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catching poetry’s life lines
My parents were raised in rural County Derry at a time and place that produced the “folk healer,” that individual uniquely gifted with “the cure” or “the charm” for whatever ailed them. Consulted only after it was determined that the medical doctor was flummoxed, the folk healer meted out charms in plasters and poultices, in potions that swirled in brown bottles. It was…
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say thank you . . .
I’m supposed to be doing an assignment for my photography class. Weary of predictable photographs shot straight on, our instructor has assigned a prepositional scavenger hunt requiring us to shoot from various angles – against, across, beyond, beneath, around, behind, below, between, inside, outside, on top of, toward, through, and upon. And so it was that I found myself wandering…
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domestic affairs & northern ireland
Celebrating the Ordinary and things of a domestic nature: Day Six Before Home Economics was standard fare on the Northern Ireland curriculum, there was Domestic Science. Other than Physical Education, which I skillfully avoided with a note from my mother when I “had cramps,” it was my least favorite subject in school. It involved the planning of meals, cooking, baking, and, for a…
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sense and sensibility … and sensible hair
“Didn’t we used to call you Crystal Tipps?” Why yes, you did. Relentlessly. It was funnier to you than it was to me. Teetering on the edge of adolescence in the early seventies, I instinctively knew that Crystal’s coiffure, a big triangular purple frizz, belonged only on the BBC, in the groovy world of cut-out animation created by Hilary Hayton.…
