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From the Republic of Conscience, Human Rights, Loss, Nelson Mandela, Northern Ireland, Seamus Heaney, Soundtracks of our Lives, The Cure at Troy, Themes of Childhood, Writing
nelson mandela – once in a lifetime
Men and women, all over the world, right down the centuries, come and go. Some leave nothing behind, not even their names. ~ Nelson Mandela Nelson Mandela is gravely ill tonight with reports coming out of Pretoria, South Africa that he is on life support. He is at the end of his life, frail at 94, but in my mind’s…
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Belfast, Bullying, Damian Gorman, Eleventh Night Bonfires, Family, Friendships, Jilly Cooper, Memoir, Northern Ireland Culture, Sectarianism, Soundtracks of our Lives, The Troubles, Themes of Childhood
skipping out of northern ireland – an incendiary subject
“On yonder hill there stands a lady Who she is, I do not know. All she wants is gold and silver, All she wants is a handsome beau . . .” My breath quickens with every tentative jump over the skipping rope, its ends twirled by two girls who are singing about the lady standing on the hill. I am wearing…
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Actors, Art, Children's Books, Gary Shteyngart, HBO, James Gandolfini, Maurice Sendak, Memoir, Soundtracks of our Lives, television, The Sopranos, Themes of Childhood, Where The Wild Things Are
james gandolfini with the wild things now
The only non-book on my bookshelves is the Sopranos DVD collection. Apropos that it sits among some of the most compelling stories ever told because, as Gary Shteyngart says, The Sopranos is “storytelling for the new century.” And, a good story lasts forever. Every night at 8PM my husband asks me, “So are you ready for Tony and the boys?” and we…
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American Dream, Belfast, Friendships, Memoir, Music, Northern Ireland, Soundtracks of our Lives, summer camp, The Troubles, Themes of Childhood, Writing
coming to america … the reprise
I arrived in America in the summer of 1984, before my final year at Stranmillis College in Belfast. The first words spoken to me in America, “Keep on rollin’, lady,” fell impatiently from the lips of an unwelcoming security guard as I collected my rucksack and proceeded through Customs and Immigration at John F. Kennedy international airport, confirming for me…