Studs Terkel....."Curiosity didn't kill this Cat!"

So farewell then Studs....

When I first came to this country, I was in Borders & there in the discounted books, I discovered a gem...."Will the circle be unbroken...".

In summary, it was a reflective work. Studs doing what he did so best & so effortlessly- putting ordinary Americans at ease & acquiring their lifetime of insight on the topic in hand...this particular topic was on life, death & faith...as we get older we tend to focus on our destiny & ultimate journey.

It was a comment on American Society of that snapshot in time then that such a book be discarded & ignored so easily , to be put in the “marked down” section so soon after publication.

The humanity of Terkel's prose & his ability to let the true America speak....softly, quietly in these pages....away from all the chattering classes & masses, the talk-radio clan - the diatribes, the wingnuts of either side - made me realize and thankful for this country that I am honored to be a resident.

As I began to voraciously read this & his other "tomes"...the Pulitzer prize winner "The Good War", "Hope dies last", "American Dreams", "Working" , "Hard Times"...among others, I found one, "Coming of Age" to be his unbidden masterwork...it was reflections on the 20th century by those who had lived it...It's still a work that I read from time to time...simply for grounding myself & realizing how fortunate we are for the previous generations' toil, effort and sacrifice before us.

We were out (the better half & I) last night - It was our anniversary. On the radio, it was announced that Studs had passed to that "big rally in the sky". As we got out of the car, I said to my wife...how ironic that he should go just before the election on Tuesday to see a son of an immigrant, a community activist from his own town of Chicago be on the ballot of President of the United States. As I said this, I felt a chill , not a chill of cold or some eerie Halloween phenomenon but a shiver no a tremor of emotion on the whole import of the moment of his passing in such a time in our history.

The fact that the candidate is of African heritage would be a celebration of all that Studs believed & espoused about this wonderful, wonderful country. Studs was a light to me & countless others in some dark times...now that he is gone, it's time to pick up his torch & lead on. Studs Terkel was a true American superhero.

Leading is not some ego filled pastime but simply to do good in your life & the lives of others. It's time for our generation to do the same as previous ones and work for our kids & grandkids. Ensure that they have worthwhile lives too!

To those of you reading this, read Stud's work, read it & be filled with hope..the hope that good always wins out in the end.

http://dlv1.matrix.msu.edu:8080/ramgen/terkel/a0/a1/terkel-a0a1i9-b.rm
This is a clip from interviews he did on a train ride to Washington DC for a civil rights march. 54 weeks before I came into the world...a fitting finale before next Tuesday.

IKEA comes to town....(Click here for some fun!).

Well it came, It saw, It bloody well conquered....

Well worth the hype, IKEA is now located in Westchester, just North of Cinci & about 40 miles from home so off we popped in after a safari in Jungle Jims (junglejims.com)

WE came out with thousands of ideas for our hovel plus a few sticks of furniture...her indoors was very pleased with a kitchen cart I espied as we were leaving, The young fella got a black-board & a train set plus a lot of other "odds n sods" for the home...the rugs are sensational...we bought one for the living room...the family room will have to wait for now!

Click the title above for some more fun from a disciple of the new store.

Genus Muppetus

Muppets, a term Jim Henson gave us back in the late sixties or was it even earlier that that?

Anyway the word has now seeped into our consciousness particularly those of us from The Western European Isles.

If you're a "muppet", it generally means you're a "saddo", an "anorak", basically a pain in the arse.

These days I seem to meet more & more of them maybe it's me getting older and crankier but there's only so much blather one can put up with.

We have muppets that follow Chelsea for instance that swallow every crap piece of reporting or rumour mongering that the English media dream up - these muppets are known as "new fans" who have jumped on the bandwagon, particularly so in the last two years. They are not to be confused with the muppet known as a Manchester United Fan who are a different breed altogether although they do share some genes in fickleness and ignorance.

I could go on about the muppets we all encounter at our workplaces who revel in muck-raking and making mischief but I won't - the trick is not to listen and if everybody ignores the ignorant, they will melt away.

