Author of Sheila Says We're Weird and Defenders of Dirt. Promoting creativity, craft, cooperatives, and communities of care. I believe ideas can inform and inspire positive actions.
Last month, after I participated in Montreal's annual March to the Stone, I wrote about that tragic hidden history. The famine walk honors the site where an estimated 6,000 Irish immigrants—most of whom died of "ship fever" (typhus) in the summer of 1847—lie
"They don't look often enough at context, past or present. Instead, they seem to see each moment as an independent crisis—or a recent one—often missing how many times the same dynamics have played out or indicators of how to proceed have already appeared." Andrea
So many images of suffering pass before us, it's difficult to feel that our individual acts make any difference. This feeling is magnified when powerful governments fail to act humanely or adequately. But a recurring theme of my posts is that individual actions have cumulative effects and matter
Picture the same year, in two rural landscapes divided by the Atlantic ocean. Ireland, 1839: William Gray, my great-great grandfather, is born in Ireland, near Ballyjamesduff. One of five children, William helped his family grow grain and raise geese. The farm's soil was so poor, his son
History has been showing me its tantalizing side. Various ancestors' histories and journeys are linking together, and I'm sensing them spanning across time to this present place. By place, I mean not only where I live in upstate New York, but also the place we're
This week I've been following exciting leads, finding new and converging throughlines. Some of my excitement stems from what my DNA results reveal about my place in a much larger web. Ancestry.com's appropriately-named Thrulines option displays matches and compares trees. When shown in list
"I think it marks our maturity as a people that remembrance has become an act of self-awareness." Irish President Mary Robinson Someone on social media recently lamented the fact that we haven't adequately memorialized or collectively grieved our pandemic losses. This made me think of
When you look at a map of your local region, what do you relate to? Or do you ever even look? What are your associations with this place, or perhaps with another one from a formative time? What are your significant landmarks? Are they natural or human-made? Communal, institutional
What mementos and heirlooms do you possess, if you are lucky enough to have them? Photo albums, family portraits? Personal items like jewelry, or watches? Handiwork such as quilts, carvings or paintings? Cherished devotional items, stories handed down, family wisdom passed along? I'm thinking about all kinds of
This week I'm picking up from a thread in my April 17th post, Standing Together Against Adversity. There, I wrote about the history of the Choctaw Irish famine donation of 1847; the two nations' ongoing relationship; and their memorializing of that gift. Today, I want to highlight
"In the walls of the cubicle there were three orifices. To the right of the speakwrite, a small pneumatic tube for written messages; to the left, a larger one for newspapers; and in the side wall, within easy reach of Winston's arm, a large oblong slit protected
This week's research has taken me down many different paths, and I have yet to put together a clear map of how they interconnect. For now, I'm simply going to share some of the materials I've been engaged with, along with select photos from