Week ending 30th August 2011
Many people have heard of or seen Brian Friel’s play: “Philadelphia, here I come” or they remember the old song: “I’m off to Philadelphia in the morning.” It is my great pleasure to announce that Philadelphia is coming home at last in the title of Nancy Carney’s new book: “Farewell Philadelphia.” Nancy Foy, as I remember her, is from the Belcarra/Ballinafad part of the Mayo, and is married to Tom Carney, and has lived and continues to live in Castlebar. I have ordered her book from AuthorHouse (AuthorHouse.co.uk) and will review it when I have it read, but for now I congratulate her and wish her well with sales.
When I was all of eight years old and still awaiting my religious vocation, I have to admit that I admired Nancy Foy from a distance when we were both pupils in Clogher National school, a few miles east of Ballintubber. There was a popular song at the time: “The yellow rose of Texas,” that I felt could have been written for Nancy Foy, with her long blonde hair and beautiful face. I met her briefly at a funeral many years after we had moved on from Clogher, and must admit to great surprise and delight when I had a call from her earlier this year to say she had a book ready for publication. Having read an article I had written about a novel I had just published through AuthorHouse (Godfool) she was inquiring about details. Eight months later her book is on the shelves.
Tommie Heneghan is aother publshed author from Clogher school, and there may be many more. Our teacher, Joe Mitchell from Logaphuill did put a lot of emphasis on writing and composition. Speaking about imagination recently to pupils in Carna’s Scoil Mhic Dara, I was telling them about the title of an essay Mr Mitchell asked us to write when the second Soviet sputnik was put into orbit, carrying a little dog called Loika. The title of the essay was: “I am a flea on the back of the dog which was sent into space.” The idea of seeing things through different eyes, the eye of the flea in this case, certainly inspired me, and is probably the reason I continue to write.
“Farewell Philadelphia” wil be officially launched on 11th November 2011 in the Linenhall Arts Centre, Castlebar by John Grant of Western Alzheimers Association, and donations from royalites on the book will be given to that organisation’s office in Ballindine. I’m sure that many copies will have been sold in the meantime. All old Clogher-heads watch out for “Farewell Philadelphia in the shops, or you can buy it online anywhere in the world from AuthorHouse, through Amazon or any of the other major bookshops of the world. If you Google ‘Nancy Carney’s “Farewell Philadelphia”’ you can’t go wrong.
I was a bit dubious about AuthorHouse when I first discovered the publishing house on the Internet, and even more so when I read suggestions that it was some kind of scam. After dealing with them for more than a year and a half I must say that I am very impressed about this relatively new way to have a book publiished. It means some personal investment, but if you believe in what you are doing you are just putting your monay where your mouth is. It amazes me now to find ads for my book in about forty different languages on the Internet, and I am sure the same will soon be true of Nancy Carneys. That flea-eye view of the world all those years ago was not wasted.
When I was all of eight years old and still awaiting my religious vocation, I have to admit that I admired Nancy Foy from a distance when we were both pupils in Clogher National school, a few miles east of Ballintubber. There was a popular song at the time: “The yellow rose of Texas,” that I felt could have been written for Nancy Foy, with her long blonde hair and beautiful face. I met her briefly at a funeral many years after we had moved on from Clogher, and must admit to great surprise and delight when I had a call from her earlier this year to say she had a book ready for publication. Having read an article I had written about a novel I had just published through AuthorHouse (Godfool) she was inquiring about details. Eight months later her book is on the shelves.
Tommie Heneghan is aother publshed author from Clogher school, and there may be many more. Our teacher, Joe Mitchell from Logaphuill did put a lot of emphasis on writing and composition. Speaking about imagination recently to pupils in Carna’s Scoil Mhic Dara, I was telling them about the title of an essay Mr Mitchell asked us to write when the second Soviet sputnik was put into orbit, carrying a little dog called Loika. The title of the essay was: “I am a flea on the back of the dog which was sent into space.” The idea of seeing things through different eyes, the eye of the flea in this case, certainly inspired me, and is probably the reason I continue to write.
“Farewell Philadelphia” wil be officially launched on 11th November 2011 in the Linenhall Arts Centre, Castlebar by John Grant of Western Alzheimers Association, and donations from royalites on the book will be given to that organisation’s office in Ballindine. I’m sure that many copies will have been sold in the meantime. All old Clogher-heads watch out for “Farewell Philadelphia in the shops, or you can buy it online anywhere in the world from AuthorHouse, through Amazon or any of the other major bookshops of the world. If you Google ‘Nancy Carney’s “Farewell Philadelphia”’ you can’t go wrong.