Then there are those maniac muppets we meet on the highway, the ones that absolutely, positively must get to the traffic lights at 90 miles an hour, almost driving you, your family and a host of other cars into the ditch, in their rush to oblivion and then slouch down in their seat as you pull up beside them, maintaining eye contact at a fixed point in the windscreen before them. The light goes green and they're off like Michael Schumacher in a F1 Ferrari - 2 mins later you pass them pulled over by those great folk of the Ohio State Patrol (closest thing to driving nirvana when you see that!).

There are many more species of muppet out there, like the surly "convenience/movie store clerk-muppet" or the "Stadium attendant muppet" that regards a stick of celery as an offensive weapon (Chelsea fans at Chicago know all about that one). There is a universe of muppets out there who could all do with a good dose of "exlax" laden chocolate to begin with.

I could go on but I think by now you understand the term "muppets" as we lovingly call these morons across the pond. Genus Muppetus should be the scientific term to enter the lexicon.

At least Kermit had an excuse for being a muppet, he had a hand up his arse!

Finnish Cowboys & the Hook

The search has been on for the movie "Leningrad Cowboys go America", a simply brilliant movie from Finland. it had it all, Rockabilly, pointy shoes and quiffs to die for. The music incidentally is brilliant! I have located a dvd across the pond and it soon should be winging it's way over here fairly soon. Their concert with the Red Army Choir in St.Petersburg will also be joining the Library. Have a looksee here at "Kalinka" from that concert here; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJIeBsvxh4k

The lads decide to tour America but one of the group dies on the way there so they tour America with the stiff in his coffin tied to the top of the car; I've located a clip here from the movie here; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcovyF8j50g . The Cowboys hit Nashville. As they cross the states they try a variety of musical styles from Steppenwolf to Mariachi..it is just a great little movie and deserves a proper re-release and a new generation of fans discovering it.

The movie was so big in Wexford's Hook peninsula that even the trees got in on the act. Actually I just had to include this picture in this blog. I took it in '98 one winter's day on the Hook Drive just up the road from Templetown. "The wind can get hairy down here during the winter", my cousin Billy Walsh told me when I was visiting him at the Hook lighthouse. Looking at the tree above, you knew he was telling the truth.

Billy was one of the keepers at the Hook till the Commissioner of Irish Lights automated all the stations. Billy is a great fellah who gave me many opportunities to explore the tower and marvel at it's engineering. Nowadays I understand it is open to the public. If you're in the vicinity, pay it a visit.

Spotted in Cincinatti....

Sums up the year for the Bengals quite adequately !

Saving Private Ryan

Believe it or not but you have probably have seen this beach before. More or less as you see it pictured here. This is Ballyvaldon Beach just north of Curracloe, County Wexford. In 1997 A movie was made here and not just any old movie either.

"Saving Private Ryan" 's first half hour of never to be forgotten footage of the D-Day landings was shot here.

I think we all took for granted the D-Day landings and what those Liberators had to endure that day.

But seeing Spielberg's vision of the true horror that mankind has to endure in a war setting makes one appreciate the sacrifices that those men made that day & ever since.

There are so many stories about the shooting of the movie. It lasted about 6 weeks while on location in Wexford plus some other scenes were filmed in the countryside. I understand the actors got along famously with the extras who were members of the Irish Army reserve - last seen in "Braveheart".

Two friends of mine Stephen Eustace & Tom Mooney wrote a wonderful tome called "Battleground" depicting the Shooting of the movie while on Wexford's shores, I am sure editions of it are probably still available if one goes looking.

Happy New Year.......

To all who have ventured in here this past year & beyond, I wish you a happy new year and hope to see you again. My family and I have had a blessed year in 2006, I hope the year was as good to you as it was to us.

Many thanks for your emails offline here, they are greatly appreciated & valued and many thanks for your encouragement.

(Pictured above right) Baginbun, County Wexford.

Yesterday I began the process of transferring some of my older digital picture libraries (from the old homeland) just like the one above, onto the drive here so stayed tuned for that as I will be publishing some stories & observations soon on them .

Wherever you're reading this, God Bless all there from Ohio!

