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a mother’s days
Each day we move a little closer to the sidelines of their lives, which is where we belong, if we do our job right.–-Anna Quindlen I quit work for a year after my daughter was born. It was the best year of my life, with Sophie attached to me in one of those baby carriers without which I would have been unprepared for motherhood. That’s what the salesperson in Babies R Us had told me. Some days I made it out of my pajamas, but only if I felt like walking out to the mailbox. I was usually bare-faced unlike Dolly Parton, who is always in full-make up, “ambulance, tornado, and earthquake ready” – and who…
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favorite teacher, Frank O'Connor, Great teachers, Memoir, Mr. Jones, Music, Short Stories, Teacher Appreciation Week, Teaching, Themes of childhood
every day is teacher appreciation day
A postscript:I am very sad to hear that my favorite teacher, Mr. Jones, died last week. His wife emailed me with the news, and she also took the time to tell me how pleased he had been to see me over a decade ago when I was back home. I’ve thought about that afternoon in Belfast often. Partly because it gave me the chance to finally say thank you properly - over pints in Robinson's - and partly because it reminded me how rarely we do that sort of thing, especially with our teachers. They spend their lives shaping the lives of other people, and then they tend to just…
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where the kettle’s always on
It is Mother's Day in Northern Ireland. With all good intention, I had marked the day on my calendar but still forgot to send a card, time running away from me like Bukowski’s wild horses. The water is wide, but it will take only a second to transport me back to my mother's kitchen. I'll pick up the phone to tell her about my good intentions this Mother’s Day and sorry about the card. She'll tell me in the parlance, to catch myself on. I make a mental to note to call the florist in Magherafelt tomorrow.
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How to Open a Book
Some years ago, science fiction writer, John Scalzi, penned a homage to the libraries of his life prompting me to do the same today, World Books Day. Not a bricks and mortar library, my childhood library was a bus full of magic that visited a housing estate on Antrim’s Dublin Road every week. Although a world away from the United States, it was probably what Thomas Jefferson had in mind: I have often thought that nothing would do more extensive good at small expense than the establishment of a small circulating library in every county, to consist of a few well-chosen books, to be lent to the people of the country…