I was a bit dubious about AuthorHouse when I first discovered the publishing house on the Internet, and even more so when I read suggestions that it was some kind of scam. After dealing with them for more than a year and a half I must say that I am very impressed about this relatively new way to have a book publiished. It means some personal investment, but if you believe in what you are doing you are just putting your monay where your mouth is. It amazes me now to find ads for my book in about forty different languages on the Internet, and I am sure the same will soon be true of Nancy Carneys. That flea-eye view of the world all those years ago was not wasted.
Week ending 23rd August 2011
I chickened out on the annual pilgrimage to Máméan in the Maamturk mountains recently. I had fully intended to go but tiredness after seven Masses that weekend caught up with me by the time I finished about one o’clock on Sunday. The old legs were feeling their age after being on my feet so often in the previous twentyfour hours. I felt that if I was to take part I would be good for nothing the following week after the pilgrimage. I knew that there was a funeral due in from England one of the days, and in this job we never know what the next day will bring so it is important to be prepared for any eventuality..
Needless to say my selfpity dwindled somewhat when I checked out the pilgrimage the following day on Tuam Diocesan website. The recently retired Parish Priest of Rosmuc, Fr. Paddy Consindine who is ten years older than me was there, while Father Micheál Mac Gréil SJ who revived the pilgrimage about thirty years ago is about five years older again. My only consolation was that, being retired, they probably had no other weekend Masses. The other priest concelebrating, Archbishop’s Secretary, Fr. Fintan Monahan is only a gasúir by comparison, and of course those at the coalface consider a desk job as not really work at all.
I would like to have been there for a number of reasons. I enjoyed my visit there last year. I knew that I would probably run into a few pilgrims from my previous posting in Tourmakeady, who approach the pilgrimage site from the other side of the mountain. Some local youths from Carna parish were to provide music, and they had done so with great gusto last year. There is a beautiful atmosphere in the place, wonderful rugged scenery and views of mountain, lake and bog, which seems to be continually changing colour at this time of the year.
The stations of the cross take place in terrain as difficult or more so than Calvary itself. The plaintive sound of the sean-nós singing of ‘Caoineadh na dTrí Muire’ from Oireachtas winner, Joe John Mac an Iomaire between the stations tells Jesus’ final journey from the viewpoint of his mother Mary – ‘An é seo an maicín a d’iompar mé trí ráithe?’ (Is this the little baby boy I carried for three seasons?) ‘Ochón is óchón ó’ It is not a saccharine rendition of a feelgood hymn, but reality check religion at its strongest, the story of every life as well as that of Jesus.
The virtual pilgrimage the following day on the Diocesan website was much easier on the legs than the real thing. In many ways it is the opposite to the Big Brother phenomenon in which people are watched in everything they do. It is an opportunity for those who are interested to see what is going on in their church outside their own parish, the Dawn Mass in Cong for instance, youth activities, what is happening in Knock, Croagh Parick, Ballintubber, Máméan? We can ask: “Who is yer man with Archbishop Neary?” Pope Benedict actually. The site is to be found at:
www.tuamarchdiocese.org
Needless to say my selfpity dwindled somewhat when I checked out the pilgrimage the following day on Tuam Diocesan website. The recently retired Parish Priest of Rosmuc, Fr. Paddy Consindine who is ten years older than me was there, while Father Micheál Mac Gréil SJ who revived the pilgrimage about thirty years ago is about five years older again. My only consolation was that, being retired, they probably had no other weekend Masses. The other priest concelebrating, Archbishop’s Secretary, Fr. Fintan Monahan is only a gasúir by comparison, and of course those at the coalface consider a desk job as not really work at all.
I would like to have been there for a number of reasons. I enjoyed my visit there last year. I knew that I would probably run into a few pilgrims from my previous posting in Tourmakeady, who approach the pilgrimage site from the other side of the mountain. Some local youths from Carna parish were to provide music, and they had done so with great gusto last year. There is a beautiful atmosphere in the place, wonderful rugged scenery and views of mountain, lake and bog, which seems to be continually changing colour at this time of the year.