John Barry

Commodore John Barry

As long as I can remember, John Barry has been a fixture in my head. I suppose like any Wexford person (townie anyway), there are landmarks that we carry about in our minds like some spare change in an old suit pocket - in my case it was Barry. I am sure there is some freudian import in this but I can't be bothered to analyse myself at this moment in time!

I remember as a very small boy, a toddler even, being brought down to the quay and to look up at him, a towering figure, solid, grim, foreboding yet strangely comforting. Staring, out across the sea to the wild Irish Sea which became the Atlantic around the corner.

Barry was a legend and is only being recognized now for what he was – the father of the American Navy. He was known locally as "The Pirate Barry" , my source was a venearable old sea dog, Ibar Murphy who rejoiced in Barry's Rosslare connections.

I remember the "Barry Days", the visiting US Navy, the pomp & ceremony of the day as both navies of Ireland & the US paid homage to their spiritual father (formerly) and actual father (latterly).

Indeed the United States owes a lot to the South East Corner of Ireland, her shores sending off rafts(pun intended) of men to form and man her navy , particularly the Barony of Forth & Bargy – my own ancestral home through my paternal grandmother.

As it often is, History can be very piquant. This corner of old Erin having more in common with the South West of England than the rest of Ireland. Our cultures & traditions being very much in sync with those of Cornwall, Somerset & Devon. Indeed these Counties are all that remain of Celtic Britain, the Britons being the dominant Celtic tribe of the land, Wales being their last refuge.

Yet it was this Southeastern corner that was the most rebellious, insurgent piece of soil, the English had ever encountered. Our mixture of Gaelic, Viking, Flemish & Norman blood made us a belligerent bunch when facing tyranny or hostility.

I’ll write more of my home’s history. As I type here in exile, I reflect very much that it is the soil that forms us and makes us what we are which makes me very comfortable in my skin these days. Call it tribal, whatever but I guess when it comes to adopting a mark, I wear my tattoos on the inside with pride.

John Barry Kelly is a descendant of John Barry. He is a Park Ranger at the Philadelphia Heritage Park, a favorite haunt of mine. He wrote the following piece on his great uncle here: http://www.ushistory.org/people/commodorebarry.htm . Do yourself a favor and read it.

With regard to “Philly”, it is fair to say that History literally seeps from the pores in her cobbled streets. If you have the means, the time – Visit this City. America has given so much to the World and indeed received a lot too. This city will help you understand that fact and why we all need each other, especially in these darkened days.

Fogra: Today is "National Speak like a Pirate day!", according to Captain Pugwash at work. Shiver me timbers ya curs, Hoist sail for the coast of Malabar or I'll keelhaul every one of ye before the day is through!

Happy Birthday..pt 1

It’s easy to be despondent these days. Where is the justice? We all know what happened on this day 5 years ago. Two wars and hundreds of thousands of casualties later, we are daily reminded “that freedom isn’t free”,

I cannot help but think of the line

“but who pays the ferryman?”

What really happened on that day and what has happened to us since?

The pictures here are my own, taken last August when we were in NY for a fast & furious day of “sight/site-seeing”. The ambience of the City had changed since I last visited 5 years previously. I’d describe it as a harsh environment but when you have a 16 acre crater in place of a once vibrant, creative hub…I would say any city would feel scarred, numb, violated.

Part of her soul was lost that day! Will it ever heal?

Chicago in August!

A month later but some pictures of our trip to Chicago.

Even more than ever, we’re committed Chicago fans. I guess it is something to do with our familial links with the City. A part of Chicago dies at midnight tonight with the acquisition of Marshall Fields by Macys.

The Sledd Aquarium, The Field Museum, the Adler Planetarium, The Science & Industry Museum plus the Hancock Tower all part of the great deal offered by www.citypass.com.

From The Hancock, the view is simply stunning!

The little fellah loved it so much we returned the next day for a night-time viewing. Where else can you wander around a major world city at 12 midnight without fear. Simply a very exciting place to be.


The game was an anti-climax, though it was great to meet the lads and have a few chats with some old & indeed new friends. Hallo Mokes! A fellow blue that made the bus trip to Chicago from D.C.. That is what devotion is all about!

