Today we had a walking tour of Dungarvan with an old friend
who is a local historian and a man who everyone in town knows.
He was very active in the first years when
Mercyhurst was coming to Ireland, including the first year, 2010, that I was a
part of.
He is beginning to be
forgetful, and he moves a bit more slowly, so we didn’t cover as much physical ground
as we have in the past, but we covered a good amount of historical and cultural
ground.
He continues to delight everyone
with his gentle demeanor, his good humor, and of course his Irish sensibility.
At one point he mentioned Oliver Cromwell coming
through town on his march of destruction, and he made as if he needed to
spit.
This pleased me, but I’m not sure
that everyone understood the implications of the gesture.
I remembered the 1
st time I was in
Ireland, many years ago, and a man told me that when some Irish say Cromwell,
they may need to spit.
They must get the
bad taste out of their mouths, he said. The walking tour of life continues to repeat itself, but each new time is a blessing. We hear the story again in different ways and in different places. It is the same and anew.
The tour made us a bit late for starting my class today, but
the students were happy to stay a bit later to finish the poetry we are working
on. It is cold and windy today, so they
were not itching to get outside. It gave
us some time to look at some extra Yeats poetry (beyond the required reading).
This included a short, but famous piece:
Last night at the “Upstairs Reading/Music Group” at Downey’s
we heard an old Irish tale performed in the character of a Shanachie. We also heard an acapella rendition of “Down
by the Sally Gardens.” Everything comes
full cycle in Ireland for those with eyes that see and ears that hear.
No comments:
Post a Comment