The English Catholic martyr, St. Edmund Campion, lived in Dublin for a while in 1569 and here is what he wrote about the Irish: “The people are thus inclined: religious, franke, amorous, irefull, sufferable of paines infinite, very glorious, many sorcerers, excellent horsemen, delighted with warres, great almes-givers, passing in hospitalitie: the lewder sort bothRead more..
Posts Tagged ‘Irish identity’
When I was 13 years old, my mother took my siblings and me to Rockaway Beach in New York City for the day. After we romped in the ocean and were sufficiently sunburned, we ended up at a rather run-down Irish tavern that was hosting a singing contest. Since I can carry a tune, myRead more..
Being Irish? Is being a clannish islander with all the good and all the bad that comes of that. Is being pagan and spiritual at the same time, in the same bone marrow, with all the good and all the bad that comes of that. Is not knowing how different you are until you meetRead more..
My south London schoolmates and I struggled with our Irishness during the 1970s. Nearly all of us had Irish parents who had settled in England in the 1940s and 1950s, but we had been born and raised in London. Did that make us English or Irish? Most of us made regular summer trips to Ireland,Read more..
Gregory Peck, the Hollywood legend, will long be remembered for his Oscar-winning performance as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird and his roles in such classics as The Yearling, Gentleman’s Agreement and Roman Holiday. Here he recalls a visit to his relatives in County Kerry. ℘℘℘ I love Wicklow, but I suppose if weRead more..
Some thoughts on being Irish-American. ℘℘℘ As a proud Irish-American, I begin with a simple assumption: there is no way to precisely define that elusive, complex human category called the Irish-American. The tools of sociology are as inadequate to the task as the forms of the Census Bureau, and the jeweler’s art of the lexicographerRead more..
Thomas Fleming writes of the struggles and triumphs of an Irish-American family. ℘℘℘ My County Mayo-born grandfather, David Fleming, could not read or write. He had a brogue so thick I couldn’t understand a word he said. But I knew one thing. He was Irish and proud of it. He had a favorite poem thatRead more..
Peter Quinn writes about his immigrant grandfather. ℘℘℘ The man on the horse is my paternal grandfather, Patrick Francis Quinn. The date is September 5, 1904. Pat is about to take his place as grand marshal of the New York City Labor Day Parade. The horse was rented for the occasion. I have the sashRead more..
The old St. Patrick’s Day quip about there being two kinds of people – those who are Irish and those who wish they were – turns out to be not so far from wrong. The research my colleague Michael Hout has carried out shows that there are a lot more Americans claiming to be IrishRead more..
A bawdy romance from the author of Angela’s Ashes. ℘℘℘ When he awoke that morning Mordecai O’Callaghan found himself in such a desperate state of tumescence he immediately thought of Nora Moynihan down the road. Nora Moynihan, down the road, awakening at the same time, found herself in such a desperate state of lubriciousness sheRead more..