valeriesbookofme

Even after living here for almost 10 months, the 1916 Easter Rising hadn't really touched me emotionally. I think in this age of terrorism, when there is so much violence associated with protest and nationalism, I had put the Rising into a small part of my brain. It failed, it (in my mind) gave rise to the horrors of The Troubles, I just didn't empathize with it. That changed when I walked through the Museum's exhibit on Freedom and Peace. The Museum has created it as a literal pathway. To quote from the Museum's webpage "Visitors to the museum can now take a ‘walk through time’ and choose a route which will ultimately lead to World War One or to the GPO. They can explore the shared theme of loss and its impact. This is physically achieved through both experiences ending in the dedicated reflective space of the museums ‘Peace Garden’." The GPO is the General Post Office in Dublin where the rebels made their stand against the English army between April 24-

I had been to Cavan County Museum about 10 years ago, during my first visit to Cavan. I should explain to those not familiar with Irish geography that Cavan is the county next door to Fermanagh but separated by the invisible border. Fermanagh is part of Northern Ireland, the United Kingdom. Cavan is part of Ireland. When the border was drawn up and Ireland received its independence, six counties in the Province of Ulster, mainly Protestant, wanted to remain with the U.K. And so Counties Antrim, Armagh, Down, Fermanagh, Londonderry (called Derry by the southern Irish) and Tyrone make up Northern Ireland. So my ancestors came from both sides of the border--Fermanagh to the north, Cavan to the south. When we are in Fermanagh we use pounds sterling and the road signs are in miles; when we are in Cavan, we use Euros and the road signs are in kilometers. The distance/speed issue was a problem when we were in Fermanagh as our rental car's speedometer was only set to kms. So I would s

Richard dropped me off at Enterprise Rent-A-Car early Monday morning and then drove off, brakes still making the dragging sound from time to time, to Carlow. It took a couple of hours for them to obtain an automatic car but Kathleen, Mike and I finally set off for Cavan at 10:30. We stopped for lunch at one of my favorite garden centers; the garden centers in Ireland often have great tea rooms and the Arboretum in Leighlinbridge is yummy for lunch.  We arrived at Riverside Farm, Enniskillen, Fermanagh, about 4:30. Molly Fawcett was there to greet us, looking a bit older and frailer (I last saw her six years ago) but as warm and welcoming as ever. And Vi was there too--82 years old, on Tamoxifen for cancer but still smoking. She is incorrigible. She had been feeling low because the day before had been the 41st anniversary of her daughter's untimely death in a motor accident while in the British Army. We took her out to dinner and she talked and talked about her life, funny stor

I wasn't sure whether the next day Kathleen and Mike would want to relax around Dunmore or do some sightseeing. It turned out that they were interested in seeing "a castle of some sort." Richard suggested that Johnstown would be a good one. Not too far, a nice tea room, lovely grounds. At first he was going to stay home but Kathleen and Mike assured him they would be fine in the back seat of the Fiat--brave souls that they are, especially Mike who is 6'3". So we all wedged ourselves in and off we went. Took the ferry across Passage East and tootled along the back roads to Johnstown. Kathleen was still terrified and finally decided to keep her eyes closed as much as she could. I certainly can empathize with how she felt although it really doesn't bother me anymore. (Good thing, as a driver who keeps her eyes closed wouldn't last long.) Richard and I had visited Johnstown Castle several months ago and liked it very much. I

I was so pleased when my cousin wrote a few months ago and said she and her husband were going to stop in Ireland on the way home from visiting their daughter in France. Kathleen is my mother's niece, daughter of her only sister. We were born nine months apart and we both have happy memories of our Irish grandmother, our great aunt and uncle, Christmas visits to Eaton's department store, summer visits to the Botanical Gardens and Belmont Park, sombre trips to funeral parlors as our mothers "paid their respects." We went to the same high school, Holy Names but were a year apart. But we knew the same teachers, the same nuns.  Kathleen and I probably age 5 Grandma K and her sister, Auntie Nellie 1956, Grandma sails for England and Ireland. Kathleen's mom is far right, my sister is far left, Auntie Nellie & her husband Uncle Tom, two mystery ladies and my dad. Me in the front, Kathleen must have been in school. Kathleen is not a big traveler. S