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a rainy day kind of woman
The other day a Facebook memory popped up to remind me that my actual memory just isn’t what it used to be. There I am in the boots i’ve owned since 1982, perched on a freeway wall with my camera focused on something in the distance. But what? Unable to let go of this – and another thing that I’ll…
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a rainy day in phoenix – remembering phil lynott
It wasn’t until I turned fifty that I realized that: a) I would never make enough money to go to a job I hate every day and b) money really isn’t everything although I have often acted as though it is. Much to the chagrin of Suze Orman, I don’t organize it neatly in a wallet, and I honestly couldn’t tell…
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saving for a rainy day . . . in Phoenix
When I turned fifty (admittedly a while ago), I realized that: a) I would never make enough money to go to a job I hate every day and b) money really isn’t everything although I have often acted as though it is. Much to the chagrin of Suze Orman, I don’t organize money neatly in my wallet, and I honestly couldn’t tell…
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Act Two, After death of a spouse, Arizona, Being a Widow, Belfast, Blog Awards Ireland 2014, Death of parent, Doris Kearns Goodwin, Dr. Mary McAleese, Fatherless daughters, First birthday without him, George Moore, Irish culture, Irish Diaspora, Joseph O'Connor, Language of Cancer, McClelland Irish Library, Memoir, Milestones, Northern Ireland, Phoenix, Rites of passage, saying goodbye, The Canon of Expectation, The Good Friday Agreement, The Peace Process, The Troubles, Themes of childhood
neither here nor there: a note from the irish diaspora (& widowhood)
The immigrant’s heart marches to the beat of two quite different drums, one from the old homeland and the other from the new. The immigrant has to bridge these two worlds, living comfortably in the new and bringing the best of his or her ancient identity and heritage to bear on life in an adopted homeland. — FORMER IRISH PRESIDENT…