Fundraising letter for Hunger Strike Memorial

THE TIME HAS COME

Many times on this blog I have celebrated the lives and  sacrifices of Bobby Sands and the nine other men who lost their lives in a hunger strike in 1981. 

There is only one monument to the heroism of these men in the United States and it is in Hartford, CT.  We want to create one in Providence, RI to be sure that the deaths of these  heroic men are never forgotten.

Dear Friends of Irish Freedom,

The spring and summer of 1981 witnessed the slow and painful deaths of ten invincible Irish patriots. Led by Bobby Sands, these men began Hunger Strikes to demonstrate their refusal of the British government attempt to criminalizetheir armed revolt against hundreds of years of tyranny in Ireland. Displaying the support of the Irish people, while on Hunger Strike, Bobby Sands was elected as a Member of Parliament. More than 40 years have passed since those tragic events and the English government still has not implemented the terms of the Good Friday Agreement. The deaths of these men inspired protests all over the world. Sinn Fein began holding political office and has reached a current position of strength in Ireland.

 The 1916 Committee plans to memorialize the sacrifice of the Hunger Strikers and keep their names and brutal deaths in our historic memory by raising a monument to them at the site of the Irish FamineMemorial. A simple bronze plaque, mounted on granite stone, will proudly enshrine our gratitude. It will read:

In the spring and summer of 1981, ten brave Irishmen fasted to death to fight Britain’s attempt to

criminalize their Irish struggle. The deaths of these ten men, and the international response to it,

caused the British to change this policy and also created the conditions for the armed struggle to evolve

into participation in electoral politics, leading eventually to the Good Friday Agreement of 1998.

We Honor These Ten Men and Martyrs

“I may die but the Republic of 1916 will never die”

Bobby Sands

BOBBY SANDS MARTIN HURSON

FRANCIS HUGHES KEVIN LYNCH

RAYMOND MCCREESH KIERAN DOHERTY

PATSY O’HARA THOMAS MCELWEE

JOE MCDONNELL MICHAEL DEVINE

The cost of the proposed monument will be 15,000 dollars. We ask all our members, friends and Irish Americans who recognize the sacrifice paid by these ten men, to contribute to the cost of the monument.

Now let's make it personal. We are asking  you as individuals to think of the sacrifice that brought these ten men to  martyrdom and to ask that you make a small sacrifice to honor them.

We ask that you think about what amount you can give easily and then  think of what would push you  out of your comfort zone.. If  ten dollars is easy for you, why not double it even if that means that you forego some little treat  and feel the pinch?

LET'S GET REAL!!

Here are some examples--

Send the cost of the cigarettes that you smoke daily.

Send the cost of the liquor you drink daily.

Send the cost of the lottery tickets or online bets you make daily.

Or  maybe skip the daily coffee and doughnut at  Dunkin?

Making this small sacrifice for one day  will align you spiritually with the sacrifice these men made daily until they died.

YOU CAN DO IT!

Be willing to suffer just a little to honor these brave men who suffered so much for so many days.

All for Irish freedom,

Make checks  out to 

RI 1916 Committee

PO Box 28321

Providence RI 02908

Thank you in advance for your support.

The Rhode Island 1916 Committee

PS. If this appeal moved you to donate, please forward  it to Family and friends  in your circle.

Beats in the BUCKET

 How  did  the Beat  movement come to me in Pawtucket? 

Like so many of the good things that came to me there. it came to me through the good offices of  a member of the Boucher family.

Their son Raymond, my  friend Lucille's brother, had started  his college education at RISD while  Lucille and I were going to Saint Xavier's Academy, a great school in Providence.

The first year Raymond had an old Volkswagon Beetle that he had painted a brilliant yellow. He drove Lucille  and me into downtown Providence and  we walked up Broad St to the Academy. I gave him a couple of dollars a week for gas and for  a while it worked.

He also shared with us some of the new things that he was reading. He knew that I was interested in poetry and that I tried to write it. One day he handed me a  book with a one word title --HOWL.

"This is how poets write now--contempoary poetry" he said as he showed me the black and white volume.This was in 1956 and my freshman  year at high school.

I remember reading the long poem and being struck by its  daring form. I loved it. In fact in recent years I have written a  Pawtucket version that  won me a prize in the Galway Kinnell poetry contest.