The stations of the cross take place in terrain as difficult or more so than Calvary itself. The plaintive sound of the sean-nós singing of ‘Caoineadh na dTrí Muire’ from Oireachtas winner, Joe John Mac an Iomaire between the stations tells Jesus’ final journey from the viewpoint of his mother Mary – ‘An é seo an maicín a d’iompar mé trí ráithe?’ (Is this the little baby boy I carried for three seasons?) ‘Ochón is óchón ó’ It is not a saccharine rendition of a feelgood hymn, but reality check religion at its strongest, the story of every life as well as that of Jesus.
The virtual pilgrimage the following day on the Diocesan website was much easier on the legs than the real thing. In many ways it is the opposite to the Big Brother phenomenon in which people are watched in everything they do. It is an opportunity for those who are interested to see what is going on in their church outside their own parish, the Dawn Mass in Cong for instance, youth activities, what is happening in Knock, Croagh Parick, Ballintubber, Máméan? We can ask: “Who is yer man with Archbishop Neary?” Pope Benedict actually. The site is to be found at:
www.tuamarchdiocese.org
Week ending 16th August 2011
Mayo people who live outside the county were as delighted as those within with their county footballer’s recent victory over All-Ireland champions Cork. Spirits were lifted from Carna to China, and good wishes came from even those whose blood runs maroon. There is something about Connaught counties which leads them to row in behind their provincial winner when their own County is out of the championship. This is not true in other parts of the country. I happenrd to be in a pub in North Cork in 1980 when Roscommon played Kerry in that years All-Ireland final. What amazed me was that none of the locals wanted their neighbour to win.
Because of other circumstances, a christening one Sunday, a funeral another, and Mass during a local regatta, I have not seen any of Mayo’s televised victories so far this year. This draws me to the conclusion that they tend to win when I am not watching. I will have to find somewhere to hide my head the day of the Kerry match. In the meantime I have been dining out on the success of my native County. Conamara men and women even older than myself have raised the matter during my recent First Friday calls. If they are not careful I might even start waving my red and green umbrella about the place. God knows there has been enough rain for it.
Commentators delighted in comparing Connaught football to the ‘junk’ status beloved of Standards and Poors and other economic downward trend setters.until Mayo’s unexpected win jolted them upright in their armchairs. Roscommon had given a good account of themselves against Tyrone the previous night, while their minors and their Galway colleagues advanced towards that All-Ireland. With the earlier success of the Galway under-21 team ‘junk’ was the term being applied to the commentators rather than to the men of the west. Most of those who were so quick to write off Connaught have not managed to eat their words just yet.
I have often drawn attention to the fact that Conamara people seem to identify with Mayo almost more than with Galway. Those who live west of the Corrib feel they have more in common with their neighbours to the north of them than with those who live in the big green limestone walled fields to the eastof Galway city. The fields of Athenry are lonely because they are so big and so different to those of Conamara. Many people from this part of the country have lived and worked with Mayo people in London, Birmingham, Boston and Chicago and got on very well with them.. It is not that they have any difficulty choosing which side they are on when maroon and white plays green and red, but once that little local conflict is settled, it is winner takes all.
If good wishes from their own County and all the neutrals were enough to push Mayo over the line, Kerry would be better off to stay at home, but of course it does not work that way. Battle has to be joined, fifteen against fifteen, and let the best team win. Kerry are nothing if not sporting and they will be as generous as Cork’s Conor Counihan was if Mayo beat them fairly and squarely. The best of luck to them.
Because of other circumstances, a christening one Sunday, a funeral another, and Mass during a local regatta, I have not seen any of Mayo’s televised victories so far this year. This draws me to the conclusion that they tend to win when I am not watching. I will have to find somewhere to hide my head the day of the Kerry match. In the meantime I have been dining out on the success of my native County. Conamara men and women even older than myself have raised the matter during my recent First Friday calls. If they are not careful I might even start waving my red and green umbrella about the place. God knows there has been enough rain for it.
Commentators delighted in comparing Connaught football to the ‘junk’ status beloved of Standards and Poors and other economic downward trend setters.until Mayo’s unexpected win jolted them upright in their armchairs. Roscommon had given a good account of themselves against Tyrone the previous night, while their minors and their Galway colleagues advanced towards that All-Ireland. With the earlier success of the Galway under-21 team ‘junk’ was the term being applied to the commentators rather than to the men of the west. Most of those who were so quick to write off Connaught have not managed to eat their words just yet.
