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Too many silent nights
December 14, 2012 Cold and lifeless, the bodies of twenty children lie where they were gunned down that morning at Sandy Hook Elementary School. The crime scene, just a day before, was a school. The medical examiner’s team begins its work through the night to make sure there are no mistakes, no shadow of doubt about the names of those…
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Being young, Coming of age, Death and dying, John Lennon, learning to drive, Memoir, Mother Daughter Relationship, riding a bicycle, saying goodbye, Starting over, Time, widowed
How to ride a bike . . .
"And what is a bicycle? It is trust and balance, and that's what love is. Love is trust and balance." - Nikki Giovanni
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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
a dance for mother’s day
It is Mother’s Day in Ireland. I am hoping the flowers arrived and that the florist remembered to write on the card, “I’ll see you next weekend.” It’s been a long three years, the pandemic and its attendant restrictions keeping us apart. As my brother – only 250 odd miles away from her – reminded me, “this thing has made…
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Language of Cancer, Leontia Flynn, Memoir, Northern Ireland, Rituals, Seamus Heaney, Themes of childhood
P.S. The Lovely Uselessness of Poetry
Ukrainian-American poet, Ilya Kaminsky, writes in the New York Times, of his desperation to find ways out of Ukraine for his friends - writers, poets, and translators. Many of them do not want to leave their homes, even as Russia continues to bombard their cities: I ask how I can help. Finally, an older friend, a lifelong journalist, writes back:…
