Saturday, September 24, 2011
Day Four
Morning came really early and I got out of bed feeling a bit wobbly from jet lag, Jameson, and Guinness. Brian stayed up later than I did last night so I don’t know how he looks so much more awake than I do, but somehow he does. We had our Irish breakfast and all climbed into Michael Feeney’s car with Annie sitting on my lap and waved goodbye to the tour group who are heading up to Sligo and Donegal today. We were taking our instruments to a military dedication for Tom Carey of Bekan, who was part of the U.S. Army and was killed in World War I. Our friend Pat Gorman from Dixon, Illinois, has been working with Michael to help locate graves of American soldiers who did not receive plaques of honor from the U.S. government. This grave was found through Pat’s research and Michael’s on-the-ground hunting for the actual grave site. When Michael found it, it had been forgotten, covered with leaves and grass and needing an immediate sprucing up. He and Ernie took it on, coming out to help power-wash the grave site and remove all the years of overgrowth. Some relatives were found living not far from Bekan, and they had been invited to the cemetery. One of them could remember visiting and seeing a folded American flag sitting in Tom Carey’s mother’s home.
The day was very cold with a stiff wind blowing from the East, but the sun managed to break through the clouds in time for the ceremony to begin. Standing there was Ron Howko, an American veteran who fought in Vietnam and is now the post commander of the John Barry VFW post in County Mayo. (Yes, there are enough veterans of Irish descent and Americans living in Ireland that there are VFW posts here.) In addition, there were four other veterans who had fought in World War II all the way through Vietnam. They were here, each decked out in medals and wearing the distinctive military hat of the the VFW. A representative of the British Army was also on hand as well as a member of the Irish Defense Forces. A piper played a lament after the American National Anthem. I stood there with Brian, hands over our hearts, and sang the anthem. It is one thing to sing it on American soil, but quite another to be the representatives of America singing the the anthem.
It hit me that Michael Feeney had not only brought honor to people who live in Northern Ireland and the Republic, but he also had conveyed the understanding that no matter how they served and where they lived, they are still all Irishmen and women. I felt a chill go up my spine as Ron Howko read the history of Tom Carey and how he served his adopted country and died. Ron went on to talk about the great love that America has for Ireland and the debt it owes this nation for sending so many of its people to our country. How many of these people willingly gave their lives for this new nation that offered them a decent chance at having a good life! It was a sacrifice that Tom Carey made without ever having the chance to get married and have children of his own. At several points during his talk, Ron paused, getting choked up with emotion. I looked at the other veterans and understood from their faces that knowledge they each have to carry after being in war and seeing comrades die. It was something that thankfully I never had to experience.
Ron called the soldiers to attention, and they slowly folded up the American flag. Brian and I walked over with Ernie and solemnly rolled back the black cloth that was covering the bronze plaque. After a short talk by Michael Feeney, we proceeded to play Falling Water River. My cousin Liam suggested that it would be a fitting piece, and I told the crowd there about the song and how my own grandfather was very much like Tom Carey, that he came over in 1916 to America and was immediately made part of the U.S. Army Military Police. He luckily didn’t see action but easily could have and just as easily could have been in a grave over in Ireland.
We took some pictures with the various branches of military and then headed off to Liam and Kay’s home which was not too far away for tea and cakes. Later we spent time at Seamus’ home in Claremorris and had a nice dinner before saying our farewells and heading to Castlebar for the second evening’s performance.
The show was quite special in that the band felt much more relaxed. During the performance, Brian, Nick, and I headed to the front of the stage and played an acoustic version of Climb That Mountain. And the dancers really did a fantastic job! Colleen Kosier, the director of the studio, explained to the audience how clogging was named that by Queen Elizabeth. The dance is truly a mixture of Scottish, English, Irish, African, and American Indian dances…all coming together in the mountains of Appalachia in the early 17th century. Hearing this, I think the audience was able to appreciate even more the girls’ dance steps. I was very proud that they could now claim that they have performed internationally!
After the concert, we headed back to the hotel to round up all the folks to head back to Westport. I walked into one part of the pub, and there were a good number of our tour, surrounded by the most ancient of Irish customs—Saturday night dancing. There were teenagers dressed to the limit…the limit of taste perhaps and all heading onto the dance floor. The music was terrifically booming, and I had to grin, as nothing had changed in the over 20 years I have been visiting Ireland. What made the whole scenario great was that just down from the gaggle of giggling girls and gawking guys were two elderly ladies, dressed in nice skirts and sweaters, each holding a glass of cider in their hands and looking around with sort of a bemused expression. It was something that has always made Ireland special, that Saturday night is not just limited to the young, but an opportunity for everyone in the community to head down to the pub and socialize, even if the traditional music has been replaced with the thumping and bumping of hip-hop.