I have often drawn attention to the fact that Conamara people seem to identify with Mayo almost more than with Galway. Those who live west of the Corrib feel they have more in common with their neighbours to the north of them than with those who live in the big green limestone walled fields to the eastof Galway city. The fields of Athenry are lonely because they are so big and so different to those of Conamara. Many people from this part of the country have lived and worked with Mayo people in London, Birmingham, Boston and Chicago and got on very well with them.. It is not that they have any difficulty choosing which side they are on when maroon and white plays green and red, but once that little local conflict is settled, it is winner takes all.
If good wishes from their own County and all the neutrals were enough to push Mayo over the line, Kerry would be better off to stay at home, but of course it does not work that way. Battle has to be joined, fifteen against fifteen, and let the best team win. Kerry are nothing if not sporting and they will be as generous as Cork’s Conor Counihan was if Mayo beat them fairly and squarely. The best of luck to them.
Week ending 9th August 2011
I take some justifiable (I feel) pride in the fact that I have not bought a vegetable for two months. It is not that I have not been eating enough of them. Admittedly I may not always have achieved the reccommended five a day, but I have made up for it with second or third helpings of the two three or four a day. Carrots have not tasted like this since the fifties, while big onions I can chew like apples remind me of another taste of old. I do wonder why people seem to be sitting further back in the church. Lettuce, scallions, spinach and beetroot make up most of the rest of my little plot, while I have high hopes for curly kale to last right into the winter.
All of this has come from an experimental nailing together of some old five foot by two discarded cupboard doors from the kitchen into a square raised vegetable bed. Almost every time I visited one of the many beaches around Carna last winter I brought home a couple of refuse sacks of seaweed. Layers of this were interspersed with grass cuttings from the garden as well as potato peelings, banana and orange skins, tea-bags, withered flowers and any other kind of waste suitable for compost. This in itself has saved a couple of hundred euro in bin charges, as heavt duty plastic bags can be bought when needed for the various kinds of separated rubbish.
It was around Saint Patrick’s Day that I put onion sets around the outside, with lines of the other seeds across the bed. It was earlier than many people would set vegetables in the open in this country, but I had memories of people setting potatoes and other crops in the Aran Islands before the end of February. While Carna is on the mainland it is also by the shore and I felt the early setting was worth the chance. It ended up with me being able to put my vegetables where my mouth is.
For the first time in many years I managed to beat the carrot fly, more by accident than anything else. I had often heard that it can not fly above a certain level and I tried in the past to beat it by strips of plastic which were inevitibly destroyed by the wind. The raised bed, with the carrots two feet above ground level must have been the answer, though the onions growing around the edge may have helped too. The lack of srones in the seaweed/compost mixture also meant that the carrots could grow down without interference, but even with that they would not reach the old European Community standards of straightness or length.. The taste makes up for any difficulty involved in cleaning them.
Needless to say I hope to expand my vegetable patch during the winter. The old woodchip doors are beginning to disintegrate after the rain, but they have done their job and taught me a few valuable lessons. Some more serviceable boards are due to take their place, and there will be even more seaweed needed next time. It was the only fertiliser used. Speaking of fertiliser, I am reminded of the story of a man who used to bring organic rhubarb to an aunt of mine long gone to her reward. She eventually asked him how did he manage to produce such excellent produce year after year. His reply put her off the stuff for life: “The potty every morning.”
All of this has come from an experimental nailing together of some old five foot by two discarded cupboard doors from the kitchen into a square raised vegetable bed. Almost every time I visited one of the many beaches around Carna last winter I brought home a couple of refuse sacks of seaweed. Layers of this were interspersed with grass cuttings from the garden as well as potato peelings, banana and orange skins, tea-bags, withered flowers and any other kind of waste suitable for compost. This in itself has saved a couple of hundred euro in bin charges, as heavt duty plastic bags can be bought when needed for the various kinds of separated rubbish.
It was around Saint Patrick’s Day that I put onion sets around the outside, with lines of the other seeds across the bed. It was earlier than many people would set vegetables in the open in this country, but I had memories of people setting potatoes and other crops in the Aran Islands before the end of February. While Carna is on the mainland it is also by the shore and I felt the early setting was worth the chance. It ended up with me being able to put my vegetables where my mouth is.
For the first time in many years I managed to beat the carrot fly, more by accident than anything else. I had often heard that it can not fly above a certain level and I tried in the past to beat it by strips of plastic which were inevitibly destroyed by the wind. The raised bed, with the carrots two feet above ground level must have been the answer, though the onions growing around the edge may have helped too. The lack of srones in the seaweed/compost mixture also meant that the carrots could grow down without interference, but even with that they would not reach the old European Community standards of straightness or length.. The taste makes up for any difficulty involved in cleaning them.