Last year at training in New Jersey, there were about 20 or so Chelsea Diehards…this year at the Chicago session, there was 7,000. Proof that the World has sat up & taken notice of us. Proof that the youngster is taking notice of us is his repeating of a phrase that 500 or so Chelsea fans exclaimed after Didier Drogba’s goal was dis-allowed, beginning with F ending in K’s and add a “Sake” to that and you get my drift!

Bridgeview is a lovely stadium; hopefully it will resurrect that area of Chicago and build Chicago Fire a real fan-base. The organization there are a wonderful bunch of people and very helpful to all. Some of the Security got over zealous with the Celery throwing, (a Chelsea tradition from the early 80’s)…the song is the funny part and no I am not posting the lyrics here.

911

911, A date that forever will be associated with shock, terror, fear, outrage...these words seem so cliched these days but not then. America changed that day, the World changed!

911 is a big day in my home, we have two birthdays on that day.

A friend of mine, Larry Kirwan lives less than a mile from the site where once stood the Twin Towers...This is how he recalls it.... (by permission of the Author).


It will be five years on Monday since the Twin Towers were attacked. What changes have overcome us! It's not that we haven't recovered from the shock. Still, there is a rip in the fabric of our society that has yet to be repaired. I've often wondered why. All I can figure is that when those three thousand people departed the city, they took with them a measure of our hopes and dreams. They were vibrant souls, full of confidence in themselves and their country. It's nauseating and beyond disgraceful how their memory continues to be twisted for cheap political gain. They deserve better as do the many thousands with respiratory ailments who rushed to their rescue. Despite all the heartbreak and loss, the event is slowly receding into myth. I wrote a newsletter soon after describing what it was like in the city on the day. Unfortunately, I've mislaid it. This is an extract from Green Suede Shoes that I based on the original newsletter. Perhaps, in some small way, it will help cut through the ratings-driven hoopla of television coverage and the shilling of cheap, flag waving politicians from both major parties, and for a few moments resurrect the essence of these sorely missed people.

"I can't overestimate what a beautiful day it was. Clear blue and with just the barest hint of fall in the air. January is New Year for much of the world, but the first two weeks after Labor Day signal the beginning for New York. People come back from the shore and the mountains full of new resolutions and, for whatever reason, there was even more hope in the air than usual. Maybe there was even time for the Mets to turn it around.

No one spoke. It was too much. We live just north of Canal Street and the view of the Trades had always been spectacular. I don't know why it sprang to mind, but my first sight of them was towards the end of the movie Carnal Knowledge, when Jack and Artie are having their last conversation. But that was just an instant flash. Suddenly, everyone was talking and shouting and you could hear the cries echoing from the surrounding rooftops. It was an accident of course. How could the bloody pilot have gone so off course and hit one of our lovely Towers? The utter stupidity of it all! Hadn't he ever seen the old pictures of the plane crash into the Empire State?


And then the second plane hit the Eastward Tower. We didn't see it and the sound was muted, for the plane came from the South and was blocked from our view. But we felt the impact; the Tower itself seemed to buckle from the shock. There were no flames from our angle, just another gaping, smoky hole and then a confetti of glass and paper exploded outwards and seemed to hang in the air around the two buildings. It finally dawned on us all, we were being attacked, but by whom? I ran downstairs for a pair of old binoculars and trained these on the Eastward building. Large black pieces of debris were sailing right through the glassy confetti. I instinctively knew that bodies were hurtling down too but, on no account, did I wish to see them. Luckily a neighbor asked for a look. Better him than me, I thought, as I handed them over.

He never got to use them for a cloud of brown smoke and dust erupted; the building shuddered, then wavered and collapsed to the ground in an almost orderly, but totally surreal, manner. It was hard to trust the eyes, but this was no mirage. The building had disintegrated downwards in a couple of awful seconds and a great cloud of smoke and dust arose, to my mind, almost like a shroud. People were now yelling and screaming from all the rooftops. A number of women around me cried hysterically, while the men cursed loudly. It was as if time stood still during those awful seconds while comprehension sought to reassert itself. The general consensus was that the tower had been blown up by bombs previously placed in the basement. The dread feeling, though generally unspoken, was that these unidentified bombers were invincible and could now do as they wished with the city.

