Cindy Thomson's Blog, page 12

Sanctuary

Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like in ancient Ireland where danger lurked everywhere and just surviving was a challenge. Here’s my imagination running wild:

photo by Cindy Thomson, Drumcliffe, County Sligo

The forest above his head is so thick that sunlight only glimmers in as though through a sieve. If he cannot reach the monastery before nightfall he’ll be doomed to wander about aimlessly in the dark and pray that his pursuers will not find him. A bell tolls in the distance, calling the monks to prayer. He is close.

His heart pounds a rhythm like the ancient beat of an ancestor’s drum, a song that holds the memories of the lives of those who went before him. He’d disgraced them, but the penalty should not be his life. There are laws to protect him from an unfair sentence, but he will not have his day in court if he does not reach the sanctuary boundary before those he’d wronged find him.

As he hurries, dodging brambles of blackthorn, he keeps an eye heavenward. Eventually the forest cover will give way to sky and then he will see them, the magnificent crosses.

A hound cries in the distance–his pursuers. They will just as soon run a spear through him as to seek true justice. The ground softens under his leather shoes. The sacred yews leading to the monastery cannot be far away.

The sun grows warmer on his back. The end of the forest is now in sight as he keeps his focus ahead. Soon he is leaping through tall grass and heading toward the ancient yews that will lead the way.

Voices behind him grow louder. Now that they are in a clearing, his enemies will gain ground with their horses and chariots. His feet ache. His knees beg him to stop, but he dares not. In the distance a massive structure casts a long shadow—the cross that marks one corner of the sanctuary.

The hound’s cry is near and it will soon be nipping at his heels. Tears stream down his face. 

He built his sanctuary like the heights, like the earth that he established forever.

A few more paces. He can make it. The dog lunges at him, but misses, tripping over a stone or maybe a tree root. Soon the beast is back on its feet, coming harder. The man races through the shadow of the cross and keeps running. A whistle calls the hound back. He has made it. The monks will shelter him until his case can be fairly judged. Praise be to God!

When the New Colossus Was New

Back when I visited New York City I was so excited about seeing the Statue of Liberty. Is there any other icon that better describes who we are as Americans? We are a country of immigrants. The original name was Liberty Enlightening the World.

Photo by AussieActive on Unsplash

She is made of copper and of course aged to the color we see here. If you’d like to see what she must have looked like new (I wanted to know how the characters in my novel would have seen her.) Look here.

None of my ancestors that I’ve discovered came through Ellis Island and most had never even been to New York to see the statue. But what it represents certainly applies to them.

Parts of the statue were on display in France as it was being built. (See photo above.)

Most of us know about the poem “The New Colossus.” The title was a description of the staute. At the time the statue was new and certainly colossal.

We are familiar with the line, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…”

I thought I’d share the whole thing.

The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus, 1883

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles.  From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame,
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips.  “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Emma Lazarus, an advocate for immigrants, died from cancer at the young age of 34. She never knew the impact her poem would have.

5 More Thoughts on Celtic Crosses

Photo by Cindy Thomson

1.
Said to be the tallest cross in Ireland (pictured above) the West Cross in Monasterboice stands at 21 feet tall.

2.
The second tallest cross (17.5 ft) stands in Moone, County Kildare. The monastery ruins where it stands are older than the cross, possibly dating to St Palladius, the first bishop sent to Ireland. (Yes, before St. Patrick.)

https://kildareheritage.com/moone-high-cross/

3. Some of the high crosses are thought to mimic the wood and metal crosses that preceded them. Look at the “studs” on this cross. Ahenny High Cross in County Tipperary.

Humphrey Bolton / Ahenny high crosses, Co. Tipperary

4. The Downpatrick High Cross was relocated from the busy downtown area of Downpatrick and erected in front of Downpatrick Cathedral….in 1897! The photo below is from my visit. Now it’s placed inside and a replica is in its place, showing what it originally looked like. See it here.

Photo by Cindy Thomson, Downpatrick

5. Kilfenora in County Clare is known as the city of crosses. It was once home to seven high crosses. See more here.

5 Thoughts on High Crosses

I never tire of talking about Celtic crosses or the High Crosses of Ireland. I plan to go back and see more of them. Here are some things you might not have thought of:

1. Most of the high crosses (maybe all) still existing today were erected by Christians. It’s been said the symbol of the cross with a circle joining its arms, predates St. Patrick and Christianity, but none of the crosses still standing today are that old. But they are old. Muiredach’s Cross at Monasterboice in County Louth was built in the 10th century. The Ardboe Cross in County Tyrone is about the same age, but perhaps even a bit older. Most of the high crosses can be associated with monasteries that used to stand on those sites.