Needless to say I hope to expand my vegetable patch during the winter. The old woodchip doors are beginning to disintegrate after the rain, but they have done their job and taught me a few valuable lessons. Some more serviceable boards are due to take their place, and there will be even more seaweed needed next time. It was the only fertiliser used. Speaking of fertiliser, I am reminded of the story of a man who used to bring organic rhubarb to an aunt of mine long gone to her reward. She eventually asked him how did he manage to produce such excellent produce year after year. His reply put her off the stuff for life: “The potty every morning.”
Week ending 2nd August 2011
The much maligned Roman Catholic church will have in recent weeks contributed more than the Irish State for famine relief in Somalia. This is done through its Third World Development Agency, Trócaire. The contributions in either case were not from the State or the church in the sense that State funding is taxpayer’s money while the Trócaire funding comes from the generous contributions made by church congregations to help alleviate starvation and famine in the Horn of Africa. Still it was mainly the nationwide church network which helped organise and collect the amount of money involved in the case of Trócaire. This needs to be noted in the interests of balance at a time of an understandable anti-church media frenzy in the wake of the report on clerical child abuse in the Catholic diocese of Cloyne
The much maligned Roman Catholic church through the Saint Vincent De Paul Society has at the same time helped keep the wolf from many doors and food on many tables affected by cutbacks in jobs and social welfare benefits. In this case too the money and the contributions of food, clothes, etc, came from what is known in church circles ‘the people of God’ the parishioners whose faith inspires them to share what they have, even if most of them have not very much themselves. This too needs to be noted in the interests of fairness and balance at this difficult time for many people in all walks of life.
The much maligned Roman Catholic church has in effect a better child protection system in place than many other societies and sporting groups in Ireland. This can be seen in action in most church sacristies in which care is taken to make sure that Mass servers are never in a one-to-one situation with a priest or other adult. Priests, parish workers and parents are in favour of this and co-operate in this to the extent that signing in, being overseen or monitored are taken as a necessary part of life. The main problem in Cloyne diocese was that this system was not in place, or certainly was not in place to the extent that it should have been. The more than 90% compliance with the rules and regulations throughout the country should however be noted in the interests of fairness and justice.
The Dáil speech of Taoiseach Enda Kenny in response to the Cloyne report has been deservedly praised, not least by clergy and committed Catholics. It put into words what many were feeling throughout the country, exasperated by Vatican macinations, and wondering what was the problem with high-ranking Cardinals and officials who seemed to see the suffering of children as very low on their list of priorities. Leaders and spokespersons for other political parties were fortright too in their comments. The ironic thing is that in this so-called Church-State debate, the State has more Roman Catholics, including priests and many bishops who were personally appalled by the findings of the Cloyne report, on its side than church officialdom has.
The much maligned Roman Catholic church through the Saint Vincent De Paul Society has at the same time helped keep the wolf from many doors and food on many tables affected by cutbacks in jobs and social welfare benefits. In this case too the money and the contributions of food, clothes, etc, came from what is known in church circles ‘the people of God’ the parishioners whose faith inspires them to share what they have, even if most of them have not very much themselves. This too needs to be noted in the interests of fairness and balance at this difficult time for many people in all walks of life.
The much maligned Roman Catholic church has in effect a better child protection system in place than many other societies and sporting groups in Ireland. This can be seen in action in most church sacristies in which care is taken to make sure that Mass servers are never in a one-to-one situation with a priest or other adult. Priests, parish workers and parents are in favour of this and co-operate in this to the extent that signing in, being overseen or monitored are taken as a necessary part of life. The main problem in Cloyne diocese was that this system was not in place, or certainly was not in place to the extent that it should have been. The more than 90% compliance with the rules and regulations throughout the country should however be noted in the interests of fairness and justice.
The Dáil speech of Taoiseach Enda Kenny in response to the Cloyne report has been deservedly praised, not least by clergy and committed Catholics. It put into words what many were feeling throughout the country, exasperated by Vatican macinations, and wondering what was the problem with high-ranking Cardinals and officials who seemed to see the suffering of children as very low on their list of priorities. Leaders and spokespersons for other political parties were fortright too in their comments. The ironic thing is that in this so-called Church-State debate, the State has more Roman Catholics, including priests and many bishops who were personally appalled by the findings of the Cloyne report, on its side than church officialdom has.