I stayed on the roof for another couple of minutes trying to piece together conflicting thoughts and emotions, but everything seemed utterly changed, and I don't mean just the purely physical. The Westward building was still standing but it looked violated. I got the distinct, sickening feeling that the gaping hole in that tower was like an ugly smoking wound that would never be healed. Now a general panic swept across the rooftops and the screams merged in with the howl of many sirens heading south on Broadway. The loudest scream, though silent, was "what's coming next?"

I took back my binoculars and trained them on the standing tower; it seemed so close and we on the rooftops particularly vulnerable, being less than a mile away. I had no hope; it was just a matter of time until the second tower fell, and I didn't think for a moment that the orderly collapse of its sister would be repeated. No, this one would surely explode outwards and shower us with the glassy confetti, the dark beams and God knows what else. Many others felt the same way and there was an exodus off the rooftops. I ran downstairs, just in time to turn on the TV and watch the second Tower disintegrate in the same sickeningly neat manner.

It's very hard to put into words the feeling of vulnerability in the next hours as rumors swept the city: new planes were headed in for more attacks, the tunnels had been booby trapped, the "bombs" that had brought down the Trades contained biological and germ warfare devices, etc. And then soon after, two screaming air force jets banked over the city, causing widespread panic, before they were identified. Where the hell had they been, we screamed back skywards? But there was no reply, nor has there been a satisfactory one to this day.

I headed down to Canal Street and decided to walk towards the WTC area, knowing that it would soon be blocked off. People were streaming up Broadway, dazed and glassy-eyed, some formally dressed, some in casual attire, but most dusted over with a fine white powder. After five or six blocks, however, the smoke and dust became too dense and I was forced to halt. With my back against a wall, I watched emergency vehicles speed down Broadway, shoving the escapees up onto the sidewalk. All was chaos, but there was remarkably little panic. Just shock - silent for the most part – with no hysteria or tears, only a dazed bitter uncertainty. One man stood out. An African-American, his shirt had either been blown off or removed. He must have been about 6'4" and was covered from head to toe with that same fine white dust with which we would all soon be familiar. He was moving up Broadway with a purposeful stride. I looked in his eyes as he passed me. There was no shock or fear there, just a fierce, but calm, determination to get home, get out of that area, get back to some kind of sanity. I watched him until he faded off into the smoky distance of Broadway. He took a large measure of our past with him".


About the writer.....

Larry Kirwan is an extremely talented man...He is a prolific writer and playwright, He is also the founder of a (deadlydesh!) brilliant Musical Experiment called Black 47, I won't call them a rock band as that title is too worn these days... You can read, listen, amuse yourself at his website here;

www.black47.com

Marcus Fiesel

To say I am heartbroken is an understatement...I could not write on this till today..."Cold Fury", has anyone really experienced what that feels like, I did when I heard what had happened to Little Marcus.

The story is here, killed by his "loving" foster parents...

http://news.enquirer.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060829/NEWS01/608290340

Finger pointing, backstabbing, all the usual stuff that happens when the excrement hits the fan.

The cynical exploitation of the child's demise has already begun...I could comment on that but I won't, this isn't the time, the place or the proper forum. Other people far better qualified or positioned than I will no doubt in time point this out.

I must say this, I was never so proud of the work that the Investigators did on this case, they never gave up and hopefully their work will be recognized in due course.

The huge outpouring of grief makes me realize that I live amongst good decent people. People I am proud to call friends & neighbors.

This whole story tears me up. It makes me so thankful to GOD for my little boy, my family. It made me realize that I have roots that are deeper than I ever thought in this part of the World.

I will never ever forget you Marcus, I never knew you but you will live in my heart forever...I know that thousands more touched by your plight feel the same way!

God Bless you

MISSING!

I find myself being very sad these days. I have a little boy who I dote on and would move the earth for if I could.