Monasterboice. Photo by Cindy Thomson

2. The ancient high crosses were not grave markers. They were probably boundary markers, and might have marked the boundaries of monasteries. That’s likely why they were so tall–so they could be seen from a long way off. In more recent times Celtic crosses have been used as grave markers. Here is one in NYC.

3. The crosses were carved from sandstone or granite. The high cross at Clonmacnoise was carved from a single slab of sandstone.

4. The crosses, especially those with biblical scenes, might have colorfully painted. They were stone versions of illuminated manuscripts.

5. The crosses with biblical scenes were probably used as teaching tools for folks who could not read or had no access to scripture, which was everyone not residing in a monastery or somehow connected with a church or a king.

Clonmacnoise. Photo by Cindy Thomson

This kind of stuff floats my boat!

The Wee Irish Church

This is a response to Diane’s question in our readers’ group. She was asking about the oldest building and I actually do have idea for a post about that, but this is also about old structures.

The Church in Ancient Times

In ancient times the normal size of a church was 10 x 15. To give you some perspective, it’s a common size for a bedroom or a storage unit, measuring 150 square feet. Surrounding this wee church in a typical monastery would be monk cells (much smaller), a guesthouse, a refectory, perhaps a school or scriptorium, and a barn for animals and a blacksmith shop. I would imagine the monks all crowded in together for mass, but for the ancient Irish, this church was not the only location for worship (thank goodness!) because they worshipped and prayed while they worked and went about their day.

https://www.visitardsandnorthdown.com

Above is an illustration of what Nendrum monastery, County Down, Northern Ireland, looked like.

When a monastery grew, they did not tear down that wee church and build a bigger one necessarily. They just built more small ones.

Nendrum Monastic Site. That’s me standing in the grass with my friends who live nearby, Eileen and Alister McReynolds. We are looking at the ruin of the round tower.

To see more of Nendrum, visit this site.

Most of these early churches were built from wood and do not survive. In some places, however, the cells and monastic buildings were built from stone. Below is an ancient church in Dingle. Incredible, huh? To be honest no one knows what it was used for. It’s Gallarus Oratory – Dingle Peninsula, County Kerry, Ireland. The exact date of the structure is unknown but it’s estimated to be 11th-12th century.

We will be visiting this on the #ancientbrigidtour2023 on the beautiful Dingle Peninsula. Is this the oldest building in Ireland, Diane? Well, maybe not. I’ll blog more on that later, but it certainly is one of the oldest and in near perfect if not perfect condition.

The original uploader was Pdxgoat at English Wikipedia., CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Ireland in Manhattan

Would you have guessed this picture was taken in the United States and not Ireland? And even more surprising is that this patch of Ireland is actually in Lower Manhattan on the banks of the Hudson River.

Photo by Cindy Thomson

It’s the Irish Hunger Memorial, designed by artist Brian Tolle to recognize the Great Hunger in the mid 19th century, and opened in 2002.

When you walk through a tunnel, on which various quotes from and about the Irish are inscribed on the walls, you can hear the voice of the Irish.

Photo by Cindy Thomson

Recordings play continuously, as though the rocks themselves speak with the voices of our ancestors. The walls are made from ancient Irish limestone. Very cool.

Photo by Tom Thomson

What’s also cool is that every county in Ireland (32 of them) is represented by a stone. The stones actually came from those Irish counties, which is incredible when you see the size of some of them. We photographed the ones from the counties where our ancestors were born. The names of the counties are engraved on the stones. These are from Derry and Down.

Photo by Cindy Thomson Photo by Cindy Thomson

 Irish vegetation is planted throughout and a guide to what is what is available at the site.

It’s a beautiful memorial and a unique experience. If you find yourself in NYC, you should visit.

Memories of a Book from Childhood

Has this ever happened to you? You remember liking a story you read when you were young but you don’t remember the title, author, or very many details. Still, you’d love to find it again. It apparently has happened for many people because there are web forums where you can describe what you remember about a book you read when you were a kid and people will try to help you find it.