Here is that poem

A HOWL IN PAWTUCKET-- Circa 1959

 

I am with you in Pawtucket

 

My greatest fear as I sneaked a smoke

with the black leather-jacketed boys

at the White Tower on Main Street Bridge

was that someone who knew my mother,

sitting on one of the buses lined up at the light,

leaning forward in her window-seat might

 

spy me standing there: cigarette dangling,

blue uniform skirt rolled thigh high

black turtleneck hiding Catholic school badge,

mouth smeared with white lipstick.

eyes outlined in kohl like a baby owl.

the Beatnik of Pawtucket: I had read “HOWL”

 

I am with you in Pawtucket.

 

Where are you now? The boys who dived

at Limerock Quarry, their skin porcelain

in the milky water; or the dusty boys--

come on back where you belong

of Sunset Stables who always copped a feel

at the dismount? Where is little Lucille?

 

 

Who would skate with me those cold starry

nights at the Blue Pond? Where is Roland--

with his red sweater, his white '51 Ford

with the fairy fringe, and his dazzling smile?

Or sweet Eleanor who would walk with me

through the dappled lane of Dunnell's shady lea?

 

I am with you in Pawtucket.

 

 

We reached  that pond at Prospect Heights

on those long hot days filled with polio scares

and paper dolls on my porch. And where are you?

That black-haired boy who met me in the Back lots

and showed me the broken-walled reservoir

where he looked for any signs of Indian lore.

 

Oh, that's right, -- we married for a while ; our son

called last night. So where am I? That one—the one

who would sit for hours with my Bronte novels

and dream of writing my own romance idylls?

I am older, not richer or wiser, just older.

Grading papers, giving marks-still reading and writing.

 

I am with you in Pawtucket.

 

Let's meet up for a “First and Last Chance” reunion

Start at the White Tower, walk up Main past Peerless

to Shartenberg's, go to the Windsor for a drink

and end up at the LeRoy for a late show---

or better still-- go on up Broad to Warner's Ballroom

where sounds of “Harlem Nocturne” pierce the gloom.

 

Sweet blues sax papering the world with longing,

 the mirror ball spangling speckled light all over my pink

and white gingham dress with tender embroidered berries

spilling over the bodice; dancing to our favorite song.

 Your cheek closely pressed to mine – “This is our song”,

you whisper, “This will always be our song.”

 

I am with you in Pawtucket.

 

Now I know what GHOSTED means

 

About GHOSTING I KNEW NOTHING. SO I did what I always do about the unknown--I googled it.

Here's what I learned online:

in most situations, if you haven't heard from someone even after contacting them repeatedly, they've ghosted you. They won't respond to your messages or calls. A telling sign that you've been ghosted is if you can't get in contact with them. No matter how you reach out or for how long, you don't hear back.Jun 4, 2022

And here is what I learned through experience:

 However, ghosting could also be a sign of self isolation seen in people with depression, suicidal tendencies, or are relapsing with an addiction.^[20] There is limited research directly on the effect of ghosting on the person on the receiving end. However, studies have indicated that ghosting is considered the most hurtful way to end a relationship in comparison to other methods such as direct confrontation.^[21] It has been shown to cause feelings of ostracism, exclusion, and rejection. Additionally, the lack of social cues along with the ambiguity in ghosting can cause a form of emotional dysregulation in which a person feels out of control.^[22] Some mental health professionals consider ghosting to be a passive-aggressive form of emotional abuse, a type of silent treatment or stonewalling behaviour, and emotional cruelty.^[7]

THE PERSON ON THE RECEIVING END.  

That would be me. So maybe  I can add to "the limited research  on the effects of ghosting."

Some how because this person  initiated the contact by commenting on one of the things I mentioned on this blog, I feel as if my blog has been  made a less safe place for me. So perhaps that is why I want to talk about it on the blog.  It is a way to reclaim this space.

This person--whom I have never met--shares a lot of  traits and circumstances with me. Pawtucket born and bred, this person  also writes poems and stories about  Pawtucket. And this person shares my love for poetry and for Beat   writers. We also shared early experiences of going to the Narragansett Race Track with our gambling fathers . We both lived close enough to walk to the track which no longer exists.