Last week whilst meeting the team I coach for their first session, we got news that a little boy by the name of Marcus Fiesel was missing in a neighbouring park...only a few months older than my fella..this little boy apparently wandered off from his foster mother who had passed out.

The child has never been recovered despite thousands of good decent people searching for him again & again for three days solid. The case is very distressing for me as being a recent parent - the disappearance of this little tot hits home even harder. The other thing is that this child had not much of a life and for this to happen is saddening beyond words. As you can see from the pictures and the article below, he is a beautiful little boy and the whole situation is heartbreaking.

Whoever reads this, please say a prayer for this child's safe recovery!
pics courtesy of wcpo.com

story here...
http://news.enquirer.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/AB/20060823/NEWS01/608230359/

Chicago again!

The Windy City

“To the City of Chicago
As the evening shadows fall
There are people dreaming
Of the hills of Donegal”

Or so the song goes…well I am not dreaming of the hills of Donegal though I was in the south of that county – flat as a bloody pancake incidentally, when we (Wexford) played them in the 3rd division of the national league (1981)....how times have changed for the better for both Counties in the Football department.

Anyway, we were off to that City once more to visit my wife’s maternal home although her own ancestral home is Wexford. Lots of things are planned, visits to old haunts and some new ones too. My wife is anxious for us to try Italian grinders…sandwiches, dripping in olive oil, sausage, peppers, various cheeses all topped by a rich tomato sauce sprinkled with herbs.

Chelsea by some strange co-incidence visit the town at that time and by an even stranger co-incidence we will be seeing them too. I’ll enjoy the time away, meeting some old friends from England & Ireland…a chance to relax amidst my own, and a refreshing change from the daily grind...no pun intended.

Ethnocentricities...part 1

Ethnocentricities….part 1.

I am accused by some arsigans (over here) of being ethnocentric, if it means being proud of one’s heritage, tradition, homeland, whatever…Yes, I am ethnocentric! - Unrepentant & unbowed. Indeed in the words of Brendan Behan, "F**k the begrudgers! ".

I am proud of where I come from, the people I grew up amongst and the ancestry we all revere. Part of the Celtic psyche is a deep affection for the land we spring from and the families we adhere to.

So without further ado, I’ll tell you of a common link between my home today (Cincinnati) and my home of yesteryear (Wexford), I discovered the other day whilst out with the family “taking the air’ at Sawyer Point in Cincinnati. Some interesting things happened that day, some interesting sights - but that’s for another day’s telling.

Some years ago, I marketed and sold a property called St.John’s Manor, a late Georgian residence situated a couple of miles down the river Slaney from Enniscorthy in County Wexford.

St. John's Manor

Selling the property was a formulative experience in my real estate career but a highly enjoyable one at the same time. The amount of times the property was viewed was in the hundreds incurring thousands of miles in driving and thousands of hours in viewing. The people I encountered were varied to say the least. I owe a huge debt of thanks to Pat & Brenda Murphy for giving me that commission.

As I was/am a local history buff, I researched my new charge and dug up an impressive history on the property. Founded as an Augustinian priory in 1232, the property remained in the hands of the church till the time of Henry the eight, who annexed the lands & property and leased the lands out eventually the lands being granted by Cromwell in 1652 to a minion for services rendered.

The property changed hands a number of times before a man who enjoyed/endured the name “Onesiphorous Gamble” inherited the demesne around 1780. farming was not his "gig" & the Gambles decided to emigrate to the newly founded United States. The family eventually located themselves in Cincinnati whereupon one of it’s members – James, met a fellow by the name of William Procter lately arrived from England and founded a soap making enterprise. Almost two hundred years later and their Company is one of the largest conglomerates in the world.

Regarding St. John’s, the current residence was built in 1810 by Dr. Charles Hill who had purchased the property from the Gamble family. The poet Thomas Kinsella had (if I recall) hadl links with the Manor and one of his most popular poems “Another September” was inspired by his visits there.

Dreams fled away, this country bedroom, raw

With the touch of dawn, wrapped in a minor peace,

Hears through an open window the garden draw

Long pitch black breaths , lay bear its apple trees,

Ripe pear trees, brambles, windfall-sweethened soil,

Exhale rough sweetness against the starry slates.

