Past Posts
12 Nicholas Cozzens, Co. Wexford, Ireland
Not my son, Nicholas Eliot Cozzens Calabrese born in 1981, but his great-great-grandfather, my father’s father, my great-grandfather, born in 1842 in Ireland and died in 1900 in California. He came to the US in 1854, we now know. Living in the twenty-first century, I find it strange that my great grandfather—only three generations ago—was born in the mid-nineteenth century, but men in the Cozzens family have tended to marry and have children later in life, my own father included. Warren Cozzens was 34 when I was born, and...
11 The Art of Being a Tour Guide
When I taught at Harvard in the 1970s, as part of freshmen orientation I was invited to lead a group of new students on a day tour of Lexington and Concord. Thrilled but scared by the prospect, I spent weeks boning up on the facts behind the Battle of Lexington and Concord, Paul Revere’s ride, the circle of writers and thinkers surrounding Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau’s literary accomplishments, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Fuller, and the life, works, and family history of Louisa May Alcott. I drove out there...
10 “In our arts we find our bliss”
Sometime before the end of the ninth century, an Irish monk wrote a poem comparing the art of writing to the art of a cat—Pangur Bán—catching a mouse: I and Pangur Bán, my cat, ‘Tis a like task we are at; Hunting mice is his delight, Hunting words I sit all night. The poem celebrates artistry, not just for the results it produces, but also for the satisfaction and meaning, even transcendence, creation affords the artist. After noting the many parallels between catching a mouse and “Turning darkness into...
9 Water, Water, Everywhere
Having grown up on Lake Michigan and spent part of every summer on a lake in the Northwoods, I love living near water and have often said that the only thing wrong with Atlanta is its lack of a waterfront. Here in Dublin, there’s water everywhere, and we live right where it all converges: the rivers (Liffey and Dodder), the canals (Grand and Royal), and of course Dublin Bay and the Irish Sea, which are close enough to see from the roof of our building. Pretty much in any...
8 The Work Shoe Garden
I saw this wall in the village of Inistioge, County Kilkenny a few weeks ago, and I can’t get it out of my mind. What a wonderful way to make use of old shoes, especially old leather work shoes that have such personality and history to them. How many years of labor, how many jobs, how many people, how much blood, sweat, and tears contributed to this work of art? There’s also some horticultural genius going on here: leather breathes, and the roots of plants like air. That’s why...
7 Heritage
Last week I spent a good part of each day attending lectures, exhibitions, walking tours, and open houses that were part of a special event in the Republic of Ireland, National Heritage Week. From August 23-31, the entire country celebrated its heritage by inviting the public inside buildings and institutions—some of which are not normally open to the public—to learn more about history, culture, and tradition broadly defined. That complex relationship with the past seems to have inspired a keen desire for learning more about heritage. I am constantly...
6 The Clamour of New Light
Monday is Labor Day in the US and it seems like the right moment to write about one of my favorite poems, “The Lighthouse” by Vona Groarke, a poem that talks not about the sea, as the title might suggest, but about rural electrification in Ireland, a labor that was only completed on mainland Ireland in 1973 (some of the remote islands had to wait until 2003). I’ve been thinking about this poem lately. Vona Groarke is gaining popularity in the US, but if you don’t know her, she...
5 Nuts and Bolts
It has been humbling and at the same time strangely rejuvenating to set up life in a new place. Humbling because I didn’t know the steps, missed the nuances, and often felt embarrassed by my ignorance; rejuvenating because I felt such a sense of accomplishment as each new thing fell into place. We signed the lease on an apartment for the year! WiFi is working! I found a place to buy fresh fish! Bank of Ireland gave us an account! WiFi is fixed! Our IKEA pieces are put together...
4 Grand Canal Dock
As Ron and I planned this joint sabbatical, we envisioned renting an elegant mini-Georgian house or quaint mews in the toney Baggot Street to Ballsbridge corridor in Dublin 4. To our surprise, we find ourselves in a sunny top floor apartment in a new building with all mod cons in the trendy high tech quarter of Dublin next to the Grand Canal Dock, or GCD for short. It’s Dublin 4 all right, but “new” Dublin 4, where the city’s history provides the scaffolding for its future. This is not...
3 Clearing a Space
Recently I happened upon a powerful poem by Irish writer and scholar Brendan Kennelly called “Clearing a Space” (If Every You Go: A Map of Dublin in Poetry and Song. Eds. Pat Boran and Gerard Smyth. Dublin: Dedalus Press, 2014. p. 182). The speaker talks about a Sunday morning walk through Dublin that allows him to “Clear a space for myself the best I can.” He feels a kinship with the city, recognizing in it and in himself a surprising capacity for renewal. To have been used so much,...