Day Four
Morning came really early and I got out of bed feeling a bit wobbly from jet lag, Jameson, and Guinness. Brian stayed up later than I did last night so I don’t know how he looks so much more awake than I do, but somehow he does. We had our Irish breakfast and all climbed into Michael Feeney’s car with Annie sitting on my lap and waved goodbye to the tour group who are heading up to Sligo and Donegal today. We were taking our instruments to a military dedication for Tom Carey of Bekan, who was part of the U.S. Army and was killed in World War I. Our friend Pat Gorman from Dixon, Illinois, has been working with Michael to help locate graves of American soldiers who did not receive plaques of honor from the U.S. government. This grave was found through Pat’s research and Michael’s on-the-ground hunting for the actual grave site. When Michael found it, it had been forgotten, covered with leaves and grass and needing an immediate sprucing up. He and Ernie took it on, coming out to help power-wash the grave site and remove all the years of overgrowth. Some relatives were found living not far from Bekan, and they had been invited to the cemetery. One of them could remember visiting and seeing a folded American flag sitting in Tom Carey’s mother’s home.
The day was very cold with a stiff wind blowing from the East, but the sun managed to break through the clouds in time for the ceremony to begin. Standing there was Ron Howko, an American veteran who fought in Vietnam and is now the post commander of the John Barry VFW post in County Mayo. (Yes, there are enough veterans of Irish descent and Americans living in Ireland that there are VFW posts here.) In addition, there were four other veterans who had fought in World War II all the way through Vietnam. They were here, each decked out in medals and wearing the distinctive military hat of the the VFW. A representative of the British Army was also on hand as well as a member of the Irish Defense Forces. A piper played a lament after the American National Anthem. I stood there with Brian, hands over our hearts, and sang the anthem. It is one thing to sing it on American soil, but quite another to be the representatives of America singing the the anthem.
It hit me that Michael Feeney had not only brought honor to people who live in Northern Ireland and the Republic, but he also had conveyed the understanding that no matter how they served and where they lived, they are still all Irishmen and women. I felt a chill go up my spine as Ron Howko read the history of Tom Carey and how he served his adopted country and died. Ron went on to talk about the great love that America has for Ireland and the debt it owes this nation for sending so many of its people to our country. How many of these people willingly gave their lives for this new nation that offered them a decent chance at having a good life! It was a sacrifice that Tom Carey made without ever having the chance to get married and have children of his own. At several points during his talk, Ron paused, getting choked up with emotion. I looked at the other veterans and understood from their faces that knowledge they each have to carry after being in war and seeing comrades die. It was something that thankfully I never had to experience.
Ron called the soldiers to attention, and they slowly folded up the American flag. Brian and I walked over with Ernie and solemnly rolled back the black cloth that was covering the bronze plaque. After a short talk by Michael Feeney, we proceeded to play Falling Water River. My cousin Liam suggested that it would be a fitting piece, and I told the crowd there about the song and how my own grandfather was very much like Tom Carey, that he came over in 1916 to America and was immediately made part of the U.S. Army Military Police. He luckily didn’t see action but easily could have and just as easily could have been in a grave over in Ireland.
We took some pictures with the various branches of military and then headed off to Liam and Kay’s home which was not too far away for tea and cakes. Later we spent time at Seamus’ home in Claremorris and had a nice dinner before saying our farewells and heading to Castlebar for the second evening’s performance.
The show was quite special in that the band felt much more relaxed. During the performance, Brian, Nick, and I headed to the front of the stage and played an acoustic version of Climb That Mountain. And the dancers really did a fantastic job! Colleen Kosier, the director of the studio, explained to the audience how clogging was named that by Queen Elizabeth. The dance is truly a mixture of Scottish, English, Irish, African, and American Indian dances…all coming together in the mountains of Appalachia in the early 17th century. Hearing this, I think the audience was able to appreciate even more the girls’ dance steps. I was very proud that they could now claim that they have performed internationally!
After the concert, we headed back to the hotel to round up all the folks to head back to Westport. I walked into one part of the pub, and there were a good number of our tour, surrounded by the most ancient of Irish customs—Saturday night dancing. There were teenagers dressed to the limit…the limit of taste perhaps and all heading onto the dance floor. The music was terrifically booming, and I had to grin, as nothing had changed in the over 20 years I have been visiting Ireland. What made the whole scenario great was that just down from the gaggle of giggling girls and gawking guys were two elderly ladies, dressed in nice skirts and sweaters, each holding a glass of cider in their hands and looking around with sort of a bemused expression. It was something that has always made Ireland special, that Saturday night is not just limited to the young, but an opportunity for everyone in the community to head down to the pub and socialize, even if the traditional music has been replaced with the thumping and bumping of hip-hop.
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