Nearer the river sleeps St.Johns, all toil

Locked fast inside a dream with iron gates.

Leaving cert poetry remembered !...I loved that phrase, "locked fast inside a dream with iron gates" but enough of the reverie. Back to Cinci & the ethnocentric Irishman...

There is a wealth of stories about the Irish in Cincinnati which I'll research and tell here eventually. We've made our mark in Medicine, Education, the Arts not to mention the Business World and I take great pride in celebrating their achievements - Ethnocentricity my arse!

Perfect day

Today was wonderful!

The family spent a lovely day in Dayton, paid a visit to Wright Patterson AFB.


We signed up for the Presidential Tour and made a call to "SAM 26000". The VC 137c, (Boeing 707) - JFK's Air Force 1 which bore him to Dallas on that fateful day and bore his remains back to Washington. It was eerie to stand in the area where Johnson took the oath of office, Jackie stunned, gazing on.....a tragic day not just for America but the World!

The Craft of FDR, Truman, Eisenhower not to mention that above 707 which served JFK, Johnson, Nixon, Ford & Carter are all here. Fascinating viewing.

The little fellah loves aircraft and he fell in love with the XB-70 “Valkyrie”. It is truly a beautiful craft, quite breathtaking. Only two were built, one crashed in 1968, the other remains and lives in a hangar on the base proper.

Other craft to live here include the Douglas x-3, "the stiletto" dating from the early 50's, incredible elan in it's design.
The Hawker Siddeley Harrier, the first V-STOL aircraft much loved by aircraft buffs the world over. The F-16 by General Dynamics. The X-15 by North American, without which the space program may well have faltered as it's research in test flights was of incalculable value to the Mercury, Gemini & Apollo projects. Stealth technology like "Tacit Blue" by Northrop, and much more. Altogether it was an amazing tour, 45 minutes though is all you have!

We enjoyed the IMAX movie, the youngest member of the family totally entranced by the Helicopters featured doing their turns, spins and death defying stunts.

When we arrived home, I was greeted by the news that I am now eligible to apply for Citizenship of this wonderful land. It has been a strange journey to this point with many twists and turns. For all those I have encountered upon it, thank you for your compassion and understanding. May you be truly blessed in all your endeavours. To all my wonderful friends thank you for your support throughout.

Thanks to the Lord Jesus for his wonderful gift on this Passover weekend, the Passover Lamb comes through for us all with a little faith, even if it is a mere mustard seed - that is all he requires.

Sorry if I am appearing mystical here but God alone knows what am I talking about. It is a huge weight of my shoulders.

"Such a perfect day", Lou Reed could not say it any better!

Glossary of my language

One of my hobbies is etymology, if you don’t know what it means get a dictionary!
But seriously though, my American pals & colleagues always get confused and sometimes worried when I use the following terms, in conversation or work situations.

So in an effort at Détente, International Co-Operation, World Peace and simply to clarify the meanings for the American (& indeed British) reader, I have embarked on writing a small list which I may add to from time to time.

Hopefully, this list will explain words as they are to me and ought to be to them! (In my mindJ!).

Arse: Ass as in posterior.
(e.g.) “He is a right pain in the arse!” Also can be used as a term of defiance as in “I will in me arse!”

Bog: A term of disdain normally used by townies and Dubliners to the country side.
“Get back to the Bog, ya culchie!”. It can also refer to the bathroom, as in “I’m going to the bog!”

Bollocks, Bollix: means literally testes/testicles but usually as a term of enragement. However it can be used as a term of endearment depending on the tone it is said in.
“You Lousy bollocks!’ “He’s only a bollox!” “A pain in the bollocks!”

Bum: Arse
“He is a pain in the Bum!”

Crack, Craic: Fun!
(e.g.) “We had great crack in Dublin!” “What’s the crack?” meaning “What are we going to do?’

Culchie: a term usually used by Dubliners but invariably other East Coast Townies to country folk. Apparently, the term has its roots from Kiltymagh, Co. Mayo (pronounced Culchiemack) although a lot of people believe it was a reference to agriculture including the writer of this piece.