Here’s my story.

I was at the Dublin Irish Festival Authors’ Corner one year and during a lull I struck up a conversation with the Book Loft staff, Julie and Josh to be specific. They told me people come into the store with memories like I described above and they are pretty good at helping them find the book they were looking for. So I told them my memories. It stumped them (probably for good reason. I’ll explain later).

Then came the pandemic and we missed two years of Irish festivals. When we met again this past August, Julie told me they were still trying to find my book. She remembered that I told her it was the book that had sparked my interest in historical fiction (and as I hope you know, that’s what I write now.) I was surprised to find out they were still thinking about it so I went home and tried to figure it out. That’s how I came across those web forums I mentioned. But nothing seemed to fit. Somewhere I came across the advice to ask your friends who are your age. So I did. On Facebook:

Are you around my age and want to help solve a mystery? I remember reading a book, or maybe it was a story in a magazine, when I was a kid that involved a boy who was somewhere in New England and he found a message carved into a drawer. By some kind of magic he was able to converse with a boy from the past, maybe pilgrim times. I remember Myles Standish being mentioned. I have googled, and even the staff at the Book Loft have been trying to figure it out. I know it’s not much to go on. Anyone?

Well, the problem with this that I now realize, and that may have thrown Julie and Josh off, is that some of what I remembered wasn’t quite right. But there were reasons I was a little mixed up. I’ll explain as I go along.

I immediately got a reply! Yay!

Sinead Tyrone

I have that book at home!! Can’t remember the name of it now but I will be home in about an hour and can post it then!

I didn’t recognize the cover but as Sinead explained more, it sounded like the right one! She was almost sure so I ordered a copy. Here’s mine.

I just finished it. Yes, it was THE one, and I’m excited to have found it again.

An interesting tidbit: Sinead is an author who like me can be found in the Authors’ Corner at the Dublin Irish Festival. She was right there! If I had brought it up to her then this would have been solved long ago! Sinead told me she had also thought about this story for a long while and it was a friend who solved the mystery for her. Yay for reader friends!

So, more about those misremembered events. I said this on Facebook when I read the description.

I think this must be it. It was a bed not a dresser like I thought? Funny that I didn’t remember it was a ghost. You don’t have to reread. I’m going to order a copy. Thanks, Sinead Tyrone

It indeed was a bed where Miles had carved his name. (The ghost’s name was Miles. I had thought of Myles Standish but he had nothing to do with this story. Nor did the Pilgrims. It may not have been set in New England either. The story doesn’t say where. My brain was making associations.)

But, a dresser drawer did play an important part in the story. See if you can read the passage below.

It says “chest” but is referring to a dresser. There was a secret drawer that held a diary Miles had written. Thus the messages from the past that I remembered. They weren’t carved in like the name on the bed. I had gotten it mixed together.

Here’s a summary of the book from the back cover:

Out of the graveyard comes a ghost-the ghost of ten-year-old Miles Dibble. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to come to Dibble Hollow, Cousin,” he tells Pug. “Now you must help me find that lost money.” From that moment on, the ghostly Miles leads Pug from one spooky adventure to another. Pug gets used to chairs that rock by themselves, shutters that bang mysteriously, and hair that stands on end. And all the while he follows the clues to the weirdest treasure hunt with the ghost of Dibble Hollow.

But what that doesn’t say is that Miles is Pug’s great uncle. He died in 1900. When he appears to Pug he is wearing odd clothes that are plainly described and probably made the young me think of Pilgrims! And why in the world did I not remember there was a ghost? Maybe because he was friendly, not at all scary.

The Ghost of Dibble Hollow by May Nickerson Wallace is a wonderful story of reconciliation and healing of a family feud that came about because of a misunderstanding and perpetual prejudice. The Smiths (or at least the old man in the story) thought all the Dibbles were the same, dishonest. The Dibbles felt sorry for old man Smith, and wanted to help him, but they saw him mostly as a meanie. And no one liked the Pratts either but they discovered that when someone expects bad behavior from someone that’s what they will likely get. Lots of good lessons. Even Pug learns to respect his little sister a bit more but seeing that she is actually smart and can be helpful not just a tagalong.

It was a Scholastic book, so I likely had gotten it at a school book fair. The copy I have says 45 cents on the cover. Inside someone wrote 15 cents in pencil. If only books could be that cheap for kids today.

