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Louisiana 2016 ~ Home Sweet Home
But it isn’t my home, now slowly melting down to sweeten the sea.” ~ Sara Cress: Poem for the Louisiana Flood Unprecedented and unexpected, the storm came like a hurricane with neither wind nor a name, but a relentless, record-breaking rain that over the course of four days wreaked havoc in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. According to Scientific American, this is a “once-in-a-1,000-year event” that has…
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Act Two, Blog Awards Ireland 2015, Dispatch from the Diaspora, Great Concert Venues, Great teachers, Memoir, Nick Hornby, Northern Ireland, Phoenix, pop culture, Record Shops, Seamus Heaney, Soundtracks of our Lives, The Troubles, Themes of childhood, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Van Morrison
on the list . . .
I love a list. It has a beginning and an ending. It’s a certainty. A sure thing. Naturally, then, I love Rob Gordon, a kindred spirit erstwhile hapless record shop owner in Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity. A compulsive maker of lists, his “top fives” run the gamut of pop culture, eclectic compilations that include his top five episodes of Cheers, top five Elvis Costello songs, and…
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Art, Belfast, Belfast Peace Lines, Berlin Wall, Borders, Bruce Springsteen, Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band, Coming of age, Gaza, Human Rights, Kai Wiedenhöfer, Memoir, Northern Ireland, Photography, The Troubles, United States-Mexico Border, W.B. Yeats, Writers
‘peace comes dropping slow’
I always thought Robert Frost was very sensible to ask so plainly in a poem we had to memorize for school, why it is that good fences make good neighbors: Before I built a wall I’d ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn’t love…
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Borders, Bruce Springsteen, DREAM Act, Human Rights, Kai Wiedenhöfer, Memoir, Northern Ireland, Photography
achtung baby . . . if walls could talk.
I always thought Robert Frost was right to ask so plainly in a poem we had to memorize for school, why it was that good fences make good neighbors: Before I built a wall I’d ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn’t love…