Musings of a first-time voter

Next Friday, March 8, I will be voting for the first time in Ireland, an honor and a privilege — and quite honestly beyond exciting. I have been waiting for this day since I received my Irish citizenship papers in 2018, thanks entirely to Ireland-born grandfather Thomas John McDermott. And certainly, I have been itching to be inside a voting booth since I arrived in Ireland in April, 2020. Among the many differences between the American and Irish voting systems, elections for local and national seats occur every 5 years instead of every 2 or 4, so I’ve been waiting…Continue Reading

She finds the dignity and worth in all cats

A Fur Person must be adopted by catly humans, tactful, delicate, respectful, indulgent; these are fairly rare, though not as rare as might be supposed. May Sarton, ‘The Fur Person’ “Hello, my darlings,” Rhona Lucas says in that silly singsong voice we all adopt when speaking with animals. “How are you?” Her darlings come from hither and thither when they hear her, some standoffish ones just taking a look, others ready for a stroke behind the ear, occasionally a snuggle, always drawn (let’s be fair here) to the promise of food. Cats and kittens, of all ages, many abilities, various…Continue Reading

In the company of King Arthur, Tolkien and Poldark

It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to. Bilbo Baggins, The Lord of the Rings The inestimable Bilbo Baggins knew a thing or two about stepping onto the road. Despite protestations to the contrary, he decided as a middle-aged hobbit to take off with a bunch of dwarves he never met and a wizard he hadn’t seen since childhood. Along the way, he tricked a dragon, out-riddled a creature, confounded an Eleven king (not easily accomplished), hobnobbed…Continue Reading

I dig my newest venture!

We looked for all the world like turtles, hunched over close to the ground. In our hands were tiny, sharp trowels, which we scraped, scraped, scraped carefully over rocky ground. Every once in a while, someone would straighten up, hand outstretched, eyes bent on something in the palm. “What did you find?” a person nearby inevitably called, and perhaps others would join in. Heads would lift up. Thus was the rhythm of the days at an archaeological dig in the heart of the Burren here in County Clare in early May. A “community excavation” coordinated by the local land trust,…Continue Reading

Merhba, welcome, to Malta

“Bil-qatra I-gatra timtela l-garra,” a Maltese proverb tells us. “Drop by drop, the pot fills up.” And so it was when I visited Malta. Each day, a new experience, new knowledge, new awe until by the end of my time there, I felt quite full – still realizing there remains ample room in the pot for further drops. I guess a sign of any good holiday is the notion that you’d like to return, and that’s certainly true for me. I find I have a certain perspective when I travel. I am more interested in learning about culture and history,…Continue Reading

The importance of blood family, an Irish tale

This is a tale of resilience, of a 66-year-old man who has endured the heart-wrenching sorrow of loss recently and knows what it is to live with uncertainty, yet one who loved and was loved in return and now is ready to open his heart to more of love’s potential. It is also a tale of persistence, of a woman who by all yardsticks lived a difficult and hardscrabble life, working menial jobs in and around 20th century Dublin, who had to know hers was not a fit life for a child.  It’s a tale worth telling, and it’s my…Continue Reading

A word of thanks

I will buy the turkey early this week, presuming, all things being equal, that the Irish grocery stores will stock them. Turkey graces Christmas tables here, you see. This Thursday is just another day in Ireland. I will make the mashed potatoes from good Irish spuds, the stuffing, too. I was lucky enough to score some cranberries, too, no mean feat. And on Thanksgiving Day, my friends will bring the vegetable dishes and desserts to round out the feast. We will be three Irishwomen, two Americans and one Brit, breaking bread together as we celebrate this most American of repasts.…Continue Reading

Baby, you can drive my car.

This is a long, long, long and winding tale of a government, a virus and me. As with all stories, plot twists abound, driven by pathos, frustration and, ultimately, redemption. Our heroine tries to bear up under it all, sometimes with grace and sometimes lacking grace entirely, occasionally coerced into screaming like a banshee, and then trying desperately to center and calm the mind. Let me tell you, desperation is not a fit state for a calm mind! How she cursed those gurus who know ways of contentment. She would find herself trying to be reasonable and rational: surely this…Continue Reading

The Unknown Known of America

The Unknown Known. In his most recent book, “We Don’t Know Ourselves,” Irish Times columnist Fintan O’Toole coins this term to describe the myriad times in the past 65 years of his life that the Irish people have chosen to bury what they know to be true. Girls disappearing to “visit an aunt in England” for nine months or more? A deeply corrupt but engaging prime minister? Priests molesting little boys? A briefly lucrative but totally chimeric Celtic tiger? You know the truth in your heart and your soul. But you can’t know it, because to know it is to…Continue Reading

‘I can do this.’ Rwandan women work to find their path

In Rwanda, as in many cultures throughout the world, teenaged mothers are terribly marginalized. Especially in rural areas of the country, many girls are without access to proper birth control or reproductive education. Many are victims of gender-based violence, and yet, of course, they are blamed for their pregnancy. “Once you’re a teen mother here, you’re basically garbage. It’s your fault, your stigma, your shame. Your parents disown you. If you are a victim of rape, you don’t admit it because you don’t expect people to believe you,” said my daughter Bridget Rhinehart, the Rwandan country director for the Swedish…Continue Reading