If you have a child in your life, read to them. Get them books to read alone too. You never know what will resonate with him or her decades later.

Do you have a favorite book from childhood? Mine is Charlotte’s Web but this one is good too! Let me know in the comments. You might mention something someone else has been searching for.

Nova Scotia: New Scotland

Highlands National Park in Cape Breton reminds people of the Highlands in Scotland and obviously all of Nova Scotia reminded the European settlers of Scotland, thus the name which means New Scotland. There was an amazing mix of English, Scottish Gaelic, and French being spoken, especially French. The locals slipped between English and French in a single conversation.

We had an amazing personal tour at a museum where the guide told us about his grandmother coming from an island off the coast that was still part of France. When she and her husband moved to Nova Scotia she didn’t speak any English!

Natalie McMaster has played here. This is I believe Stephanie MacDonaldLow bush wild blueberry field

I could fill your browser with photos! For me when I think of Nova Scotia and Cape Breton in particular, I think color. Much like Ireland, the colors are so vivid and beautiful. Pink rocks, bright blue sky, blue water, white clouds, dark green pines, light green moss. Incredibly pristine. The air smelled soooo good.

One thing we thought we’d see more of was wildlife. We did see two bald eagles, some seabirds (but nothing like Florida), one black-faced fox, and one moose, so no complaints really. It was preseason for them there, but they said tourists were slowing returning and the merchants were really grateful. That meant not everything was open and there was less opportunity to hear live music. But it also meant that most of the trails we hiked we had to ourselves. And the weather was beautiful. Hardly any rain.

One moose greeted us briefly on the road and then trotted back to the woods.Food in Nova Scotia

Like I said, not everything was open. In the smaller towns we didn’t find a lot of good choices and we had kitchenettes so we cooked for ourselves part of the time. However, we did have some really good meals!

Lobster roll in Baddeck at the Freight ShedScallops and salad with maple dressing in Baddeck at the Freight ShedNova Scotia wineNova Scotia ciderSalad with chicken, so good!apple dessertSurprising Discoveries

There were a few. Alexander Graham Bell lived here. You know, he invented the telephone? He did more than that and the museum in Baddeck is worth visiting to learn more. Did you know that is the site of the first air flight in Canada? Being raised near Dayton, we only heard about the Wright Brothers and while they were first they were shortly followed by a machine Bell built!

Sea glass! I’ve rarely found any before. In fact, I think I’ve only found one small piece on a beach in Ireland. Inverness Beach, Cape Breton, is a great sea glass beach. (The NS on the beach was at another near Ingonish. Someone else created that.)

I think I’ll stop here for now but there is more to tell. Please ask if you are curious about anything!

Happy Yeats Day

W.B. Yeats was born on this day. What’s your favorite Yeats poem? Here is mine. I especially like the first half. It gets a little pessimistic in the second half, but that’s Yeats, and well, sometimes that’s life too. But what I like is the image it forms so perfectly in my head. The carefree child, celebrating life. If only we could hold on to some of that as we age.

To a Child Dancing in the Wind, 1916Pixabay License

Dance there upon the shore;

What need have you to care

For wind or water’s roar?

And tumble out your hair

That the salt drops have wet;

Being young you have not known

The fool’s triumph, nor yet

Love lost as soon as won,

Nor the best labourer dead

And all the sheaves to bind.

What need have you to dread

The monstrous crying of wind!

The Feast of St. Columba

His Other Names

I prefer the Irish Columcille, which means Dove of the Church. He was originally named Crimthann, which in Irish means Fox. However, once he was fostered in the church he gained this new name. It’s said he had a temper, so perhaps this name was in jest. It came to fit him with time, however, because he was as devoted to the church as any saint, perhaps more so.

A Character in My Novel

I am wrote about Columcille, and Enya (Eithne) in my book, Enya’s Son. The idea about temperament, how much is inherited and what one can do about it, is something I thought about as I wrote. Nurture vs Nature. Which is strongest? What can be overcome?

Today is St. Columba’s Feast Day. Saints’ Feast Days are the days they died, or it’s believed they died, because that’s the day they received their great reward. If you’d like to know more about St. Columba (or Columcille in Irish) here’s a site to visit. There are more resources at the end if you’d like to dig deeper.