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Belfast, Blogging, Brian Baird, cancer, Education, Fathers and sons, favorite teacher, Memoir, News, Northern Ireland, Seamus Heaney, Sectarianism, Social Media, television, The Diviner, The Forge, The Troubles, Walter Kronkite, Writing
In appreciation of a teacher . . .
Remembering Brian Baird . . . Once upon a time, before news traveled at break-neck speed to our smart phones and our Cable TV networks, we waited for it. We had no choice, and when “the news” came on at teatime, it was a serious affair that demanded our attention. It was rarely, if ever, about a new animal born at…
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“let your soul and spirit fly”
“Each of us, as we pass through life, leaves traces of the passage. Sometimes the signs are as slight as a bent leaf, a twisted twig, or a seed dispersed. Sometimes, we leave behind the husks of former selves or castaway restraints. While following these trails, we grow ever more aware of our lives in connection-to our foremothers, to the elemental…
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Act Two, Castledawson, Family, Memoir, Mother Daughter Relationship, Mother's Day, Northern Ireland, Northern Ireland Culture, Ordinary Things, Poetry, Rites of passage, Rituals, Seamus Heaney
my mother’s day dance
In Ireland, it is Mother’s Day. In Arizona, it is just another Sunday that finds me thinking about my mother – ma – in Castledawson, County Derry, a great armful of sheets rescued from the clothes-line before the rain begins to fall. Then, the folding, a precise ritual, and my father her partner in a dance handed down from one generation to the next.…
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Awesome Women, Birthdays, Christine Ohlman - "The Deep End", Concerts 2014, Crescent Ballroom - Dr. Dog, Great Concert Venues, Joan Osborne, John Prine, Memoir, MIM, Red Rocks Amphitheater, Rodney Crowell, Ryan Adams and Jenny Lewis, Steve Earle and Shawn Colvin, Steve Winwood, Stevie Wonder, The Crescent Ballroom, The Hold Steady, The Rhythm Room, The War on Drugs, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
cutting my own groove in 2014
Life isn’t some vertical or horizontal line — you have your own interior world, and it’s not neat. ~ Patti Smith How do I begin to pack the stuff of the past twelve months in a box and tie it up with a big red bow? Just begin. Pluck out a memory and wrap it up. Move on to the next…
