Two Brians: odd parallels

Both Brians' fathers were named Joseph, from whom each got his middle name.

Both descended from (different) men named Patrick Cantwell who emigrated from Castlecomer, Ireland, to the United States during the potato famine of the mid-1800s.

Seattleites both, at times. This Brian (the writer) was born here and has lived in Washington most of his life. The Other Brian first spent time in Seattle during a 1967 college internship at Boeing. That summer he met his wife-to-be, Ruth, who attended Seattle University.

Rocket science runs in the family: The Other Brian got his doctorate from Cal Tech and teaches aerospace and rocketry at Stanford. This Brian is the son of a Cal Tech grad who made an engineering career designing rockets for Boeing.

More Irish than the Irish?

"It's not really an Irish name, Cantwell," a sweet-natured Irish grandmother noted as we chatted in front of the County Kildare courthouse where my great-great-grandparents married in the early 1800s. And she was right: It doesn't start with an "O' " or a "Mc." The name is considered Norman in origin. The Normans were among invaders credited by some for assimilating and becoming "more Irish than the Irish." Some histories point to the name as a variation of Kentwell, of a clan coming from Kent, England. But tracing the family name beyond Ireland seems hopeless; the trail is lost in the smoke of ancient history (and of fires that long ago burned many records).

Not all will love you

We had high hopes for a spirited "reunion" with other Cantwell families in Castlecomer, Ireland. Before leaving Seattle, we conspired to put a notice in the local newspaper inviting all Cantwells to a picnic in a park or to join us for free beer in a local pub upon our arrival.

But it turned out few Cantwells remain in the town. Our innkeeper knew of only one family, headed by — another coincidence — a Joseph Cantwell (same name as our fathers). Once there, our phone messages on his answering machine went unreturned. Finally, our innkeeper paid him a visit and came back with a polite "no, thank you" to our invitation; nobody in his branch of the clan had emigrated, he said.

Don't be shocked by an occasional cool reception. During the Potato Famine alone, more than 1.5 million people emigrated from Ireland, and besides their legions of descendants coming back to search for old-country roots, the cult of St. Patrick worldwide attracts many Irish wannabes (called "Plastic Paddies" by Irishmen who don't relish their attentions).

Not all Irish people want to be someone's long-lost cousin.

— Brian J. Cantwell, Seattle Times Travel staff