashion."

I feel that what my Mum said was right. Keeping kosher in Dublin wasn't an option. If you were Jewish and were involved in the community, there was no doubt about keeping kosher, the option wasn't available. I asked Lilly what kinds of shops were around for the community when she was growing up...

"Oh we wouldn't dream of eating anything but kosher food. There was a place on the South Circular Road called Clanbrassil Street, where all the Jewish shops were. There were Jewish butchers, groceries, it was the Jewish area, and there was enough there for a strong community to live.

I remember, when I was a young girl, carrying a live chicken to the bath and giving it to the shochet (ritual slaughterer) to kill. All the feathers had to be plucked off, killed, and soaked in water for half an hour and then salted. I remember helping my mum with the plucking. It had to be killed a certain way for it to be kosher, and it has to be killed cleanly. You see, Jewish people don't eat pork because it's an unclean animal, and we don't eat the hind quarters of any animal. But there was always enough Jewish butchers and shops around. We all did our bit within our families, and that was that, that was the way of life."

Lilly spoke with reflection. I could see the past glaze over her eyes as she remembered fond memories from her childhood and early youth. So far, I had learned from Lilly how her childhood represented the majority of many Jewish children growing up in Dublin. And Lilly embraced talking about being part of a such a strong community.

Until I asked her about WWII...

"The war was terrible. And we were bombed! It was a mistake, but they dropped bombs on South Circular Road. My aunties house was badly damaged, even our house was damaged! I remember going under the stairs; we were afraid of our lives.

Later on we joked about how the only houses that we knew of to accidentally have bombs dropped on them were on South Circular Road, but we were certain it was a mistake. It was scary though. We would hear what was going on to millions of Jews around Europe, and we were terrified. We didn't know what would happen. It was not a nice time."

"Speaking of wars", I continued, "how has the current situation in Israel been perceived in Dublin ?"

"Well we have a great relationship with Israel. But often you'll read in the paper about the people who are against the Jewish people because of the situation that's going on over there, but that's difficult. Nobody knows what's really going on , so you just have to let people say what they think and move on. You can't take it personally."

Almost 45 minutes had gone by, and the observing lady and her daughters hadn't moved a muscle since sitting down opposite us. Lilly and I were both enjoying each other's company, and I was pleasantly surprised with the things I had learned about the past. However, with all that I had heard, I wanted to here more about the differences between then and now.

"People were more religious back then. Not because there was a bigger community, but things were just different. For example, the worst thing a Jewish person could do was marry out. Marrying out was when a Jewish person married a non-Jewish person. It was deemed so terrible that families would sit Shiva if someone married out. (Sitting Shiva is the act of sitting on a low stool while others pay their respects. It is performed during mourning the death of a family member)

I had an uncle who married out. He moved to Liverpool and became a doctor and married a very nice girl, but then he went off with the nurse, who wasn't Jewish. And my mother never spoke to him again all her life, because it was considered something so terrible. But nowadays, it's acceptable to marry someone who isn't Jewish. I say who cares either way. But it just shows you how different it was then compared to now. And I remember that, you see, I remember what it was like to live with such rules, and now it's different."

Things were different, and according to Lilly, a woman who has been immersed in the Irish way of Judaism for 88 years, things had certainly changed. As I spoke to her I couldn't help but notice the satisfaction she got from speaking about her memories. So I asked her what she is most proud of...

"My family! I have the most wonderful nieces and nephews and children and grandchildren. I'm proud of their families and of how everyone has turned out. I love coming to Vancouver and seeing all my children, well I call them my children but their my nieces and nephews and everyone I love.

I always think I'll never see them again because I'm getting old. And I'm proud of being Jewish! I still go to shul every every Shabbat. It's very pleasant, the service isn't too long, and we don't have to go until half past ten. It finishes at 12, and I love the kiddish, and I see everyone and have a nice old chat!"

And that's exactly what Auntie Lilly and I had, a "nice old chat".

According to Lilly, life in Dublin's Jewish community was fun, and still is. Sure, the facilities aren't around like they used to be. Maccabi Dublin has made way for a non-Jewish leisure center, many shops have closed down due to the declining population, and all but one synagogue has closed down also.

But what I learned about living in the Jewish community in Dublin over a half-century ago, and what it's like now, has taught me that however things have changed, a strong sense of tradition is being brought to the forefront, through memory. Auntie Lilly showed me that sometimes memories are all we have, because "people move on and that's the way life is".

"I have 2 children of my own, Edwin and Janice, 6 grandchildren, 8 great grandchildren, 12 nieces and nephews, and 13 grand nieces and nephews, and I'm not slowing down one bit."

With that, Lilly and I stood up, she put her arm around mine, and we walked towards the door.