Judy Nickles's Blog, page 19

March 16, 2012

Welcome Sarah McNeal to The Word Place

The
Irish in America

Just for starters, the Irish did have that
famine that drove them from their homeland.
Then, just a little mention here, it’s not like the Irish in steerage
got into the life boats on the Titanic first, either. Once in America, the
Irish were treated with distain and given only the lowest of jobs—say hello to
coal mines and hammering spikes in railroads.
As a matter of fact, many advertisements for employment in the 1850’s
often stated, “Irish need not apply.” The
Chicago Post wrote, “The Irish fill our prisons, our poor houses...scratch a
convict or a pauper, and the chances are that you tickle the skin of an Irish
Catholic.” Well, who said they were
politically correct back then? They
could deny the Irish decent jobs, demean them because they operated outside the
law to feed their families and then the coup de grace, they affronted the
religion of the Irish. They have been
called Micks and other less savory names.
Their reputation for drinking and fighting is no more true than any
other ethnic group’s desire to get rowdy but the condemnation of Americans
attached this reputation to them as a means to degrade them.

The Irish fought for their dignity and the
Catholic church helped them fight for their human rights. They fought back sometimes with the same
brutality that others bestowed upon them.
Some of you may have heard of the Molly Maguires,
an organization of Irish men who fought for living wages and safer working
conditions in the coalmines of Pennsylvania.

Finally, the need for Irish labored soared in
the early years of the 20th century when industry boomed and the United States
moved into an economic power. The Irish
won their claim to America
society with grit and determination.
Yes, America
is a melting pot of cultures and humanity but, I have to say, each ethnic group
has had to fight its way into that melting pot.
Sometimes the scars are so deep, it takes generations to heal them.

For Love
of Banjo by Sarah j. McNeal

Western
Trail Blazers

     In my new release, For Love of Banjo, the hero
fights for the right to dignity and justice.
He was born in a bordello to an Irish immigrant mother who died in
childbirth. Until the age of ten, a
woman who worked in the bordello who had lost her family to fire raised
him. When she died, Banjo became
homeless and found ways to fend for himself in the streets of Hazard until
Harmonica Joe and Lola saw his
worth. Still, Banjo felt compelled to
find the father who abandoned him and his mother. He wanted the right to his personal history
and dignity because he wanted to earn the right to ask for Margaret Ann O’Leary’s
hand in marriage. He yearned to feel
good enough. When he learns that his
father may be an industrial magnate in New
York City, he is hell bent on finding him.

     Here is a little bit from the book just before
he leaves for New York
to find his father.

Blurb:

    In one
graceful movement, he dismounted the pinto then stepped to the porch where Maggie stood with unrestrained tears that flowed down
her cheeks. Banjo swept her into his
arms and kissed her. The kiss wasn’t his
brotherly, friendly peck on the cheek.
He kissed her with a slow burning need and ran his tongue along the
groove of her lips then slipped inside.

    He tasted of coffee and mint. Maggie
reached up to weave her arms around his neck.
She stepped on her tiptoes to better reach him and taste him. Her heart raced and heat rushed hungry waves
of yearning into places in her body she never knew existed as she responded to
his explorations with her own. If only
she could slip into his pocket and follow him wherever he went. She wanted to become the marrow in his bones,
to always be a part of him.

    Just when she thought he would take her to her
room and make love to her as she had asked, the kiss ended. Banjo bent his head his rough cheek rasped
against hers. The fragrance of him, a
combination of horse, pine and crisp snow, caressed her senses. He slipped his hand into her hair and gently
rubbed the tender skin of her neck where her blood pulsed beneath his thumb.

    His mouth so close to her ear she felt the warm
moisture of his breath as he spoke his last words. She would never forget them, not as long as
she lived. Breathless from the kiss, he
said, “Don’t forget me. Write to me
every day and I’ll write back. You are
the star in my sky and my compass home.
I’ll come back, if it’s the last thing I do, I will come back. I swear it.”

BUY LINKS:

Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...

Amazon.com:

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=for+love+of+banjo+by+sarah+mcneal

Print:

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Banjo-Sarah-J-McNeal/dp/1470150441/

Lulu :

www.lulu.com/product/ebook/for-love-of-banjo/18927618

Monkey Bars :

https://www.monkeybars.net/PbRJV

Available in all online bookstores in e-book or
paperback.