All of those memories and associations have been polluted by this person  cultivating me about these topics and interests and then ghosting me.

This person is old like me and we shared the memories of the "golden age of Pawtucket."

Now all is tarnished. Can I remove that  tarnish  and polish them back again?

I  want to reclaim these years and times and experiences and  remove them from this person's destructive influence. 

In fact my hope is to transform this experience into material for my work. To trust that having a new  experience in the  79th year of my life is a great gift.

That it will be new material for my plays and poems and yes, even for my blog. A great gift for my work. And maybe for my soul.

I am grateful that this charade of friendship only wasted a few weeks of my time. But at this  time in life, even a few weeks is a few weeks  too many. 

                    LIVE AND LEARN

 my nlog

What is the Holy Ghost"

  

Baptism of Fire and Spirit

 

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. —Acts 2:1–4

When I was a child and the  nuns told us about the Trinity, I got the idea of a father and a son, but what in the world was the HOLY GHOST!

That is what we  used to call the Third Person of the Trinity.Now we say HOLY SPIRIT, but has that name change brought us any closer to understanding who the third  person is?

Not really.

It is a shame that the Holy Spirit tends to be an afterthought for many Christians. We don’t really “have the Spirit.” We tend to simply go through the motions. We formally believe, but honestly, there isn’t much fire to it. There isn’t much conviction. There isn’t much service. We just sort of believe.

 That’s why in the Gospels there are two baptisms that are clearly distinguished. There’s the baptism with water that most of us are used to, and there’s the baptism “with the Holy Spirit and fire” (Matthew 3:11); that’s the one that really matters.

The water baptism that many of us received as children really demands little conviction or understanding. Until that water baptism becomes real, until we know Jesus, and we can rely on Jesus, call upon Jesus, share Jesus, love Jesus, we’re just going along for the ride.

We can recognize people who have had a second baptism in the Holy Spirit. They tend to be loving. They tend to be exciting. They want to serve others, and not just be served themselves. They forgive life itself for not being everything they once hoped for. They forgive their neighbors. They forgive themselves for not being as perfect as they would like to be.

Even though we so often pray, “Come, Holy Spirit,” the gift of the Spirit is already given. The Holy Spirit has already come. We are temples of the Holy Spirit, equally, objectively, and forever! The only difference is the degree that we know it, draw upon it, and consciously believe it. All the scriptural images of the Spirit are dynamic—flowing water, descending dove, fire, and wind. If there’s never any movement, energy, excitement, deep love, service, forgiveness, or surrender, you can be pretty sure you don’t have the Spirit. 

If our whole lives are just going through the motions, if there’s never any deep conviction, we don’t have the Spirit. We would do well to fan into flame the gift that we already have.

God does not give God’s Spirit to those

 of us who are worthy, because none of

 us are worthy. God gives God’s Spirit

 in this awakened way to those who

 want it. 

BREAST PLATE OF SAINT PATRICK

 Why is a Prayer called a Breastplate?

This prayer acts as armor against all evil in the world. It strengthens the person who recites it for all encounters with temptation throughout the day.

St. Patrick's Breastplate is a popular prayer attributed to one of Ireland’s most beloved patron saints. According to tradition, St. Patrick wrote it in 433 A.D. for divine protection before successfully converting the Irish King Leoghaire and his subjects from paganism to Christianity. (The term breastplate refers to a piece of armor worn in battle.) In any case, this prayer certainly reflects the spirit with which St. Patrick brought the faith to Ireland! St. Patrick's Breastplate, also known as The Lorica of Saint Patrick was popular enough to inspire a hymn based on this text as well. 

This prayer has also been called The Cry of the DeeR, Why?

St. Patrick’s Breastplate prayer was written in a difficult time. A local chieftain had placed a price on his head. As legend has it, the chieftain’s troops were hot on Patrick’s tail, when he invoked this prayer of protection. All Patrick’s pursuers heard was the cry of a deer bounding across the trail.

Patrick’s prayer affirms an ever-present, dynamic God. God is a circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere. God is above us, below us, around us, within us. Wherever we are, God is with us. We are always centered in God, and God centers us. And, also wherever we go, God’s circle of love surrounds us. 

I arise today 
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.