Cute: It can have the normal meaning of “awwww” or it can mean sly or cunning.
(e.g.) “Mind him! He’s a cute bastard!”

Doss: To not work. (e.g.) “I had a right doss at school today!”

Dosser: A lazy person (e.g.) “He’s a real dosser!”

Fag: a cigarette
(e.g.) “I am dying for a fag!” “I need a fag!” “I’d kill for a fag!”

Fairy: a member of the Tuatha De Danann. An ancient Irish citizen to be treated with respect and due deference when encountered on a dark night. We never refer to them as fairies normally though. The term usually referred to is “one of the other crowd!” If somebody is daydreaming, it has been heard that “He is away with the fairies!”

Feck: The Irish lite version of F*ck. Like its stronger “Anglo” cousin can mean a whole raft of meanings like
To Feck: to steal
“Feck that!” : “No way!”
“Feck off!” : “Leave me alone!”
“fecking, feckin’” Adjective of
“Fecker”: Pest or alternatively a term of endearment.
Can be used dazzlingly together like, “Feck off! Ye Feckin’ fecker!”.

Gay: happy, go lucky though it isn’t used much anymore. It also is a man’s name, shortened version of Gabriel as in Gabriel or Gay Byrne.

Gob: Mouth
(e.g.) “I’ll give you a smack in the gob!’

Gobshite: a bull shitter, a fool
(e.g.) “Never mind that Gobshite!”


Gurrier: a youth of low moral caliber. Brave when they have a few cans of cider and hunt in packs. Picking normally on an isolated or lone individual. They can be found in all social strata. Usually they grow up to be rugby players, tax collectors and lawyers.
(e.g). "They are a right, nasty bunch of Gurriers!'


Hoor: Whore nominally but as in all things Irish, it has a plethora of meanings like;
“Watch that one! He’s a cute hoor!”
“Ye hoor, yeh!” - Exclamation of surprise or disdain
“ye little hoor!” :- loving term from your mom!

Jacks: a term used by Dubliners in reference to the bathroom.
(e.g.) “I’m off to the jacks!”

Joint: side of roast beef. The traditional Irish and British Sunday dinner. Simply put an institution of both Islands.
(e.g.) “Granny really loved the Sunday Joint”. “The family had a joint on Sunday”.

Knacker: a term used for a tinker usually in a disparaging manner. It is usually referred though to a person of low social standing or class. A person of unsophisticated tastes.
(e.g.) “He’s only a knacker, don’t mind him”
“They’re a bunch of knackers!’ in reference say to a football/soccer team whose tactics are, shall we say, dubious or uncompromising at best.

From the root of Knacker, we get

Knackered: which means tired¹ but also can be used as beaten²?
(e.g.)¹ “I am Knackered, , I haven’t slept in days!’
(e.g.)² “We’re knackered now, they’ve scored again!”

Lad: A term for a boy normally but when “the ”is put before it, it has only one meaning in the Irish psyche meaning the male appendage or penis. Always referred to in the third person.
(e.g.) “How’s the lad?” a popular greeting among (usually) young Irish males in a light hearted enquiry as to one’s sex life. Amongst Older Irish males though, it is normally an enquiry about one’s self in the third person! A reflection on the libido I guess as one gets older

Mickey: Pet name for the penis as in “Me Mickey is itchy!” usually overheard from a pack of Gurriers on a Saturday night in a fast food outlet

Quare: Odd, not right.
(e.g.). “Something is quare here!” or “That’s quare!”

Quare fella: Usually a term for Satan or the devil.
(e.g.) “I think he’s in with the quare fella!”

Redneck: A term for a culchie or a countryperson. My Dublin born mammy told me it was a reference to culchies getting slapped on the back of their necks by their frustrated parents, saying “Get up to Dublin and get a job!”
(e.g.) “Go back to the bog, ya redneck!”

Smack: Slap, a blow
(e.g.) “I’ll give you a smack in the gob!” “I’ll smack the arse off you!”
(c) deadlydesh ravenspoint 2005

(image courtesy of Fr. Ted online @ http://www.fathertedonline.ukf.net)