I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In the obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In the predictions of prophets,
In the preaching of apostles,
In the faith of confessors,
In the innocence of holy virgins,
In the deeds of righteous men.

I arise today, through
The strength of heaven,
The light of the sun,
The radiance of the moon,
The splendor of fire,
The speed of lightning,
The swiftness of wind,
The depth of the sea,
The stability of the earth,
The firmness of rock.

I arise today, through
God's strength to pilot me,
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to save me
From snares of devils,
From temptation of vices,
From everyone who shall wish me ill,
afar and near.

I summon today
All these powers between me and those evils,
Against every cruel and merciless power
that may oppose my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul;
Christ to shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that there may come to me an abundance of reward.

Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

[Note that people sometimes pray a shorter version of this prayer just with these 15 lines about Christ above. The conclusion follows below.]

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.

When St. Paul referred to putting on the “Armor of God” in his letter to the Ephesians (6:11) to fight sin and evil inclinations, he could have been thinking of prayers just like this one!

 We may not wear combat gear in our daily lives, but St. Patrick's Breastplate can function as divine armor for protection against spiritual adversity every day of our lives.

What is Bloomsday?

 

Bloomsday is June 16th--today and it is the day that is described minute by minute in the  great novel written by James Joyce. 

Today BLOOMSDAY  is celebrated as a national and even international observance in Ireland and  in many other countries. In Dublin the events follow the order and map described in the book and many readings  are held at some of the places that Joyce memorialized  in his telling. Joyce left Ireland and never returned, but spent his artistic life recreating the  place and the manners of the people he had left behind.

Ironically, as Louis Menard  reminds us,

“Ulysses” was never banned in Ireland. People there who hated the book weren’t simply offended by the obscenity. They didn’t like what they saw of themselves in it. George Bernard Shaw called the novel’s language “blackguardly,” and said that his own hand could never have formed the words. But he conceded that the book was a masterpiece. He, too, had been a young man in Dublin, and he recognized the city he had known. “ ‘Ulysses’ is a document,” he told a friend, “the outcome of a passion for documentation that is as fundamental as the artistic passion. . . . If a man holds up a mirror to your nature and shows you that it needs washing—not whitewashing—it is no use breaking the mirror.” As Joyce said when he was told that his aunt Josephine had refused to read the book, “If ‘Ulysses’ isn’t fit to read, life isn’t fit to live.”

Henry James, in an essay called “The Art of Fiction,” in 1884, said that in England and America people see more than they think it’s proper to say, and they say more than they think it’s proper to read. More than any other English writer, Joyce destroyed that decorum. He paid a terrible price for it.

How should we celebrate this  milestone in human expression? Read some section of the novel, you could begin with the ending:

The ending of Ulysses.

No punctuation. Molly Bloom’s inner monologue as she lies in bed, waiting for Leopold to return to her. As you read it, the punctuation becomes clear.

Joyce had always been quite sure that he wanted to end the book in this manner, especially in regards to the last word. He said that after all the torment, after all the troubles of the day portrayed in the book, he wanted to end Ulysses on “the most positive word in the English language”.

the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I wouldnt answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didnt know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father and old captain Groves and the sailors playing all birds fly and I say stoop and washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

a slave is just a slave until he rises

 

These brief remarka may give you a taste of this man's eloquence.

Frederick Douglas 

Denouncing the Fugitive Slave Law

Here the renowned orator Frederic Douglas provides  a view of the Fugitive Slave Law.

While you continue in the Union, you are as bad as the slaveholder. If you have thus wronged the poor black man, by stripping him of his freedom, how are you going to give evidence of your repentance? Undo what you have done. Do you say that the slave ought not to be free?

 These hands are they not mine? This body is it not mine? 

Again, I am your brother, white as you are. I’m your blood kin. You don’t get rid of me so easily. I mean to hold on to you. 

And in this land of liberty, I’m a slave. 

The twenty six States that blaze forth on your flag, proclaim a compact to return me to bondage if I run away, and keep me in bondage if I submit.

 Wherever I go, under the aegis of your liberty, there I’m a slave. 

If I go to Lexington or Bunker Hill, there I’m a slave, chained in perpetual servitude.

 I may go to your deepest valley, to your highest mountain, I’m still a slave, and the bloodhound may chase me down.